CLXVIII. The Error of despising the Day of small Things.

"WHat haughty Scorner, saith the Lord,
"Shall humble Things despise,
"When he beholds them with Delight,
"Who reigns beyond the Skies?

"I from a Chaos dark and wild
"Made Heav'ns bright Host appear:
"I from the small unnotic'd Seeds
"The loftiest Cedars rear.

"From Eden's Dust I Adam form'd,
"The noblest human Frame;
"And in his humble Sons display
"The Honours of my Name.

"From Fishermen, in Number few,
"In human Arts untaught,
"All the wide Realms, my Church can boast,
"My potent Hand hath brought.

"The pious Poor, by Men despis'd,
"In dearest Bonds are mine;
"Once hardly drest in humble Weeds ,
"They now like Angels shine".

LORD, if such Trophies rais'd from Dust
Thy sov'reign Glory be,
Here in my Heart thy Pow'r may find
Materials fit for Thee.