a

§ 93•

And when he gets up, he fits folding his hands ; / 'Tis a foolish self deceiving,
Or walks about saunt'ring, or trilling hc stands. By such tricks to hope for gain :
I pass’d by his garden, and saw the wild brier,

All that's ever got by thieving,
The thorn and the thistle grow broader and higher;

Turns to forrow, fiame, and pain.
The clothes that hang on him are turning to rags; Hare not Eve and Adam taught us
And his moneyftill wastes, till he starves or he begs. Their sad profit to compute ?
I made him a visit, ftill hoping to find

To what dismal state they brought us,
He had took better care for improving his mind; When they stole forbidden fruit!
He told me hisdreams, taik’d of caringanddrinking, Oft wc fcc a young beginner
But he scarce reads his Bible, and never loves Practife little pilföring ways,
thinking.

Till grown up a harden'd finner:
Said I then to my hcart, “ Here's a lesson for me;

Then the gallows ends his days. That man's but a picture of what I might bc: Theft will not be always hidden, But thanks to my friends for their care in my Though we fancy none can fpy: breeding,

(reading!" When we take a thing forbidden, Who taught mc betimes to love working and God beholds it with his cye.

Guard my heart, O God of heaven, $90. Innocent Play. Watts.

Left I covet what's not mine :
ABROAD in the meadows, tosee the younglambs Left I fteal what is not given,
Run sporting about by the side of their

dams, Guard my heart and hands from fin.
With fleeces fo clean and so white;
Or a nest of young doves in a large open cage,
When they play all in love, without anger or rage,

The Ant, or Emmet. WATTS. How much we may learn from the light !

TH
HESE emmets, how little they are in our eyes !

We tread thein to dust, and a troop of them If we had been ducks, we might dabble in mud;

dies, Or dogs, we might play till it ended in blood; So foul and so fierce are their natures :

Without our regard or concern : But Thomas and Williain, and fuch pretty names, There's many a fluggard, and many a fool,

Yet as wite as we are, if we went to their school, Should be cleanly and harmless as doves or as Those lovely sweet innocent creatures. (lambi,

Some lessons of wildom might learn. Not a thing that we do, nor a word that we tay, But gather up corn in a fun-fhiny day,

They don't wear their time out in sleeping or play, Should hinder another in jeftiog or play ; For he's still in carncit that's hurt : (mire!

And for winter they lay up their ttores : How rude are the boys that throw pebbics and One would think they forefaw all the frosts and

They manage their work in such regular forms, There's none but a madman will fing about fire, And tell you, ""Tis all but in sport.”

the storms,

And so brought their food within doors. $91. The Rojë. Watts.

But I have less sense than a poor creeping ant,

If I take not duc care for the things I shall want, How far is the role: what a bcautiful flow'e! Nor provide against dangers in time. The of April and May

When death or old age shall stare in my face, But the Icaves are beginning to fade in an hour, What a wretch thall i be in the end of my days, And they wither and dic in a day.

If I trifle

away

all their prime! Yet the rose has one powerful virtue to boast, Now, now, while my strength and iny youth are Above all the flow'rs of the field : [loft, in bloom,

[thall come, When its leaves are all dead, and finc colours are Let me think what will ferve me when ficknefs Still how sweet a perfuine it will yield !

And pray that my lins bc forgiven : So frail is the youth and the beauty of men, Let me read in good books, and believe and obey, Tho' they bloom and look gay like the roso: That when death turns me out of this cottage

of But all our fond care to preserve them is vain;

dwell in a palace in heaven. (clay, Time kills thein as fait as he gocs. Then I'll not be proud of my youth or my beauty, Since both of them wither and fade;

$ 94. Good Resolutions. WATTS. But gain a good name by well doing my duty; THOUGH I am now in younger days, This will fccnt like a rose when I'm dead. Nor can tell what shall befal me,

I'll prepare for ev'ry place
The Thief. WATTS.

Where my growing age shall call ine.

Should I e'cr be rich or great, WHY Mhould I deprive my ncighbour of his goods against his will?

Others shall partake my goodness; Hards were inade for lioncf labour,

I'll supply the poor with meat, Not to plunder or to steal.

