The Triumphs of Grace in the Wilderness by Lemuel Covell (1803)

From the realms where the day her first dawnings extends,
The Son of the gospel, in glory ascends!
Ye forests attend, while your children combine
In accents unusual, in transports divine.

Involv’d in uncertainty, darkness and death,
The clouds of destruction hung over our path,
Till yon rising splendor enlightened our way,
And pointed our steps to the regions of day.

A council, on high, has been held, to enquire
For help for mankind; and peace kindled the fire.
Provision is made for the nations distress’d;
And with the rich treasure, all lands be bless’d.

The chain of salvation, let down from above,
Cemented by justice, and brightened by love:
The safety of hope, the conductor of grace,
Joins heaven and earth in its mighty embrace.

On high see our Jesus, the penitent’s friend,
With banners of mercy, compassionate bend;
Inviting the wretched, rebellious and vile,
From ruin to flee, and repose in his smile.

The Prince of Salvation is coming, prepare
A way in the desert, his blessings to share:
He comes to relieve us from sin and from woes,
And bid the dark wilderness bud like the rose.

His reign shall extend from the east to the west,
Compose all the tumults of nature to rest,
The day-spring of glory illumines the skies,
And ages on ages of happiness rise.

The brute-hearted tempers of men shall grow tame,
The wolf and the lion lie down with the lamb;
The bear with the kine shall contentedly feed,
While children their young ones, in harmony lead.

The serpent shall dart all his venom in vain,
The rattle-snake, harmless, shall bask on the plain;
The infant shall play on the hole of the asp,
And, smiling, the folds of the cockatrice grasp.

No more shall the sound of the war-whoop be heard,
The ambush and slaughter, be no longer fear’d;
The tomahawk, buried, shall rust in the ground,
While peace and good will to the nations abound.

All spirit of war, to the gospel shall bow,
The bow lie, unstrung, at the tail of the plough;
To prune the young orchards, the spear shall be bent;
And loving the the world with a smile of content.

Slight tinctures of skin shall no longer engage,
The fury of jealous, murder and rage;
The white and the red shall, in friendship be join’d,
Wide spreading benevolences over mankind.

Hail! scene of felicity, transport and joy!
Where sin and vexation shall scarcely annoy:
Rich blessings of grace, from above, shall be giv’n,
And life only serve for a passage to heav’n!

Roll forward, dear Savior, roll forward the day
When all shall submit and rejoice in thy sway:
When white men and Indians, united in praise,
One vast hallelujah, triumphant, shall raise!

by  Lemuel Covell (1803)


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