One general fong! To him, ye vocal gales,
Breathefoft, whofe fpirit in your freshnefsbreathes:
Oh talk of him in folitary gloons,
Where o'er the rock the fcarcely waving pine
Fills the brown fhade with a religious awe!
And ye, whofe bolder note is heard afar,
Who shake th'aftonish'd world, lift high to heav'n
Th'impetuous fong, and fay from whom you rage.
His praife, ye brooks, attune, ye trembling rills;
And let me catch it as I mufe along.
Ye headlong torrents, rapid and profound;
Ye fofter floods, that lead the humid maze
Along the vale; and thou majestic main,
A fecret world of wonders in thyself,
Sound his ftupendous praife, whose greater voice
Or bids you roar, or bids your roaring fall.
Soroll your incenfe, herbs, and fruits, and flowers,
In mingled clouds to Him, whofe fun exalts,
Whose breath perfumes you, and whofe pencil
paints.

Ye forefts band, ye harvests wave, to Him;
Breathe your still song into the reaper's heart,
As home he goes beneath the joyous moon.
Ye that keep watch in heav'n, as earth afleep
Unconscious lies, effuse your mildest beams,
Ye conftellations, while your angels strike,
Amid the fpangled fky, the filver lyre.
Great fource of day! bleft image here below
Of thy Creator, ever pouring wide,
From world to world, the vital ocean round,
On nature write with every beam his praife.
The thunder rolls: he hufh'd the proftrate world;
While cloud, to cloud returns the folemn hymu.
Bleat out afresh, ye hills; ye moffy rocks,
Retain the found: the broad refponfive lowe,
Ye vallies, raife; for the Great Shepherd reigns;
And his unfuffering kingdom yet will come.
Ye woodlands all awake: a boundless fong
Burst from the groves! and when the reftlefs day,
Expiring, lays the warbling world afleep,
Sweeteft of birds! fweet Philomela, charm
The liftening fhades, and teach the night his praife.
Ye chief for whom the whole creation fimiles;
At once the head, the heart, the tongue of all,
Crown the great hymn! in fwarming cities vaft,
Affembled men to the deep organ join
The long-refounding voice, oft breaking clear,
At folemn pauses, thro' the fwelling base;
And, as each mingling flame encreases each,
In one united ardor rife to heav'n.
Or if you rather chufe the rural fhade,
And find a fane in every facred grove;
There let the shepherd's flute, the virgin's lay,
The prompting feraph, and the poet's lyre,
Still fing the God of Seafons as they roll.
For me, when I forget the darling theme,
Whether the bloffom blows; the Summer ray
Ruffets the plain; inspiring Autumn gleams;
Or Winter rifes in the blackening east;
Be my tongue mute, my fancy paint no more,
And dead to joy, forget my heart to beat.

Should fate command me to the fartheft verge Of the green earth, to distant barbarous climes, Rivers unknown to fong; where firft the fun Gilds Indian mountains, or his setting beam Flames on th' Atlantic ifles, 'tis nought to me: Since God is ever prefent, ever felt, In the void wafte as in the city full; And where He vital fpreads, there must be joy. When even at last the folemn hour shall come, And wing my myftic flight to future worlds, I cheerful will obey; there with new powers, Will rifing wonders fing: I cannot go Where univerfal love not fmiles around, Sustaining all yon orbs, and all their funs: From feeming evil ftill educing good, And better thence again, and better still, In infinite progreffion.-But I lofe Myself in Him, in light ineffable! Come then, expreffive filence, mufe his praise.

$31. Hymn for Morning. PARNELL.
SEE the ftar that leads the day,
Rifing, fhoots a golden ray

To make the fhades of darkness go
From heaven above and earth below;
And warn us early with the fight,
To leave the beds of filent night;
From an heart fincere and found,
From its very deepest ground;
Send devotion up on high,
Wing'd with flame to reach the fky.
See the time for fleep has run,
Rife before, or with the fun:
Lift thy hands, and humbly pray,
The Fountain of eternal day;
That, as the light ferenely fair,
Illuftrates all the tracts of air,
The Sacred Spirit so may rest,
With quickening beams, upon thy breaft;
And kindly clean it all within
From darker blemishes of fin;
And shine with grace until we view
The realm it gilds with glory too.
See the day that dawns in air,
Brings along its toil and care:
From the lap of night it fprings,
With heaps of bus'nefs on its wings;
Prepare to meet them in a mind,
That bows fubmiffively refign'd;
That would to works appointed fall,
That knows that God has order'd all.
And whether, with a small repast,
We break the fober morning faft;
Or in our thoughts and houses lay
The future methods of the day;
Or early walk abroad to meet
Our business, with industrious feet:
Whate'er we think, whate'er we do,
His glory ftill be kept in view.
O, Giver of eternal blifs,
Heavenly Father, grant me this :

Grant

Grant it all, as well as me,

All whofe hearts are fix'd on thee;
Who revere thy Son above,
Who thy Sacred Spirit love.

