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Ye days and nights, that fwiftly borne
From morn to eve, from eve to morn,
Alternate glide away,
Praise him, whofe never-varying light,
Abfent, adds horror to the night,
But, prefent, gives the day.

Light, from whofe rays all beauty springs;
Darknefs, whofe wide-expanded wings
Involve the dusky globe;

Praise him who, when the heav'ns he spread,
Darknets his thick pavilion made,
And light his regal robe.

Praife him, ye lightnings, as ve fly Wing'd with his vengeance thro' the sky, And red with wrath divine;

Praise him, ye clouds that wand'ring ftray,
Or, fix'd by him, in clofe array
Surround his awful thrine.

Exalt, O earth! thy Heav'nly King,
Who bids the plants that form the fpring
With annual verdure bloom;
Whofe frequent drops of kindly rain
Prolific fwell the rip'ning grain,

And blefs thy fertile womb.
Ye mountains, that ambitious rife,
And heave your fummits to the ikies,
Revere his awful nod;

Think how you once affrighted fled;
When Jordan fought his fountain-head,
And own'd the approaching God.
Ye trees, that fill the rural fcene;
Ye flow'rs, that o'er th' enamell'd green
In native beauty reign;
O praife the Ruler of the fkies,
Whofe hand the genial fap fupplies,
And clothes the finiling plam.
Ye fecret fprings, ve gentle rills,
That murm'ring rife among the hills,
Or fill the humble vale;
Praise him, at whofe Almighty nod
The rugged rock diffolving flow'd,
And form'd a fpringing well.
Praise him, ye floods, and feas profound,
Whole waves the fpacious earth furround,
And roll from thore to fhore;
Aw'd by his voice, yc feas, fubfide;
Ye floods, within your channels glide,
And tremble and adore.

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Praise him, ye beasts, that nightly roam Amid the folitary gloom,

Th' expected prey to feize; Ye flaves of the laborious plough, Your ftubborn necks fubmiffive bow, And bend your wearied knees. Ye fons of men, his praife difplay, Who ftamp'd his image on your clay,

And gave it pow'r to move; Ye that in Judah's confines dwell, From age to age fucceffive tell

The wonders of his love. Let Levi's tribe the lay prolong, Till angels liften to the fong,

And bend attentive down; Let wonder feize the heavenly train, Pleas'd while they hear a mortal ftrain So fweet, fo like their own. And you your thankful voices join, That oft at Salem's facred fhrine Before his altars kneel; Where thron'd in majefty he dwells, And from the myftic cloud reveals The dictates of his will.

Ye fpirits of the juft and good,
That, eager for the blefs'd abode,

To heavenly manfions foar;
Olet your fongs his praife difplay,
Till heaven itfelf fhall melt away,
And time fhall be no more!
Praife him, ye meek and humble train,
Ye faints, whom his decrees ordain

The boundless blifs to share;
O praife him, till ye take your way
To regions of eternal day,

And reign for ever there.
Let us, who now impatfive ftand,
Aw'd by the tyrant's ftern command,

Amid the fiery blaze; While thus we triumph in the flame, Rife, and our Maker's love proclaim, In hymns of endless praise.

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Know, when he bade the deep appear,
"Thus far," th' Almighty faid,
"Thus far, nor farther, rage; and here
"Let thy proud waves be stay'd.”
I heard; and, lo! at once controul'd,
The waves, in wild retreat,
Back on themfelves reluctant roll'd,
And murmuring left my feet.
Deeps to affembling deeps in vain
Once more the fignal gave:
The fhores the rushing weight fuftain,
And check th' ufurping wave.
Convinc'd, in Nature's volume wife,

The imag'd truth I read;
And fudden from my waking eyes
Th' inftructive vifion fled.

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more of earthly subjects sing;
To heaven, my mufe, afpire;
To raife the fong, charge ev'ry ftring,
And ftrike the living lyre.

Begin, in lofty numbers show

Th' Eternal King's unfathom'd love, Who reigns the Sov'reign God above, 1 And fuffers on the crois below. Prodigious pile of wonders! rais'd too high For the dim ken of frail mortality.