Narer lheyring Icom or rudeness.

a

a

I may

a

a

$ 92.

Where

a

Where I see the blind or lame,

Sleep, my babe; thy food and raiment, Deaf or dumb, I'll kindly treat them;

House and home, thy friends provide; I deserve to feel the fame,

All without thy care or payment, If I mock, or hurt, or chear chem.

All thy wants are well supplied. If I meet with railing tongues,

How inuch better thou'rt attended Why should I return them railing?

Than the Son of God could be; Since I beft revenge my wrongs

When from heaven he descended, By my patience never failing.

And became a child like thee! When I hear them telling lyes,

Soft and casy is thy cradle, Talking foolifb, cursing, swearing;

Coarse and hard thy Saviour lay; Fift I'll try to make them wise,

When his birth-place was a stable, Or I'll foon go out of hearing.

And his softest bed was hay. What though I be low and mean,

Blessed babe! what glorious features I'll engage the rich to love me,

Spotlefs fair, divinely bright! While I'm modest, neat, and clean,

Muit he dwell with brutal creatures? And submit when they reprove me.

How could angels bear the light? If I should be poor and fick,

Was there nothing but a manger I shall meet, I hope, with pity;

Cursed sinners could afford, Since I love to help the weak,

To receive the heav’nly stranger ? Though they're neither fair nor wirty.

Did they thus affront their Lord? I'll not willingly offend,

Soft, my child; I did not chide thee, Nor be easily offended!

Though my song might found too hard : What's amiss I'll ftrive to mend,

* mother

'Tis thy {nure that } fits beside thee, And endure what can't be mended.

And her arms shall be thy guard.
May I be so watchful ftill
O'er my humours and my passion,

Yet to read the shameful story,
As tn {pcak and do no ill,

How the Jews abus'd their King, Though it should be all the fashion.

How they serv'd the Lord of glory, Wicked fashions lead to hell;

Makes me angry while I sing. Ne'er may I be found complying;

Sce the kinder shepherds round him, Bar in life behave so well,

Telling wonders from the sky! Not to be afraid of dying.

Where they fought him, there they found hius,

With his Virgin mother by.

See the lovely babe a-dressing. 995. A Summer Evening. Watts.

Lovely Infant, how he smild! How fine has the day been, how bright was When he wept, the Mother's blessing the sun,

Sooth'd and hush'd the holy child
How lovely and joyful the course that he run, Lo, he Numbers in his manger,
Though he rose in a mitt when his race he begun, Where the horned oxen fed :

And there follow'd some droppings of rain! Peace, my darling, here's no danger,
But now the fair traveller's come to the west, Here's no ox a-near thy bed.
His rays are all gold, and his beauties are best;

'Twas to save thee, child, from dying,
He paints the sky gay as he finks to his rest,
And foretels á bright rising again.

Save iny dear from burning Aame,
Bitter groans,

and endiefs crying,
Just such is the Christian : his course he begins, That thy bleft Redeemer came.
Like the fun in a mist, when he mourns for his fins, May'st thou live to know and fear hiin,
And melts into tcars; then he breaks out and shines,

Trust and love him all thy days;
And travels his heavenly way:

Then But, when he comes nearer to finith his race,

go dwell for ever ncar him, Like a fine setting fun, he looks richer in grace,

See his face, and fing his praise ! And gives a sure hope at the end of his days

I could give thee thousand kisses, of rifing in brighter array !

Hoping what I must defire;

Not a mother's fondest wishes ♡ 96. A Cradle Hymn. Watts.

Can to greater joys aspire ! HUSH! my dear, lie still and Number,

The Nunc Dimittis. MERRICK. Holy angels guard thy bed! Heav'nly blellings, without number,

'T'S enough-the hour is come: Gently falling on thy head.

Now within the filcnt tomb
Here you may use the words Broeber, Sifter, Neighbour, Friend, &c.

Let

$ 97.

