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His wondrous power extends around

The circuit of the ball.

For he within the gloomy deeps

Its dark foundations cast,

And rear'd the pillars of the Earth
Amid the watery waste.

Who shall ascend his Sion's hill,

And see Jehovah there?

Who from his sacred shrine shall breathe The sacrifice of prayer?

He only whose unsully'd soul

Fair virtue's paths has trod,

Who with clean hands and heart regards
His neighbour and his God.

On him shall his indulgent Lord
Diffusive bounties shed,

From God his Saviour shall descend
All blessings on his head.

Of those who seek his righteous ways,
Is this the chosen race,

Who bask in all his bounteous smiles,
And flourish in his grace.

Lift up your stately heads, ye doors,
With hasty reverence rise;

Ye everlasting doors, who guard
The passes of the skies.

Swift from your golden hinges leap,
Your barriers roll away,

Now throw your blazing portals wide,
And burst the gates of day.

For see the King of Glory comes
Along th' ethereal road:

The cherubs through your folds shall bear
The triumph of your God.

Who is this great and glorious King?
Oh! 'tis the Lord, whose might
Decides the conquest, and suspends
The balance of the fight.

Lift up your stately heads, ye doors,
With hasty reverence rise;
Ye everlasting doors, who guard
The passes of the skies.

Swift from your golden hinges leap,
Your barriers roll away;

Now throw your blazing portals wide,
And burst the gates of day.

For see; the King of glory comes
Along th' ethereal road;

The cherubs through your folds shall bear
The triumphs of their God.

Who is this great and glorious King?
Oh! 'tis the God, whose care
Leads on his Israel to the field,
Whose power controls the war.

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Shook by that voice, the nodding groves around Start from their roots, and fly the dreadful sound. The blasted cedars low in dust are laid,

And Lebanon is left without a shade.

See! when he speaks, the lofty mountains crowd,
And fly for shelter from the thundering God:
Sirion and Lebanon like hinds advance,
And in wild measures lead th' unwieldy dance.
His voice, his mighty voice, divides the fire,
Back from the blast the shrinking flames retire.
Ev'n Cades trembles when Jehovah speaks,
With all his savages the desert shakes,

At the dread sound the hinds with fear are stung,
And in the lonely forest drop their young.
While in his hallow'd temple all proclaim
His glorious honours, and adore his name,
High o'er the foaming surges of the sea
He sits, and bids the listening decps obey:
He reigns o'er all; for ever lasts his power
Till Nature sinks, and time shall be no more.
With strength the sons of Israel shall he bless,
And crown our tribes, with happiness and peace.

PSALM XLVI.

PARAPHRASED.

ON God we build our sure defence,
In God our hope repose:
His hand protects us in the fight,
And guards us from our woes.

Then, be the Earth's unwieldy frame
From its foundations hurl'd,

We may, unmov'd with fear, enjoy
The ruins of the world.

What though the solid rocks be rent,
In tempests whirl'd away?

What though the hills should burst their roots,
And roll into the sea?

Thou sea, with dreadful tumults swell,
And bid thy waters rise

In furious surges, till they dash
The flood-gates of the skies.

Our minds shall be serene and calm,
Like Siloah's peaceful flood;
Whose soft and silver streams refresh
The city of our God.

Within the proud delighted waves,

The wanton turrets play;

The streams lead down their humid trai,
Reluctant to the sea.

Amid the scene the temple floats,

With its reflected towers,
Gilds all the surface of the flood,

And dances to the shores.

With wonder see what mighty power

Our sacred Sion cheers,

Lo! there amidst her stately walls,

Her God, her God appears.

Fixt on her basis she shall stand,

And, innocently proud,
Smile on the tumults of the world,
Beneath the wings of God.

See! how, their weakness to proclaim, The heathen tribes engage!

See how with fruitless wrath they burn,
And impotence of rage!

But God has spoke; and lo! the world,
His terrours to display,
With all the melting globe of Earth,
Drops silently away.

Still to the mighty Lord of hosts
Securely we resort;

For refuge fly to Jacob's God,

Our succour and support.