What numbers shall I bring along? From whence fhall I begin the fong? The mighty myftery I'll fing, infpir'd, Beyond the reach of human wifdom wrought, Beyond the compafs of an angel's thought, How by the rage of man his God expir'd. I'll make the tracklefs depths of mercy known, How to redeem his foe God render'd up his Son: I'll raife my voice to tell mankind

The victor's conqueft o'er his doom;
How in the grave he lay confin'd,

To feal more fure the rav'nous tomb.
F 2


Three days, th' infernal empire to fubdue,
He pais'd triumphant through the coafts of woe;
With his own dart the tyrant Death he flew,
And led Hell captive through her realms below.

A mingled found from Calvary I hear, And the loud tumult thickens on my ear, The fhouts of murd'rers that infult the flain, The voice of torment, and the fhrieks of pain. I caft my eyes with horror up

To the curft mountain's guilty top;

See there! whom hanging in the midft I view !
Ah! how unlike the other two!
I fee him high above his foes,
And gently bending from the wood
His head in pity down to thofe
Whofe guilt confpires to fhed his blood.
His wide-extended arms I fee
Transfix'd with nails, and faften'd to the tree.
Man, fenfelefs man! canft thou look on,
Nor make thy Saviour's pains thy own?
The rage of all thy grief exert,
Rend thy garments and thy heart :
Beat thy breaft, and grovel low,
Beneath the burden of thy woe;
Bleed through thy bowels, tear thy hairs,
Breathe gales of fighs, and weep a flood of tears.
Behold thy King, with purple cover'd round,
Not in the Tyrian tinctures dyed,
Nor dipt in poifon of Sidonian pride;
But in his own rich blood that ftreams from every


Doft thou not fee the thorny circle red? The guilty wreath that bluthes round his head? And with what rage the bloody fcourge applied Curls round his limbs, and ploughs into his fide! At fuch a fight let all thy anguilh rife; Break up, break the fountains of thy eyes.

up Here bid thy tears in gufhing torrents flow, Indulge thy grief, and give a loose to woe.

Weep from thy foul, till earth be drowa'd; Weep, till thy forrows drench the ground. Canft thou, ungrateful man! his torments fee, Nor drop a tear for him, who pours his blood¦ for thee?


§ 94. A Funeral Hymn. YE midnight fhades, o'er nature fpread!

Dumb filence of the dreary hour!
In honour of th' approaching dead,
Around your awful terrors pour.
Yes, pour around,
On this pale ground,
Through all this deep furrounding gloom,

The fober thought,
The tear untaught,

Thofe mecteft mourners at a tomb.

Lo! as the furplic'd train drew near
To this laft manfion of mankind,
The flow fad bell, the fable bier,
In holy muling wrap the mind!
And while their beam,
With trembling stream,

Attending tapers faintly dart; Each mould'ring bone, Each fculpur'd fione,

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Strikes mute inftruction to the heart! Now let the facred organ blow, With folemn pause, and founding flow; Now let the voice due measure keep, In ftrains that figh, and words that weep; Till all the vocal current blended roli, Not to deprefs, but lift the foaring foul :

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Make us eternal truths receive, And practise all that we believe: Give us thyfelf, that we may fee The Father, and the Son, by thee.

Left lurking Folly, with infidious art,
Regain my volatile inconftant heart!
Shall every high refolve Devotion frames
Be only lifelefs founds and fpecious names?
Oh rather, while thy hopes and fears controul,
In this still hour, each motion of my foul,
Secure its fafety by a fudden doom,
And be the foft retreat of fleep my tomb!
Calm let me lumber in that dark repofe,
Till the last morn its orient beam difclofe:
Then, when the great archangel's potent found

§ 96. On True Nobility. DRYDEN'S JUVENAL. Shall echo thro' creation's ample round,
Wak'd from the fleep of death, with joy furvey
The opening fplendours of eternal day.

Immortal honour, endlefs fame,
Attend th' Almighty Father's name :
The Saviour Son be glorified,
Who for loft man's redemption died;
And equal adoration be,

Eternai Paraclete, to thee!

