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But thou, oh Nymph retir'd and coy! In what brown hamlet doft thou joy

To tell thy tender tale?
The lowlieft children of the ground,
Mofs-rofe and violet, bloffom round,
And lily of the vale.

O fay what foft propitious hour
I beft may choofe to hail thy pow'r,
And court thy gentle fway?
When Autumn, friendly to the Mufe,
Shall thy own modeft tints diffufe,
And fhed thy milder day:

When Eve, her dewy ftar beneath,
Thy balmy fpirit loves to breathe,
And ev'ry ftorm is laid;

If fuch an hour was e'er thy choice,
Oft let me hear thy foothing voice
Low whifp'ring thro' the fhade.

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WISDOM! if thy foft controul Can footh the ficknefs of the foul, Can bid the warring paflions cease, And breathe the calm of tender peace; Wifdom! I blefs thy gentle fway, And ever, ever will obey.

But if thou com'ft with frown auftere To nurse the brood of care and fear; To bid our sweeteft paffions dic, And leave us in their room a figh; Or if thine afpect ftern have pow'r To wither each poor tranfient flow'r That cheers this pilgrimage of woe, And dry the fprings whence hope fhould flow; Wifdom, thine empire I difclaim, Thou empty boaft of pompous name! In gloomy fhade of cloifters dwell, But never haunt my cheerful cell. Hail to pleafure's frolic train! Hail to fancy's golden reign! Festive mirth, and laughter wild, Free and fportful as the child' Hope with eager fparkling eyes, And cafy faith, and fond furprife! Let thefe, in fairy colours dreft, For ever fhare my carclefs breaft : Then, tho' wife I may not be, The wife themfelves thall envy me.

$57. Defpondency. An Ode. BURNS. OPPRESS'D with grief, opprefs'd with care,

A burden more than I can bear,

I fit me down and figh:

O life thou art a galling load,
Along a rough, a weary road,
To wretches fuch as I!

Dim-backward as I caft my view,

What fick'ning fcenes appear!

What forrows yet may pierce me through,
Too juftly I may fear!

Still caring, defpairing,
Muft be my bitter dcom;

My woes here fhall close ne'er,

But with the clofing tomb!
Happy! ye fons of bufy life,
Who, equal to the buffling strife,
No other view regard!

Ev'n when the wifhed end 's denied,
Yet, while the bufy means are plied,
They bring their own reward:
Whilft I, a hope-abandon'd wight,
Unfitted with an aim,

Meet ev'ry fad returning night
And joyless morn the fame.
You, bufiling and juttling,
Forget each grief and pain;
I, littlefs yet reitlefs,

Find ev'ry profpe&t vain.
How bleft the Solitary's lot,
Who, all-forgetting, all-forgot,
Within this humble cell,

The cavern wild with tangling roots,
Sits o'er his newly-gather'd fruits,
Befide his cryftal well!

Or haply to his ev'ning thought,
By unfrequented stream,

The ways of men are diftant brought,

A faint-collected dreamn:

While praifing, and raifing

His thoughts to Heav'n on high,
As wand'ring, incand'ring,
He views the folemn fky.

Than I, no lonely Hermit plac'd
Where never human footstep trac'd,
Lefs fit to play the part,
The lucky moment to improve,
And just to ftep, and just to move,
With felf-refpecting art:

But ah! thofe picatures, loves, and joys,
Which I too keerly tatte,

The Solitary can defpife,
Can want, and yet be bleft!
He needs not, he heeds not,
Or human love or hate;
Whilft I here, muft cry here,
At perfidy ingrate!

Oh' enviable early days,

When dancing thoughtle's Pleafure's maze,
To Care, to Guilt unknown!
How ill exchang'd for riper times,
To feel the follies or the crimes
Of others, or my own!
Ye tiny elves, that guiltles fport
Like linnets in the bush,
Ye little know the ills ye court,
When manhood is your with!
The loffes, the croifes,

That active man engage;
The fears all, the tears all,
Of dim declining age!

$58. The Frailty and Folly of Man. PRIOR. GREAT Heav'n! how frail thy creature Man How by himself infenfibly betray'd!

is made!


