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O guide my judgment and my taste,Sweet Spirit, author of the bookOf wonders, told in language chasteAnd plainness, not to be mistook. O let me muse, and yet at sightThe page admire, the page believe;”Let there be light, and there was light,Let there be Paradise and Eve!”Who his soul’s rapture can refrain?At Joseph’s ever pleasing taleOf marvels, the prodigious train,To Sinai’s hill from Goshen’s vale.The psalmist and proverbial seer,And all the prophets sons of song,Make all things precious, all things dear,And bear the brilliant word along. O take the book from off the shelf,And con it meekly on thy knees;Best panegyric on itself,And self-avouch’d to teach and please.Respect, adore it heart and mind.How greatly sweet, how sweetly grand,Who reads the most, is most refind’d,And polish’d by the Master’s hand.