Let this mortal frame decay,

Ye how'rs and dews, whose moisture shed Mingled with its kindred clay;

Calls into life the op'ning feed, Since thy mercies, oft of old

To him your praises yield, By thy chofon seers foretold,

Whose influence wakes the genial birth, Faithful new and fedfast prove,

Drops fatness on the pregnant earth, God of truth, and God of love!

And crowns the laughing field. Since at length my zyed eye

Ye winds, that oft tempestuous sweep Sees the day-spring from on high!

The rutiled surface of the deep, Son of righteousness, to thee,

With us confess your God, Lo! the nations bow the knce;

See thro' the heav'ns the King of kings,
And the realms of diftant kings

Upborne on your expanded wings,
Own the healing of thy wings.
Those whom death had overspread

Come flying all abroad.
With his dark and dreary shade,

Ye foods of fire, where'er ye

flow, Lift their eyes, and from afar

With just submillion humbly bow Hail the light of Jacob's Star;

To his superior pow'r, Waiting till the promis'd ray

Who stops the tempest on its way, Tarn their darkness into day.

Or bids the flaming deluge stray, See the beams, intensely ined,

And gives it itrength to roar. Shine o'er Sion's favour'd head!

Ye summer's heat, and winter's cold, Never may they hence remove,

By turns in long luccellion rollid,
God of truth, and God of love!

The drooping world to checr,
Praise him who gave the sun and moon

To lead the various seasons on,
$ 98. The Benedicite paraphrafed. MERRICK. And guide the circling year.
YE works of God, on him alone;

Ye frosts, that bind the wat’ry plain,
In carth his footstool, heav'n his throne,

Ye filent show'rs of Acecy rain,
Be all your praise bestow'd;

Pursue the heav'nly theme;
Whose hand the beautcous fabric made, Praise bim who sheds the driving snow,
Whose eye the finish'd work survey d,

Forbids the harden'd wares to flow, And saw that all was good.

And stops the rapid stream. Ye angels, that with loud acclaim

Ye days and nights, that swiftly borne Admiring view'd the new-born frame,

From morn to eve, from eve to morn, And haild th' Eternal King,

Alternate glide away, Again proclaim your Maker's praise;

Praise him, whose never-varying light, Again your thankful voices raise,

Abfent, adds horror to the night, And touch the tuneful ftring.

But, present, gives the day. Praise him, ye bleft æthercal plains,

Licht, from whose rays all beauty springs; Where, in full majefty, he deigns

Darknets, whofe wide-expanded wings To fix his awful throne :

Involve the dusky globe; Ye waters that above him roll,

Praise himn who, when the heav'ns he fpread, From orb to orb, from pole to pole,

Darkneis his thick pavilion made,
O make his praises known!

And light his regal robe.
Ye thrones, dominions, virtucs, pow'rs, Praise him, ye lightnings, as ye fly,
Join ye your joyful fungs with ours;

Wing'd with his vengeance thro' the sky,
With us your voices raile;

And red with wrath divine; From age to age extend the lay,

Praise him, ye clouds that wand'ring stray, To heaven's Eternal Monarch

pay

Or, fix'd by him, in close array Hymns of cternal praise.

Surround his awful fhrine, Celestial orb! whose pow'rful ray

Exalt, О carth! thy Heav'nly King, Opes the glad cyelids of the day,

Who bids the plants that form the fpring Whole influence all things own;

With annual verdure bloom; Praise him, whosc courts effulgent thine Whose frequent drops of kindly rain With light as far excelling thinc,

Prolific fivell the hip’ning grain, As thine the paler moon.

And bless thy fertile womb. Ye glitt'riog planets of the sky,

Ye mountains, that ambitious rise, Whose lamps the abd'nt fun fupply,

And heave your summits to the skies, With him the fong pursuc;

Revere his awful nod; And let himseif submitlive own,

Think how you once afrighted fled, He borrows from a brighter Sun

When Jordan fought his fountain-head, The light he lends to you

And own'd th' approaching Gode

Ye

Ye trees, that fill the rural scene ;

The boundless bliss to share ; Ye flow'rs, that o'er th' enameli'd green O praise him, till ye take your way In native beauty reign ;

To regions of eternal day, O praise the Ruler of the skics,

And reign for ever there.
Whofe hand the genial fap supplies,

Let us, who now impassive Atand,
And clothes the smiling plain.

