ABOUT GOD’S MERCIES

 

                   ABOUT GOD’S MERCIES

God’s origin is un-knowable. He is eternally mysterious. No saint, sage, scholar, philosopher, scientist can answer our queries about God, the creator of the world. That the whole creation is His gift is undeniable. So are the innumerable mercies which He showers upon humanity right from childhood till the last stage of life.

            What follows is a hymn-like poem  by the English poet, essayist and journalist Joseph Addison (1672-1719). The title of the poem  is : When all Thy Mercies, O My God. To put it briefly this poem praises God for all the physical, mental and  material mercies which He showers upon  us right from infancy to old age.

            The poems language is simple.  Its rhyming scheme creates a sense of sincerity and accessibility. Compared to Addison’s other poems like “Ode on St. Cecilia’s Day” this poem is less political and more religious.

            The poem reads as follows:

When all Thy mer­cies, O my God,
My ris­ing soul sur­veys,
Transported with the view, I’m lost
In won­der, love and praise.

O, how shall words with eq­ual warmth
The gra­ti­tude de­clare,
That glows with­in my ra­vished heart!
But Thou canst read it there.

Thy pro­vi­dence my life sus­tained,
And all my wants re­dressed,
While in the si­lent womb I lay,
And hung up­on the breast.

To all my weak comp­laints and cries
Thy mer­cy lent an ear,
Ere yet my fee­ble thoughts had learned
To form them­selves in pray­er.

Unnumbered com­forts to my soul
Thy ten­der care be­stowed,
Before my in­fant heart con­ceived
From whom those com­forts flowed.

When in the slip­pery paths of youth
With heed­less steps I ran,
Thine arm un­seen con­veyed me safe,
And led me up to man.

Through hid­den dan­gers, toils, and death,
It gent­ly cleared my way;
And through the pleas­ing snares of vice,
More to be feared than they.

When worn with sick­ness, oft hast Thou
With health re­newed my face;
And when in sins and sor­rows sunk,
Revived my soul with grace.

Thy boun­te­ous hand with world­ly bliss
Hath made my cup run o’er;
And, in a kind and faith­ful friend,
Hath dou­bled all my store.

Ten thou­sand, thou­sand pre­cious gifts
My dai­ly thanks em­ploy;
Nor is the least a cheer­ful heart
That tastes those gifts with joy.

Through ev­ery pe­ri­od of my life
Thy good­ness I’ll pur­sue
And af­ter death, in dist­ant worlds,
The glo­ri­ous theme renew.

When na­ture fails, and day and night
Divide Thy works no more,
My ever grate­ful heart, O Lord,
Thy mer­cy shall adore.

Through all eter­ni­ty to Thee
A joy­ful song I’ll raise;
For, oh, eter­ni­ty’s too short
To ut­ter all Thy praise!

         

 

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G.R.Kanwal

17^th October 2024