UPON SILENCE [Written by another Hand.]

What Muse so soft, or who is sit to sing Thy Praise, thou mighty passive Thing? Who can define thy Genealogy, Thou Product of the Deity? For before any Thing, thou hadst thy Place Extended through the wide and empty Space.

Th' Inhabitants above, in that bright Sphere, Acknowledge thee a Being there, When they their Hymns and Hallelujahs sing To their high and heavenly King, In a most reverend Frame, make use of thee To magnify the great Solemnity.

When Horeb's Mount was topt with Fire & Smoke And with a dreadful Trembling shook; To add unto its Horror and its Wonder, The Rocks and Mountans split asunder: Yet ne'ertheless, JEHOVAH was not there, But in the silent Voice he did appear.

Though Voice and Speech alone to Man was given, To worship him, whose Throne is Heaven; Yet in an awful reverend Silence, he Admits of a Discovery; For to his Ears, Words utter'd without Noise. Are louder languag'd than a vocal Voice.

What Praise is due to thee, thou calm Abode, Thou Rest of Souls, that worship God In thy Recess; the Spirit doth convey To Man the Knowledge of the Way, That leads to where Desires terminate, Where more's enjoy'd than Mortals can relate.

Though some confess the Pleasure of thy Loves, Thy nightly Walks and silent Groves, Thy sweet Retirements, and thy pleasant Shades, Where neither Wind nor Storm invades; Where Pleasure's free, unmixt, and unconfin'd, Always attend upon a quiet Mind.

Yet very few there are, that really be Fully satisfy'd with thee: Therefore thine artless Altar neglected lies, For want of holy Votaries; Whilst Noise, thine Enemy, ascends the Chair, And Crowds her Praises echo through the Air.