MASONIC HYMN, Sung by charity scholars in St. George's Chapel, New-York, Dec. 27, 1787, after a charity…

Thou great first cause, whose wisdom plan'd, Whose pow'r atchiev'd the boundless scheme, The match'ess fabric of thy hand Proclaim the architect supreme.

Ye angels, that surround his throne, Who form'd at first his joyful train, When laying the foundation stone; As then ye shouted, shout again.

Ye glorious orbs, that roll on high, Exulting run your bright career, And through the regions of the sky Resound his praise from sphere to sphere.

O praise him, thou terraqueous globe, Who, tho' no native light be thine, Hath cloth'd thee with a lucid robe, And caus'd thy grosser mould to shine.

Breathe praise, thou circumambient air, Responsive sound, thou spacious main; Aloft, ye hills, your tribute bear, Whilst lowly vales resound the strain.

Ye lowest in the vital scale, That wing the air or tread the ground, His praises wast on every gale, Join all that cleave the vast profound.

Thou sov'reign of this earthly ball, With reason's voice the concert join: But most let us thy name extol, Our Lord, our architect divine.

With us let ev'ry heart be love, Let ev'ry tongue be grateful praise, Let ev'ry thought be realms above, Let every voice be choral lays.

Ye mournful widows, form our train, Ye helpless orphans lend your voice, Our sympathy shall footh your pain: So, so shall all with us rejoice!