Hither, ye numerous nations, crowd,
In silent rapture stand,

And see o'er all the Earth display'd
The wonders of his hand.

He bids the din of war be still,

And all its tumults cease;

He bids the guiltless trumpet sound
The harmony of peace.

He breaks the tough reluctant bow,
He bursts the brazen spear,
And in the crackling fire his hand
Consumes the blazing car.
Hear then his formidable voice,
"Be still, and know the Lord;
By all the heathen I'll be fear'd;
By all the Earth ador'd.”

Still to the mighty Lord of hosts,
Securely we resort;

For refuge fly to Jacob's God;
Our succour and support.

PSALM XC.

PARAPHRASED.

THY hand, O Lord, through rolling years

Has sav'd us from despair,

From period down to period stretch'd

The prospects of thy care.

Before the world was first conceiv'd,

Before the pregnant Earth,

Call'd forth the mountains from her womb,
Who struggled to their birth;

Eternal God! thy early days
Beyond duration run,
Ere the first race of starting time
Was measur'd by the Sun.
We die; but future nations hear
Thy potent voice again,
Rise at the summons, and restore
The perish'd race of man;

Before thy comprehensive sight,
Duration fleets away;

And rapid ages on the wing,

Fly swifter than a day.

As great Jehovah's piercing eyes
Eternity explore,

The longest era is a night,

A period is an hour.

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We at thy mighty call, O Lord,

Our fancy'd beings leave,
Rouz'd from the flattering dream of life,
To sleep within the grave.

Swift from their barrier to their goal
The rapid moments pass,

And leave poor man, for whom they run,
The emblem of the grass.

In the first morn of life it grows,
And lifts its verdant head,
At noon decays, at evening dies,
And withers in the mead.

We in the glories of thy face
Our secret sins survey,
And see how gloomy those appear,
How pure and radiant they.
To death, as our appointed goal,
Thy anger drives us on,

To that full period fix'd at length
This tale of life is done.

With winged speed, to stated bounds
And limits we must fly,
While seventy rolling suns compleat
Their circles in the sky.

Or if ten more around us roll,

'Tis labour, woe, and strife, Till we at length are quite drawn down To the last dregs of life.

But who, O Lord, regards thy wrath,
Though dreadful and severe ?
That wrath, whatever fear he feels,
Is equal to his fear.

So teach us, Lord, to count our days,
And eye their constant race,
To measure what we want in time,
By wisdom, and by grace.

With us repent, and on our hearts

Thy choicest graces shed,

And shower from thy celestial throne
Thy blessings on our head.

Oh! may thy mercy crown us here,

And come without delay;

Then our whole course of life will seem
One glad triumphant day.

Now the blest years of joy restore,
For those of grief and strife,
And with one pleasant drop allay
This bitter draught of life.

Thy wonders to the world display,
Thy servants to adorn,
That may delight their future sons,
And children yet unborn;

Thy beams of majesty diffuse,
With them thy great commands,
And bid prosperity attend

The labours of our hands.

PSALM CXXXIX.

PARAPHRASED, IN MILTONIC VERSE.

O dread Jehovah! thy all-piercing eyes Explore the motions of this mortal frame,

This tenement of dust: thy stretching sight
Surveys th' harmonious principles, that move
In beauteous rank and order, to inform
This cask, and animated mass of clay.
Nor are the prospects of thy wondrous sight
To this terrestrial part of man coufin'd ;
But shoot into his soul, and there discern
The first materials of unfashion'd thought,
Yet dim and undigested, till the mind,
Big with the tender images, expands,
And, swelling, labours with th' ideal birth.

Where-e'er I move, thy cares pursue my feet
Attendant. When I drink the dews of sleep,
Stretch'd on my downy bed, and there enjoy
A sweet forgetfulness of all my toils,
Unseen, thy sovereign presence guards my sleep,
Wafts all the terrours of my dreams away,
Sooths all iny soul, and softens my repose.