In our own ftrength unhappily fecure,
Too little cautious of the adverfe pow'r;
And, by the blast of felf-opinion mov'd,
We with to charm, and feek to be belov'd.
On pleasure's flow'ry brink we idly stray,
Matters as yet of our returning way:
Seeing no danger, we difarm our mind,
And give our conduct to the waves and wind:
Then in the flow'ry mead, or verdant shade,
To wanton dalliance negligently laid,
We weave the chaplet, and we crown the bowl,
And fmiling fee the nearer waters roll;
Till the ftrong gufts of raging paffion rife,
Til the dire tempeft mingles earth and skies;
And, fwift into the boundlefs ocean borne,
Our foolish confidence too late we mourn:
Round our devoted heads the billows beat;
And from our troubled view the leffen'd lands


$59. A Paraphrafe on the latter Part of the Sixth

Chapter of St. Matthew. THOMSON. WHEN my breaft labours with oppreflive care, And o'er my cheek defcends the falling tear; While all my warring paffions are at ftrife, Oh let me liften to the words of life! Raptures deep-felt his doctrine did impart, And thus he rais'd from earth the drooping heart: Think not, when all your fcanty ftores afford Is fpread at once upon the fparing board; Think not, when worn the homely robe appears, While on the roof the howling tempeft bears; What farther fhall this feeble life fuftain, And what fhall clothe thefe fhiv'ring limbs again. Say, does not life its nourishment exceed ? And the fair body its invefting weed? Behold! and look away your low defpairSee the light tenants of the barren air: To them nor ftores nor granaries belong, Nought but the woodland and the pleafing fong; Yet your kind heav'nly Father bends his eye On the leaft wing that flits along the iky. To him they fing when fpring renews the plain," To him they cry in winter's pinching reign; Nor is their mufic or their plaint in vain : He hears the gay and the diftrefsful call, And with unfparing bounty fills them all. Obferve the rifing lily's fnowy grace, Obferve the various vegetable race; They neither toil nor fpin, but careless grow, Yet fee how warm they bluth! how bright they glow!


What regal veftments can with them compare?
What king fo fhining, or what queen fo fair?
If ceafelefs thus the fowls of heaven he feeds,
If o'er the fields fuch lucid robes he spreads,
Will he not care for you, ye faithless, say?
Is he unwife? or are ye lefs than they?

60. Songs of Praife. WATTS. A general Song of Praise to God. HOW glorious is our heav'nly King, Who reigns above the sky!

How fhall a child prefume to fing
His dreadful Majefty!

How great his pow'r is, none can tell,
Nor think how large his grace;
Not men below, nor faints that dwell
On high before his face.

Not angels, that stand round the Lord,
Can fearch his fecret will;
But they perform his heav'nly word,
Then let me join this holy train,
And fing his praifes ftill.
And my first off rings bring;
Th' eternal God will not difdain
To hear an infant fing.

My heart refolves, my tongue obeys;
And angels fhall rejoice

To hear their mighty Maker's praise
Sound from a feeble voice.

Praife for Creation and Providence, I SING th' almighty pow'r of God, That made the mountains rife ;

That fpread the flowing feas abroad,

And built the lofty kies!

I fing the Wisdom that ordain'd
The fun to rule the day;

The moon fhines full at his command,
And all the stars obey.

I fing the goodness of the Lord,

That fill'd the earth with food; He form'd the creatures with his word, And then pronounc'd them good. Lord, how thy wonders are display'd, Where'er I turn mine eye! If I furvey the ground I tread, Or gaze upon the sky; There's not a plant or flow'r below But makes thy glories known; And clouds arife, and tempelts blow, By order from thy throne. Creatures (as nuin'rous as they be) Are fubject to thy care;

There's not a place where we can flee, But God is present there.

In heav'n he fhines with beams of love, With wrath in hell beneath! 'Tis on his earth I stand or move,

And 'tis his air I breathe.

His hand is my perpetual guard :
He keeps me with his eye:
Why fhould I then forget the Lord,
Who is for ever nigh?

Praife to God for our Redemption.
BLEST be the wisdom and the pow'r,
The justice and the grace,
That join'd in council to restore

And fave our ruin'd race!

Our father ate forbidden fruit,
And from his glory fell;

And we his children thus were brought
To death, and near to hell.



Bleft be the Lord that fent his Son

To take our flesh and blood! He for our lives gave up his own, To make our peace with God. He honour'd all his Father's laws, Which we have difobey'd; He bore our fins upon the crofs, And our full ransom paid. Behold him rising from the grave; Behold him rais'd on high: He pleads his merit, there to fave Tranfgrefors doom'd to die. There on a glorious throne he reigns, And by his pow'r divine

Redeems us from the flavish chains

Of Satan and of fin.

Thence fhall the Lord to judgment come,
And with a fov'reign voice
Shall call and break up ev'ry tomb,
While waking faints rejoice.

O may I then with joy appear
Before the Judge's face!

And, with the blefs 'd affembly there,
Sing his redeeming grace!

Praife for Mercies Spiritual and Temporal.

WHENE'ER I take my walks abroad,
How many poor I fee!
What shall I render to my God
For all his gifts to me!

Not more than others I deferve,

Yet God has giv'n me more;
For I have food while others -starve,
Or beg from door to door.
How many children in the street
Half naked I behold!

While I am cloth'd from head to feet,
And cover'd from the cold!

While fome poor wretches fcarce can tell
Where they may lay their head,

I have a home wherein to dwell,

And rest upon my bed.