Aw'd by the tyrant's stern comm

nmand, Ye fecret springs, ye gentle rills,

Ainid the fiery blaze;
That murm’ring rise among the hills,

While thus we triumph in the flame,
Or till the huinble vale;

Rife, and our Maker's love proclaim,
Praise him, at whose Almighty nod

In hymns of endless praise. The rugged rock diffolving flow'd,

And forin'd a springing well. Praise him, ye foods, and seas profound, $ 99. The Ignorance of Man. MERRICK Whose waves the spacious earth surround, And roll from shore to shore;

BEHOLD yon new-born infant griev'd

With hunger, thirst, and pain ; Aw'd by his voice, ye seas, sublide;

That asks to have the wants reliev'd
Ye foods, within your channels glide,

It knows not to complain.
And tremble and adore.

Aloud the speechless suppliant cries,
Ye whales, that ftir the boiling deep,

And utters, as it can,
Or in its dark receffes sleep,
Remote from human eye,

The wocs that in its bosom rise,

And speak its naturc-man.
Praise him by whom ye all are fed ;
Praise him, without whose heavenly aid

That infant, whose advancing hour
Ye langujsh, faint, and die.

Life's various sorrows try Ye birds, exalt your Maker's name;

(Sad proof of fin's transmislive pow'r!), Begin, and with th' important theme

That infant, Lord, am I. Your artless lays improve;

A childhood yet my thoughts confess, Wake with your songs the rising day,

Though long in years mature; Let music sound on ev'ry spray,

Unknowing whence I feel distress, And fill the vocal grove.

And where, or what, its cure.
Praise him, ye beasts, that nightly roam Author of good! to thee I turn :
Amid the solitary gloom,

Thy ever-wakeful eye
Th’expected prey to seize;

Alone can all my wants discern ;
Ye slaves of the laborious plough,

Thy hand alone supply. Your ftubborn necks submissive bow,

Olet thy fcar within me dwell, And bend your wearied knees.

Thy love my footsteps guide ; Ye sons of men, his praisc display,

That love shalí vainer loves expel ;
Who stampt his image on your clay,

That fear all fears beside.
And gave it pow'r to move;
Ye that in Judah's confines dwell,

And, oh! by error's force subdued,
From age to age succeflive tell

Sincc oft my stubborn will The wonders of his love.

Prepoft’rous thuns the latent good,

And grasps the specious ill;
Let Levi's tribe the lay prolong,
Till angels listen to the song,

Not to my wish, but to my want,
And bend attentive down;

Do thou thy gifts apply : Let wonder seize the heavenly train,

Unalk'd, what good thou knoweft grant ;
Pleas'd while they hear a mortal strain

What ill, tho' ask'd, deny.
So sweet, so like their own.
And you your thankful voices join,

$ 100. The Trials of Virtue. MERRICK. That oft at Salem's facrcd thrine Before his altars kneel;

PLACD on the verge of youth, my mind Where thron’d in majesty he dwells,

Life's op'ning scene survey'd : And from the mystic cloud reveals

I view'd its ills of various kind, The dictates of his will.

Afflicted and afraid. Ye spirits of the just and good,

But chicf my fear the dangers mov'd, That, eager for the bless'd abode,

That virtue's path inclose: To heavenly manfions foar;

My heart the wise pursuit approv'd; O let your songs his praise display,

But, oh, what toils oppose ! Till heaven itielf shall melt away,

For see! ah fee! while yet her ways And time shall be no more!

With doubtful step I tread,
Praise him, ye meek and humble train, A hostile world its terrors raisc,
Ye faints, whom his decrees ordain

Its snares delusive {pread.
F

Oh
.

Oh how shall I, with heart prepar’d,

• Tho'griefs unnumber'd throng thee round, Thore terrors learn to meet?

• Still in thy God contide, How from the thousand snares to guard • Whofc finger marks the feas their bound, My unexperienc'd feet ?