Before conception can employ the tongue,
And mould the ductile images to sound;
Before imagination stands display'd,
Thine eye the future eloquence can read,
Yet unarray'd with speech. Thou, mighty Lord!
Hast moulded man from his congenial dust,
And spoke him into being; while the clay,
Beneath thy forming hand, leap'd forth, inspir'd,
And started into life: through every part,
At thy command, the wheels of motion play'd.
But such exalted knowledge leaves below
And drops poor man from its superior sphere.
In vain, with reason's ballast, would he try
To stem th' unfathomable depth; his bark
O'er-sets, and founders in the vast abyss.

Then whither shall the rapid fancy run,
Though in its full career, to speed my flight
From thy unbounded presence? which, alone,
Fills all the regions and extended space
Beyond the bounds of nature! Whither, Lord!
Shall my unrein'd imagination rove,
To leave behind thy spirit, and out-fly

Its influence, which, with brooding wings, out-spread
Hatch'd unfledg'd Nature from the dark profound.

If mounted on my towering thoughts I climb
Into the Heaven of Heavens; I there behold
The blaze of thy unclouded majesty !
In the pure empyrean thee I view,

High thron'd above all height, thy radiant shrine,
Throng'd with the prostrate seraphs, who receive
Beatitude past utterance! If I plunge
Down to the gloom of Tartarus profound,
There too I find thee, in the lowest bounds
Of Erebus, and read thee, in the scenes

Of complicated wrath: I see thee clad
In all the majesty of darkness there.

If, on the ruddy morning's purple wings
Up-born, with indefatigable course,
I seek the glowing borders of the East,
Where the bright Sun, emergent from the deeps,
With his first glories gilds the sparkling seas,
And trembles o'er the waves; ev'n there, thy hand
Shall through the watery desert guide my course,
And o'er the broken surges pave my way,
While on the dreadful whirles I hang secure,
And mock the warring Ocean. If, with hopes,
As fond as false, the darkness I expect
To hide, and wrap me in its mantling shade,
Vain were the thought: for thy unbounded ken
Darts through the thickening gloom, and pries
through all

VOL XII.

Before thy eyes,

The palpable obscure.
The vanquish'd night throws off her dusky shrowd,
And kindles into day: the shade, and light,
To man still various, but the saine to thee.

On thee, is all the structure of my frame
Dependant. Lock'd within the silent womb,
Sleeping I lay, and ripening to my birth;
Yet, Lord, thy out-stretch'd arm preserv'd me
Before I mov'd to entity, and trod [there;
The verge of being. To thy hallow'd name
I'll pay due honours; for thy mighty hand
Built this corporeal fabric, when it laid
The ground-work of existence. Hence, I read
The wonders of thy art This frame I view
With terrour and delight; and wrapt in both,
I startle at myself. My bones, unformı'd
As yet, nor hardening from the viscous parts,
But blended with th' unanimated mass,
Thy eye distinctly view'd; and while I loy
Within the earth, imperfect, nor perceiv'd
The first faint dawn of life, with ease survey'd
The vital glimmerings of the active seeds,
Just kindling to existence; and beheld
My substance scarce material. In thy book,
Was the fair model of this structure drawn,
Where every part, in just connection join'd,
Compos'd and perfected th' harmonious piece,
Ere the dim speck of being learn'd to stretch
Its ductile form, or entity had known
To range and wanton in an ampler space.

How dear, how rooted in my inmost soul,
Are all thy counsels, and the various ways
Of thy eternal providence! The sum
So boundless and immense, it leaves behind
The low account of numbers! and out-flies
All that imagination e're conceiv'd,

Less numerous are the sands that crowd the shores,
The barriers of the Ocean. When I rise
From my soft bed, and softer joys of sleep,
I rise to thee. Yet lo! the impious slight
Thy mighty wonders. Shall the sons of vice
Elude the vengeance of thy wrathful hand
And mock thy lingering thunder, which with-holds
Its forky terrours from their guilty heads?
Thou great tremendous God!-Avaunt, and fly,
All ye who thirst for blood.-For, swoln with pride,
Each haughty wretch blasphemes thy sacred name,
And bellows his reproaches to affront
Thy glorious Majesty. Thy foes I hate
Worse than my own, O Lord! Explore my soul,
See if a flaw or stain of sin infects

My guilty thoughts. Then, lead me in the way
That guides my feet to thy own Heaven and thee.