While others early learn to fwear,

And curfe, and lie, and steal, Lord, I am taught thy name to fear,

And do thy holy will.

Are thefe thy favours, day by day,
To me above the reft?

Then let me love thee more than they,

And try to serve thee beft,

Praife for Birth and Education in a Chriftian Land.

GREAT God! to thee my voice I raife,
To thee my youngest hours belong;
I would begin my life with praise,
Till growing years improve the fong.
'Tis to thy fov'reign grace I owe
That I was born on British ground;
Where ftreams of heav'nly mercy flow,
And words of fweet falvation found.

I would not change my native land
For rich Peru, with all her gold:
A nobler prize lies in my hand
Than Eaft or Western Indies hold.
How do I pity those that dwell
Where ignorance or darkness reigns!
They know no heav'n, they fear no hell,
Thofe endlefs joys, thofe endless pains.
Thy glorious promifes, O Lord,
Kindle my hopes and my defire;
While all the preachers of thy word
Warn me to 'fcape eternal fire.

Thy praife fhall ftill employ my breath,
Since thou haft mark'd my way to heav'n;
Nor will I run the road to death,
And waste the bleffings thou haft giv'n.

Praise for the Gospel.

LORD, I ascribe it to thy grace,
And not to chance, as others do,
That I was born of Chriftian race,
And not a Heathen or a Jew.

What would the ancient Jewish kings

And Jewish prophets once have giv'n,

Could they have heard thofe glorious things
Which Chrift reveal'd and brought from heav'n!

How glad the Heathens would have been,
That worship'd idols, wood and stone,
If they the book of God had feen,
Or Jefus and his gofpel known!
Then, if this gofpel I refuse,
How fhall I c'er lift up mine eyes!
For all the Gentiles and the Jews
Against me will in judgment rife.

Praife to God for learning to Read.
THE praifes of my tongue

I offer to the Lord,

That I was taught, and learnt so young, To read his holy word.

That I am brought to know

The danger I was in ;
By nature, and by practice too,
A wretched flave to fin,
That I am led to fee

I can do nothing well;
And whither fhall a finner flee
To fave himself from hell?
Dear Lord, this book of thine
Informs me where to go
For grace to pardon all my fin,
And make me holy too.
Here I can read and learn,

How Chrift, the Son of God,
Did undertake our great concern;
Our ranfom coft his blood.
And now he reigns above,

He fends his Spirit down
To fhew the wonders of his love
And make his gospel known.


O may that Spirit teach,
And make my heart receive,

Thofe truths, which all thy fervants preach,
And all thy faints believe !

Then fhall I praife the Lord,

In a more cheerful strain,

That I was taught to read his word,
And have not learnt in vain.

§ 61. The Excellency of the Bible demonftrated.


GREAT God, with wonder and with praise
On all thy works I look;

But fill thy wifdom, pow'r, and grace,
Shine brightest in thy book.

The ftars, that in their courfes roll,
Have much inftruction given;
But thy good word informs my foul
How I may climb to heaven.
The fields provide me food, and fhew
The goodnefs of the Lord;
But fruits of life and glory grow
In thy most holy word.
Here are my choicest treasures hid,
Here my best comfort lies:
Here my defires are fatisfied,
And hence my hopes arise.
Lord, make me understand thy law,
Shew what my faults have been;
And from thy gospel let me draw
Pardon for all my fin.

Here would I learn how Chrift has died
To fave my foul from hell:

Not all the books on earth befide
Such heav'nly wonders tell.

Then let me love my Bible more,

And take a fresh delight

By day to read thefe wonders o'er,
And meditate by night.

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ALMIGHTY God, thy piercing eye

Strikes thro' the fhades of night,

And our moft fecret actions lie

All open to thy fight.

There's not a fin that we commit,

Nor wicked word we fay,

But in thy dreadful book 'tis writ,
Againft the judgment day.

And must the crimes that I have done
Be read and publish'd there?
Be all expos'd before the Sun,
While men and angels hear?
Lord, at thy foot afham'd I lie;
Upward I dare not look :
Pardon my fins before I die,

And blot them from thy book.
Remember all the dying pains
That my Redeemer felt;

And let his blood wash out my ftains, And antwer for my guilt.

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§ 63. Solemn Thoughts concerning God and Death. WATTS

THERE is a God that reigns above,

Lord of the heav'ns, and earth, and feas:
I fear his wrath, I ask his love,
And with my lips I fing his praife.
There is a law which he has writ,
To teach us all what we must do:
My foul, to his commands fubinit,
For they are holy, juft, and true.
There is a gospel of rich grace,
Whence finners all their comforts draw:
Lord, I repent, and feek thy face,
For I have often broke thy law.
There is an hour when I muft die,
Nor do I know how foon 't will come
A thoufand children, young as I,
Are call'd by death to hear their doom.
Let me improve the hours I have,
Before the day of grace is fled;
There's no repentance in the grave,
Nor pardons offer'd to the dead.
Juft as the tree, cut down, that fell
To north or fouthward, there it lies;
So man departs to heav'n or hell,
Fix'd in the ftate wherein he dies.