NOBILITY of blood

Is but a glitt'ring and fallacious good.
The Nobleman is he, whofe noble mind [kind.
Is fill'd with inbred worth, unborrow'd from his
Virtue alone is true nobility:
Let your own acts immortalize your nanie,
'Tis poor relying on another's fame:
For take the pillars but away, and all
The fuperftructure muft in ruins fall;
As a vine droops, when by divorce remov'd
From the embraces of the clm the lov`d.

$97. A Night Piece. Mifs CARTER.
WHILE night in folemn fhade invefts the pole,
And calm reflection fooths the penfive foul,
While reafon undisturb'd afferts her way,
And life's deceitful colours fade away;
To thee! all-confcious Prefence! I devote
This peaceful interval of fober thought:
Here all my better faculties confine;
And be this hour of facred filence thine!

If, by the day's illufive scenes mifled,
My erring foul from virtue's path has stray'd;
Snar'd by example, or by paflion warm'd,
Some falfe delight my giddy fenfe has charm'd ;
My calmer thoughts the wretched choice reprove,
And my best hopes are centre'd in thy love.
Depriv'd of this, can life one joy afford?
Its utmost boast a vain unmeaning word.

But, ah! how oft my lawlefs paffions rove,
And break thofe awful precepts I approve!
Purfue the fatal impulfe I abhor,
And violate the virtue I adore !

Oft, when thy better Spirit's guardian care
Warn'd my fond foul to fhun the tempting fnare,
My ftubborn will his gentle aid reprefs'd,
And check'd the rifing goodneis in my breaft;
Mad with vain hopes, or urg'd by falfe defires,
Still'd his foft voice, and quench'd his facred fires.
With grief opprefs'd, and proftrate in the duft,
Shouldst thou condemn, I own thy fentence juft.
But, oh! thy fofter titles let me claim,
And plead my caufe by Mercy's gentle name.
Mercy that wipes the penitential tear,
And dilipates the horrors of defpair;
From righteous juftice ficals the vengeful hour,
Softens the dreadful attribute of pow'r,
Difarms the wrath of an offended God,
And feals my pardon in a Saviour's blood!
All-powerful Grace, exert thy gentle fway,
And teach my rebel paffions to obey;

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Thy life may all the tend'reft care
Of Providence defend;
And delegated angels round
Their guardian wings extend!
When thro' creation's vaft expanfe
The laft dread thunders roll,
Untune the concord of the fpheres,
And shake the rifing foul;
Unmov'd may&t thou the final ftorm
Of jarring worlds furvey,
That uhers in the glad ferene
Of everlafting day!

* Ver, I-II,

§ 100. The Vanity of Human Wishes. JOHNSON,

In Imitation of the Tenth Satire of Juvenal. LET* obfervation with extenfive view

Survey mankind, from China to Peru; Remark each anxious toil, each eager ftrife, And watch the bufy fcenes of crowded life; Then fay how hope and fear, defire and hate, O'erfpread with fhares the clouded maze of fate, Where wav'ring man, betray'd by vent'rous pride, To tread the dreary paths without a guide; As treach'rous phantoms in the mist delude, Shuns fancied ills, or chafes airy good: How rarely reafon guides the stubborn choice, Rules the bold hand, or prompts the fuppliant voice:

How nations fink by darling fchemes oppreft, When vengeance liftens to the fool's request. Fate wings with ev'ry wish th' afflictive dart, Each gift of nature, and each grace of art; With fatal heat impetuous courage glows, Thunder With fatal fweetnefs elocution flows;

Impeachment ftops the fpeaker's pow'rful breath, And retlefs fire precipitates on death.

+ But, fearce obferv'd, the knowing and the bold Fall in the gen'ral malfacre of gold; Wide-wafting peft! that rages unconfin'd, And crowds with crimes the records of mankind! For gold his fword the hircling ruffian draws, For gold the hircling judge diftorts the laws; Wealth heap'd on wealth nor truth nor fafety The dangers gather as the treafures rife. [buys;

Let hift'ry tell, where rival kings command, And dubious title thakes the madden'd land, When ftatutes glean the refufe of the fword, How much more fafe the vaffal than the lord: Low fculks the hind beneath the rage of pow'r, And leaves the wealthy traitor in the Tow'r, Untouch'd his cottage, and his flumbers found, Tho' confifcation's vultures hover round.

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