PSALM CXLIV.

PARAPHRASED.

My soul, in raptures rise to bless the Lord,
Who taught my hands to draw the fatal sword,
Led by his arm, undaunted I appear

In the first ranks of death, and front of war.
He taught me first the pointed spear to wield,
And now the glorious harvest of the field.
By him inspir'd, from strength to strength I past,
Plung'd through the troops, and laid the battle

In him my hopes I centre and repose, [waste. He guards my life, and shields me from my foes.

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He held his ample buckler o'er my head,
And screen'd me trembling in the mighty shade:
Against all hostile violence and power,
He was my sword, my bulwark, and my tower.
He o'er my people will maintain my sway,
And teach my willing subjects to obey.

Lord! what is man, of vile and humble birth,
Sprung with this kindred reptiles from the earth,
That he should thus thy secret counsels share?
Or what his son, who challenges thy care?
Why does thine eye regard this nothing, man?
His life a point, his measure but a span?
The fancy'd pageant of a moment made,
Swift as a dream, and fleeting as a shade.
Come in thy power, and leave th' ethereal plain,
And to thy harness'd tempest give the rein;
Yon starry arch shall bend beneath the load,
So loud the chariot, and so great the God!
Soon as his rapid wheels Jehovah rolls,
The folding skies shall tremble to the poles:
Heaven's gaudy axle with the world shall fall,
Leap from the centre, and unhinge the ball.
Touch'd by thy hands, the labouring hills expire
Thick clouds of smoke, and deluges of fire;
On the tall groves the red destroyer preys,
And wraps th' eternal mountains in the blaze:
Full on my foes may all thy lightnings fly,
On purple pinions through the gloomy sky.

Extend thy hand, thou kind all-gracious God,
Down from the Heaven of Heavens thy bright abode,
And shield me from my foes, whose towering pride
Lowers like a storm, and gathers like a tide:
Against strange children vindicate, my cause,
Who curse thy name, and trample on thy laws;
Who fear not vengeance which they never felt,
Train'd to blaspheme, and eloquent in guilt:
Their hands are impious, and their deeds profane,
They plead their boasted innocence in vain.

Thy name shall dwell for ever on my tongue,
And guide the sacred numbers of my song;
To thee my Muse shall consecrate her lays,
And every note shall labour in thy praise;
The hallow'd theme shall teach me how to sing,
Swell on the lyre, and tremble on the string.

Oft has thy hand from fight the monarch led,
When death flew raging, and the battle bled;
And snatch'd thy servant in the last despair
From all the rising tumult of the war.

Against strange children vindicate my cause,
Who curse thy name, and trample on thy laws;
That our fair sons may smile in early bloom,
Our sons, the hopes of all our years to come:
Like plants that nurs'd by fostering showers arise,
And lift their spreading honours to the skies.
That our chaste daughters may their charms dis-
play,

Like the bright pillars of our temple, gay,
Polish'd, and tall, and smooth, and fair as they.

Piled up with plenty let our barns appear,
And burst with all the seasons of the year;
Let pregnant flocks in every quarter bleat,
And drop their tender young in every street.
Safe from their labours may our oxen come,
Safe may they bring the gather'd summer home.
Oh! may no sighs, no streams of sorrow flow,
To stain our triumphs with the tears of woe,

Bless'd is the nation, how sincerely bless'd!
Of such unbounded happiness possess'd,
To whom Jehovah's sacred name is known,
Who claim the God of Israel for their own.

JOB, CHAP. III.

JOB curs'd his birth, and bade his curses flow
In words of grief, and eloquence of woe;
Lost be that day which dragg'd me to my doom,
Recent to life, and struggling from the womb;
Whose beams with such malignant lustre shone,
Whence all my years in anxious circles run.
Lost be that night in undetermin'd space,
And veil with deeper shades her gloomy face,
Which crowded up with woes this slender span,
While the dull mass rose quickening into man.