$64. Heaven and Hell WATTE HERE is beyond the sky


A heav'n of joy and love;

And holy children, when they die

Go to that world above.

There is a dreadful hell,

And everlasting pains;

There finners must with devils dwell,
In darkness, fire, and chains.

Can fuch a wretch as I

Efcape this curfed end?
And may I hope, whene'er I dic,
I fhall to heav'n afcend?
Then will I read and pray,

While I have life and breath,
Left I fhould be cut off to-day,
And fent to eternal death.

§ 65. The Advantages of early Religion. WATTS. HAPPY the child whofe tender years

Receive inftructions well;
Who hates the finner's path, and fears
The road that leads to hell.

When we devote our youth to God,
'Tis pleafing in his eyes;

A flow'r when offer'd in the bud
Is no vain facrifice.

'Tis cafier work, if we begin

To fear the Lord betimes;

While finners that grow old in fin

Are harden'd in their crimes.

"Twill fave us from a thousand fnares,

To mind religion young;

Grace will preferve our following years,
And make our virtue ftrong.
To thee, almighty God, to thee,
Our childhood we refign;
"Twill please us to look back and fee

That our whole lives were thine.

Let the fweet work of pray'r and praise
Employ my youngest breath;
Thus I'm prepar'd for longer days,
Or fit for early death.


66. The Danger of Delay.
WHY thould I fay, " "Tis yet too foon
"To feek for Heav'n, or think of death?"
A flow'r may fade before 'tis noon,
And I this day may lofe my breath.
If this rebellious heart of mine
Despise the gracious calls of Heaven,
I may be harden'd in my fin,
And never have repentance given.

What if the Lord grow wroth, and fwear,
While I refufe to read and pray,
That he 'll refufe to lend an ear
To all my groans another day!
What if his dreadful anger burn,
While I refufe his offer'd grace,
And all his love to fury turn,
And ftrike me dead upon the place!
'Tis dangerous to provoke a God!
His pow'r and vengeance none can tell:
One ftroke of his almighty rod
Shall fend young finners quick to hell.
Then 'twill for ever be in vain
To cry for pardon and for grace;
To with I had my time again,
Or hope to fee my Maker's face!

67 Examples of early Picty. WATTS. WHAT blefs'd examples do I find

Writ in the word of truth,
Of children that began to mind

Religion in their youth!
Jefus, who reigns above the sky,

And keeps the world in awe,
Was once a child as young as I,
And kept his Father's law.

At twelve years old he talk'd with men,
(The Jews all wond'ring ftand)
Yet he obey'd his mother then,
And came at her command.
Children a fweet hofannah fung,

And blefs'd their Saviour's name!
They gave him honour with their tongue,
While feribes and pricfts blafpheme.

Samuel the child was wean'd, and brought

To wait upon the Lord;

Young Timothy betimes was taught
To know his holy word.

Then why should I fo long delay

What others learn fo foon? I would not pafs another day Without this work begun.

§ 68. Again Lying. WATTS.

'Tis a lovely thing for youth
To walk betimes in wifdom's way;
To fear a lie, to speak the truth,
That we may truft to all they fay.

But liars we can never truft,

Tho' they fhould fpeak the thing that 's true!
And he that does one fault at first,

And lies to hide it, makes it two.
Have we not known, nor heard, nor read,
How God abhors deceit and wrong?
How Ananias was ftruck dead,
Caught with a lie upon his tongue?
So did his wife Sapphira die,
When the came in, and grew fo bold
As to confirm that wicked lic
That just before her husband told.

The Lord delights in them that speak
The words of truth; but ev'ry liar
Muft Ive his portion in the lake

That burns with brimftone and with fire
Then let me always watch my lips,
Left I be ftruck to death and hell,
Since God a book of reck'ning keeps
For ev'ry lie that children teil.

§ 69. Againf Quarvelling and Fighting. WATTS.


ET dogs delight to bark and bite,

For God hath made them fo;
Let bears and lions growl and fight,
For 'tis their nature too:

But, children, you should never let
Such angry paffions rife;

Your little hands were never made
To tear each other's eyes.

Let love through all your actions run,
And all your words be mild;
Live like the bleffed Virgin's Son,
That fweet and lovely Child.

His foul was gentle as a lamb :

And, as his ftature grew,
He grew in favour both with man
And God his Father too.

Now, Lord of all, he reigns above;

And from his heav'nly throne
He fees what children dwell in love,
And marks them for his own.

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