* And curbs the headlong tide.' As thus I mus’d, oppressive sleep

Soft o'er my temples drew Oblivion's veil.-The wat'ry deep,

$ 105. Chrifi's Paffion: from a Greek Ode of Mi An object strange and new,

MA>TER'S, formerly of Now College. Pites Before me rose : on the wide shore

N° more of carthly subjects fing; Observant as I stood,

To heaven, my mule, aspire; The gathering storms around me roar,

To raise the fong, charge ev'ry string, And heave the boiling flood.

And stiike the living lyre.

Begin, in lofty numhers show Near and more near the billows rise;

Th'Eternal King's unfathom'd love, E’en now my steps they lave;

Who reigns the Sov'reign God above, And death to my attrighted eyes

And surfers on the crois below. Approach'd in ev'ry wave.

Prodigious pile of wonders ! rais'd too high What hope, or whither to retreat!

For the dim ken of frail mortality. Each nerve at once unstrung,

What numbers shall I bring along? Chill fear had fetter'd fast my feet,

From whence thall I begin the fong! And chain'd my speechless tongue.

The mighty mystery I'll fing, intpird I feel my heart within me dic;

Beyond the reach of human wisdom wrough When sudden to mine car

Beyond the compafs of an angel's thought, A voice, descending from on high,

How by the rage of man his God expir'd. Reprov'd my erring fear :

T'll make the tracklets depths of mercy knows What tho’ the swelling lurge thou sve

How to redeem his foc God render'd up his Sons • Impatient to devour;

T'll raite my voice to tell mankind • Rest, mortal, rest on God's decrec,

The victor's conqueft o'er his doom ; • And thankful own his pow'r.

How in the grave he lay contin'd,

To leal moic sure the rav'nous tomb. Know, when he bade the dcep appcar, Three days, thi' infernal empire to subdue, “ Thus far," th' Almighty said,

He país'd triumphant through the coasts of woes “ Thus far, nor farther, ragc; and here

With his own dart the tyrant Death he llew, “ Let thy proud waves be stay'd.”

And led Hell captive through her realms below I hcard; and, lo ! at oncc controul'd,

A mingled found from Calvary I hcar, The waves, in wild retreat,

And the loud tumult thickens on my car, Back on themselves reluctant rollid,

The shouts of murd'rers that infult tle flain, And murmuring left

The voice of torment, and the thieks of pain, Deeps to assembling dceps in vain

I cast my eyes with horror up Once more the lignal gave :

To the curit mountain's guilty top; The shores the ruthing weight sustain,

See there! whom hanging in the midfi I view! And check th' ufurping wave.

Ah! how unlike the other two!

I see him high above his foes,
Convinc'd, in Nature's volume wise,

And gently bending from the wood
The imag'd truth I read;
And sudden from my waking eyes

His head in pity down to those,

Whose guilt confpiies to shed his blood. Th’inftrućtive vision fcd.

His wide-extended arms I lee • Then why thus heavy, O my foul !

Transfix'd with nails, and faften’d to the tree • Say why, distrustful still,

Man, fentelers man! canst thou look on, Thy thoughts with vain impatience roll Nor make thy Saviour's pains thy own! «O'er scenes of future ill ?

The
rage

of all thy grief exert, Let faith suppress each rising fear,

Rend thy garments and thy heart: • Each anxious doubt excludc;

Beat thy breast, and grovel low, " Thy Maker's will has plac'd thee here,

Beneath the burden of thy woe ; A Maker wise and good!

Bleed through thy bowels, tear thy hairs,

Breathe gales of sighs, and weep a flood of tears He to thy cv'ry trial knows

Behold thy King, with purple cover'd round, Its jutt rcftraint to give;

Not in the Tyrian tinctures dycd, Attenti.e to bchold thy wocs,

Nor dipt in poison of Sidonian pride; (wound. • Aud faitful to relieve.

Lut in his own rich blood that streams from every 'Then why thus heavy, O my soul !

Doft thou not see the thorny circle red? Say why, distrusfui ftill,

The guilty wreath that blushes round his hcad ! Tlvilionglies with vain impatience rell And with what rage the bloody fcourge applied * O'er ieces of future iH:

Curis round his limbs, and plougiis into his side!

Ac

my

fect.

6