O'er that curs'd day let sable darkness rise,
Shrowd the blue vault, and blacken all the skies;
May God o'er-look it from his heavenly throne,
Nor rouse from sleep the sedentary Sun,
O'er its dark face to shed his genial ray,
And warm to joy the melancholy day.
May the clouds frown, and livid poisons breathe,
And stain heaven's azure with the shade of death.
May tenfold darkness from that dreadful night
Seize and arrest the straggling gleams of light;
To pay due vengeance for its fatal crime,
Still be it banish'd from the train of Time;
Nor in the radiant list of months appear,
To stain the shining circle of the year:
There through her dusky range may silence roam,
There may no ray, no glimpse of gladness come,
No voice to cheer the solitary gloom.
May every star his gaudy light with-hold,
Nor through the vapour shoot his beamy gold:
Nor let the dawn with radiant skirts come on,
Tipp'd with the glories of the rising Sun;
Because that dreadful period fix'd my doom,
Nor seal'd the dark recesses of the womb.
To that original my ills I owe,

Heir of affliction, and the son of woc.
Oh! had I dy'd unexercis'd in pain,
And wak'd to life, to sleep in death again!
Why did not Fate attend me at my birth,
And give me back to my congenial earth?
Why was I, when an infant, sooth'd to rest,
Lul'd on the knee, or hung upon the breast?
For now the grave would all my cares compose,
Conceal my sorrows, and inter my woes:
There wrapp'd and lock'd within his cold embrace,
Safe had I slumber'd in the arms of peace;
There with the mighty kings, who lie enroll'd
In clouds of incense, and in beds of gold:
There with the princes, who in grandeur shone,
And aw'd the trembling nations from the throne
Afflicted Job an equal rest might have,
And share the dark retirement of the grave;
Or as a shapeless embryo seek the tomb,
Rude and imperfect from the abortive womb :
Ere motion's early principle began,
Or the dim substance kindled into man.

There from their monstrous crimes the wicked `
cease,

Their labouring guilt is weary'd into peace;
There blended sleep the coward and the brave,
Stretch'd, with his lord, the undistinguish'd slave
Enjoys the common refuge of the grave.
An equal lot the mighty victor shares,
And lies amidst the captives of his wars;
With his, those captives mingle their remains,
The same in death, nor lessen'd by their chains.
Why are we doom'd to view the genial ray?
Why curst to hear the painful light of day?

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Oh! with what joy the wretches yield their breath,
And pant in bitterness of soul for death?
As a rich prize, the distant bliss they crave,
And find the glorious treasure in the grave.
Why is the wretch condemn'd without relief,
To combat woe, and tread the round of grief,
Whom in the toils of fate his God has bound,
And drawn the line of miseries around?

When nature calls for aid, my sighs intrude,
My tears prevent my necessary food;
Like a full stream o'ercharg'd, my sorrows flow,
In bursts of anguish, and a tide of woe;
For now the dire affliction which I fled,
Pours like a roaring torrent on my head.

My terrours still the phantom view'd, and wrought
The dreadful image into every thought:
At length pluck'd down, the fatal stroke I feel,
And lose the fancy'd in the real ill.

JOB, CHAP. XXV.

PARAPHRASED.

THEN will vain man complain and murmur still,
And stand on terms with his Creator's will?
Shall this high privilege to clay be given ?
Shall dust arraign the providence of Heaven?
With reason's line the boundless distance scan;
Oppose Heaven's awful Majesty to man.
To what a length his vast dominions run?
How far beyond the journeys of the Sun ?
He hung yon' golden balls of light on high,
And lanch'd the planets through the liquid sky:
To rolling worlds he mark'd the certain space,
Fixt and sustain'd the elemental peace.

Unnumber'd as those worlds his armies move,
And the gay legions guard his realms above;
High o'er th' ethereal plains, the myriads rise,
And pour their flaming ranks along the skies:
From their bright arms incessant splendours stream,
And the wide azure kindles with the gleam.