$32. Hymn for Noon. PARNELL. THE fun is swiftly mounted high,

It glitters in the fouthern fky;
Its beams with force and glory beat,
And fruitful earth is fill'd with heat.
Father, alfo with thy fire

Warm the cold, the dead defire,
And make the facred love of thee,
Within my foul, a fun to me.
Let it fhine fo fairly bright,
That nothing elfe be took for light;
That worldly charms be feen to fade,
And in its luftre find a fhade.
Let it strongly shine within,
To scatter all the clouds of fin
That drive, when gufts of paffion rife,
And intercept it from our eyes.
Let its glory more than vie
With the fun that lights the sky:
Let it fwiftly mount in air,
Mount with that, and leave it there;
And foar with more afpiring flight,
To realms of everlafting light.
Thus, while here I'm forc'd to be,
I daily wish to live with thee;
And feel that union which thy love
Will, after death, complete above.
From my foul I fend my prayer,
Great Creator, bow thine ear;
Thou, for whofe propitious fway
The world was taught to see the day;
Who spoke the word, and earth begun,
And fhew'd its beauties in the fun;
With pleasure I thy creatures view,
And would, with good affection too;
Good affection fweetly free,
Loofe from them, and move to thee;
O, teach ine due returns to give,
And to thy glory let me live;
And then my days fhall fhine the more,
Or pafs more blessed than before.

$33. Hymn for Evening. PARNELL. THE beam-repelling mifts arife,

And evening fpreads obfcurer fkies:
The twilight will the night forerun,
And night itself be foon begun.
Upon thy knees devoutly bow,
And pray the Lord of glory, now
To fill thy breaft, or deadly fin
May caufe a blinder night within.
And whether pleafing vapours rife,
Which greatly dim the clofing eyes;
Which makes the weary members bleft,
With fweet refreshment in their reft;
Or whether fpirits in the brain
Difpel their foft embrace again;

And on my watchful bed I stay,
Forfook by fleep, and waiting day;
Be God for ever in my view,
And never he forfake me too;
But ftill as day concludes in night,
To break again with new-born light,
His wondrous bounty let me find,
With ftill a more enlighten'd mind;
When and love in one agree;
grace

Grace from God, and love from me;
Grace that will from heaven infpire;
Love that feals it in defire:
Grace and love that mingle beams,
And fill me with increasing flames.
Thou that haft thy palace far
Above the moon and every star;
Thou that fitteft on a throne

To which the night was never known,
Regard my voice and make me blest,
By kindly granting its request.
If thoughts on thee my foul employ,
My darkness will afford me joy
Till thou shalt call, and I fhall foar,
And part with darkness evermore.

$34. The Soul in Sorrow. PARNELL.
WITH kind compaffion hear my cry,
O, Jefu, Lord of Life, on high !
As when the fummer's feafons beat
With fcorching flame and parching heat,
The trees are burnt, the flowers fade,
And thirfty gaps in earth are made;
My thoughts of comfort languifh fo,
And fo my foul is broke by woe.
Then on thy fervant's drooping head
Thy dews of bleffing fweetly fhed;
Let thofe a quick refreshment give,
And raise my mind, and bid me live.
My fears of danger, while I breathe,
My dread of endless hell beneath :
My fenfe of forrow for my fin,
To fpringing comfort, change within ;
Change all my fad complaints for ease,
To cheerful notes of endless praife;
Nor let a tear mine eyes employ,
But fuch as owe their birth to joy:
Joy tranfporting, fweet and ftrong,
Fit to fill and raise my song;
Joy that fhall refounded be,
While days and nights fucceed for me,
Be not as a Judge fevere;

For fo thy prefence who may bear?
On all my words and actions look
(I know they're written in thy book);
But then regard my mournful cry,
And look with mercy's gracious eye;
What needs my blood, fince thine will do,
Το pay the debt to Juftice due?

O, tender mercy's art divine!

Thy forrow proves the cure of mine!

