All Saint's Day
from Hickes' Devotions
Wake, all my hopes, lift up your eyes
And crown your heads with mirth:
See how they shine beyond the skies,
Who once dwelt on our earth.
Peace, busy thoughts; away, vain cares,
That cloy us here below:
Let us go up above the spheres,
And to each order bow.
Hail, glorious Angels, heirs of light,
The high born sons of fire;
Whose heats burn chaste, whose flames shine bright,
All joy, yet all desire.
Hail, holy Saints, who long in hope,
Long in the shadow sate;
Till our victorious Lord set ope
Heaven's everlasting gate.
Hail, great Apostles of the Lamb,
Who brought that early ray,
Which from our Sun reflected came,
And made our first fair day.
Hail, generous Martyrs, whose strong hearts
Bravely rejoiced to prove,
How weak, pale Death, are all thy darts
Compared to those of Love.
Hail, blessed Confessors, who died
A death too, love did give;
While your own flesh you crucified,
To make your Spirit live.
Hail, beauteous Virgins, whose chaste love
Renounced all fond desires;
Who wisely fixed your hearts above;
And burnt with heavenly fires.
Hail, all you happy Spirits above,
Who make that glorious ring,
About the sparkling throne of Love,
And there for ever sing.
Hail, and among your crowns of praise,
Present this little wreath,
Which, while your lofty notes you raise,
We humbly sing beneath.
All glory to the sacred Three,
One everliving Lord,
As at the first still may He be
Belov'd, obey'd, adored.