To this low world he bids the light repair, Down through the gulfs of undulating air: For man he taught the glorious Sun to roll, From his bright barrier to his western goal.

How then shall man, thus insolently proud, Plead with his Judge, and combat with his God? How from his mortal mother can he come, Unstain'd from sin, untinctur'd from the womb? The Lord from his sublime empyreal throne, As a dark globe, regards the silver Moon. Those stars, that grace the wide celestial plain, Are but the humblest sweepings of his train; Dim are the brightest splendours of the sky; And the Sun darkens in Jehovah's eye. But does not sin diffuse a fouler stain, And thicker darkness cloud the soul of man? Shall he the depths of endless wisdom know? The short-liv'd sovereign of the world below? His frail original confounds his boast, [dust. Sprung from the ground, and quicken'd from the

THE SONG OF MOSES,

IN THE FIFTEENTH CHAPTER OF EXODUS, PARA-
PHRASED.

THEN to the Lord, the vast triumphant throng
Of Israel's sons, with Moses, rais'd the song.

To God our grateful accents will we raise, And every tongue shall celebrate his praise : Behold display'd the wonders of his might; Behold the Lord triumphant in the fight! With what immortal fame and glory grac'd! What trophies rais'd amid the watery waste! How did his power the steeds and riders sweep Ingulf'd in heaps, and whelm'd beneath the deep? Whom shall we fear, while he, Heaven's awful Unsheaths for Israel his avenging sword? His outstretch'd arm, and tutelary care, Guarded and sav'd us in the last despair: His mercy eas'd us from our circling pains, Unbound our shackles, and unlock'd our chains, To him our God, our fathers' God, I'll rear A sacred temple, and adore him there, With vows and incense, sacrifice and prayer.

[Lord,

The Lord commands in war; his matchless might Hangs out and guides the balance of the fight: By him the war the mighty leaders form, And teach the hovering tumult where to storm. His name, O Israel, Heaven's Eternal Lord, For ever honour'd, reverenc'd, and ador'd.

When to the fight, from Egypt's fruitful soil, Pour'd forth in myriads all the sons of Nile; The Lord o'erthrew the courser and the car, Sunk Pharaoh's pride, and overwhelm'd his war. Beneath th' encumber'd deeps his legions lay, For many a league impurpling all the sea: The chiefs, and steeds, and warriours whirl'd around, Lay midst the roarings of the surges drown'd.

Who shall thy power, thou mighty God, with

stand,

And check the force of thy victorious hand?
Thy hand, which red with wrath in terrour rose,
To crush that day thy proud Ægyptian foes.
Struck by that hand, their drooping squadrons fall,
Crowding in death; one fate o'erwhelms them all.

Soon as thy anger, charg'd with vengeance, came,
They sunk like stubble crackling in the flame.
At thy dread voice the summon'd billows crowd,
And a still silence lulls the wondering flood:
Roll'd up, the crystal ridges strike the skies,
Waves peep o'er waves, and seas o'er seas arise,
Around in heaps the listening surges stand,
Mute and observant of the high command.
Congeal'd with fear attends the watery train,
Rous'd from the secret chambers of the main.

With savage joy the sons of Egypt cry'd, (Vast were their hopes, and boundless was their "Let us pursue those fugitives of Nile, [pride) This servile nation, and divide the spoil: And spread so wide the slaughter, till their blood Dyes with a stronger red the blushing flood. Oh! what a copious prey their hosts afford, To glut and fatten the devouring sword!"

As thus the yawning gulph the boasters pass'd, At thy command rush'd forth the rapid blast. Then, at the signal given, with dreadful sway, In one huge heap roll'd down the roaring sea; And now the disintangled waves divide, Unlock their folds, and thaw the frozen tide. The deeps alarm'd call terribly from far The loud, embattled surges to the war; Till her proud sons astonish'd Ægypt found, Cover'd with billows, and in tempests drown'd. What god can emulate thy power divine, Or who oppose his miracles to thine? When joyful we adore thy glorious name, Thy trembling foes confess their fear and shame.

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