Thy dropping wounds, thy woeful fmart,
Allay the bleedings of my heart:
Thy death, in death's extreme of pain,
Reftores my foul to life again.

Guide me then, for here I burn,
To make my Saviour fome return.
I'll rife (if that will please him, ftill;
And fure I've heard him own it will);
I'll trace his fteps, and bear my cross,
Defpifing every grief and lofs,
Since he, defpifing pain and thaine,
First took up his, and did the fame.

$35.
The Happy Man. PARNELL.
HOW blefs'd the man, how fully fo,
As far as man is blefs'd below,
Who, taking up his crofs, effays
To follow Jefus all his days;
With refolution to obey,
And fteps enlarging in his way!
The Father of the faints above
Adopts him with a father's love,
And makes his bofom throughly fhine
With wondrous ftores of grace divine;
Sweet grace divine, the pledge of joy,
That will his foul above employ;
Full joy, that, when his time is done,
Becomes his portion as a fon.
Ah me! the fweet infus'd defires,
The fervid wishes, holy fires,
Which thus a melted heart refine,
Such are his, and fuch be mine.
From hence defpifing all befides
That earth reveals, or ocean hides;
All that men in either prize,
On God alone he fets his eyes.
From hence his hope is on the wings,
His health renews, his fafety fprings,
His glory blazes up below,

And all the ftreams of comfort flow.
He calls his Saviour King above,
Lord of mercy, Lord of love;
And finds a kingly care defend,
And mercy fmile, and love defcend,
To cheer, to guide him in the ways
Of this vain world's deceitful maze:
And though the wicked earth difplay
Its terrors in their fierce array;
Or gape fo wide that horror fhows
Its hell replete with endless woes;
Such fuccour keeps him clear of ill.
Still firm to good, and dauntless fill.
So, fix'd by Providence's hands,
A rock amidst an ocean ftands;
So bears without a trembling dread,
The tempeft beating round its head
And with its fide repels the wave,
Whofe hollow feems a coming grave:
The skies, the deeps, are heard to roar;
The rock ftands fettled as before.

I, all with whom he has to do,
Admire the life which bleffes you;
That feeds a foe, that aids a friend,
Without a bye designing end;
Its knowing real intereft lies
On the bright fide of yonder skies,
Where, having made a title fair,

;

It mounts, and leaves the world to care.

While he that fecks for pleafing days
In earthly joys and evil ways,
Is but the fool of toil or fame
(Though happy be the specious name)
And made by wealth, which makes him great,
A more confpicuous wretch of ftate.

$36. The Way to Happiness. PARNELL. HOW long, ye miferable blind,

Shall idle dreams engage your mind;
How long the paffions make their flight
At empty fhadows of delight!
No more in paths of error stray,
The Lord thy Jefus is the way,
The fpring of happinefs; and where
Should men feck happiness but there ?
Then run to meet him at your need,
Run with boldness, run with speed,
For he forfook his own abode

To meet thee more than half the road.
He laid afide his radiant crown,
And love for mankind brought him down
To thirst and hunger, pain and woe,
To wounds, to death itfelf below;
And he, that fuffer'd thefe alone
For all the world, defpifes none.
To bid the foul that's fick, be clean;
To bring the loft to life again;
To comfort thofe that grieve for ill,
Is his peculiar goodness still.
And, as the thoughts of parents run
Upon a dear and only fon,
So kind a love his mercies fhow,
So kind and more extremely fo.
Thrice happy men; (or find a phrase
That fpeaks your blifs with greater praise)
Who most obedient to thy call,
Leaving pleasures, leaving all,

With heart, with foul, with ftrength incline,
O sweetest Jefu! to be thine.
Who know thy will, obferve thy ways,
And in thy fervice spend their days:
Ev'n death, that feems to fet them free,
But brings them clofer ftill to thee.

$37. The Convert's Love. PARNELL. BLESSED light of faints on high,

Who fill the manfions of the sky;
Sure defence, whofe mercy ftill
Preferves thy fubjects here from ill;
Oh, my Jefus make me know
How to pay the thanks I owe!

As the fond fheep that idly ftrays,
With wanton play, through winding ways,
Which never hits the road of home,
O'er wilds of danger learns to roam,
Till, wearied out with idle fear,
And pafling there, and turning here,
He will, for reft, to covert run,
And meet the wolf he wifh'd to fhun:
Thus wretched I, through wanton will,
Run blind and headlong on in iil:
'Twas thus from fin to fin I flew,
And thus I might have perif'd too;

с

But

But mercy dropt the likeness here,
And fhew'd and fav'd me from my fear.
While o'er the darkness of my mind
The facred fpirit purely fhin'd,
And mark'd and brighten'd all the way
Which leads to everlasting day;
And broke the thickening clouds of fin,
And fix'd the light of love within.
Froin hence my ravish'd foul afpires,
And dates the rife of its defires:
From hence to thee, my God! I turn,
And fervent withes fay I burn;
I burn thy glorious face to fee,
And live in endless joy with thee,
There's no fuch ardent kind of flame
Between the lover and the dame;
Nor fuch affection parents bear
To their young and only heir;
Though join'd together, both confpire,
And boaft a doubled force of fire.
My tender heart, within its feat,
Diffolves before the fcorching heat;
As foftening wax is taught to run
Before the warmnefs of the fun.

Oh, my flame, my pleasing pain,
Burn and purify my ftain;
Warm me, burn me, day by day,
Till you purge my earth away;
Till at the laft I throughly fhine,
And turn a torch of love divine.

$38. A Defire to Praife. PARNELL.
PROPITIOUS Son of God, to thee,
With all my foul, I bend my knee;
My wish I fend, my want impart,
And dedicate my mind and heart;
For as an abfent parent's fon,
Whofe fecond year is only run,
When no protecting friend is near,
Void of wit and void of fear,

With things that hurt him fondly plays,
Or here he fails, or there he ftrays;
So, fhould my foul's eternal guide,
The facred fpirit, be deny'd,
Thy-fervant foon the lofs would know,
And fink in fin, or run to woe.
O, fpirit bountifully kind,
Warm, poffefs, and fill my mind;
Difperfe my fins with light divine,
And raife the flames of love with thine;
Before thy pleasures rightly priz'd,
Let wealth and honor be defpis'd;
And let the Father's glory be
More dear than hfe itself to me,
Sing of Jefus Virgins fing
Him, your everlafting King
Sing of Jefus cheerful youth,"
Him, the God of love and truth
Write, and raise a fong divine,
Or come and hear, and borrow-mine,
Son Eternal, word fupreme,
Who made the univerfal frame,-
Heaven, and all its fhining show,
Earth, and all it holds below;

Bow with mercy, bow thine ear,
While we fing thy praifes here;
Son Eternal, ever-bleft,
Refting on the Father's breaft,
Whofe tender love for all provides,
Whose power over all prefides;
Bow with pity, bow thine ear,
While we fing thy praises here!

Thou, by pity's foft extreme, Mov'd, and won, and fet on flame, Affum'd the form of man, and fell In pains, to rescue man from hell; How bright thine humble glories rife, And match the luftre of the fkies, From death and hell's dejected fstate Arifing, thou refum'd thy feat; And golden thrones of bliís prepar❜ð Above, to be thy famts reward!

How bright thy glorious honers rife, And with new luftre grace the fkies! For thee, the fweet feraphic choir Raife the voice and tune the lyre; And praifes with harmonious found Through all the highest heaven rebound,

O make our notes with theirs agree, And blefs the fouls that fing of thee ! To thee the churches here rejoice, The folemn organs aid the voice; To facred roofs the found we raife,' The facred roofs refound thy praife And while our notes in one agree, O! blefs the church that fings to thee!

339. On Happiness in this Life. PARNELL THE morning opens, very freflily gay,

And life itfelf is in the month of May. With green my fancy paints an arbour o❜er, And flow'rets, with a thoufand colours more; Then falls to weaving that, and spreading thefe, And foftly thakes them with an easy breeze, With golden fruit adorns the bending fhade, Or trails a silver water o'er its bed. Glide, gentle water, ftill more gently by, While in this fummer-bower of blifs I lye, And fweetly fmg of fenfe-delighting flames, And nymphs and thepherds, foft invented names; Or view the branches which around me twine, And praife their fruit, diffufing sprightly wine; Or find new pleafures in the world to praife, And still with this return adorn my lays; "Range round your gardens of eternal fpring, Go, range my fenfes, while I fweetly fing:" In vain, in vain, alas! feduc'd by ill, And afted wildly by the force of will! I tell my foul, it will be conftant May, And charm a fexfon never made to ftay; My beauteous arbour will not stand a storm; The world but promises, and can't perform: Then fade, ye leaves; and wither, all ye flowers; I'll doat no longer in enchanted bowers; But fadly mourn, in melancholy fong, The vain concerts that held my foul fo long; The lufts that tempt us with delusive show; And fin, brought forth for everlafting woe

66

Thus