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THE POET'S HYMN FOR HIMSELF.

Of good and pious works Thou art the seed, That quickens only where thou say'st it may. Unless Thou show to us Thine own true way, No man can find it; Father! thou must lead. Do Thou, then, breathe those thoughts into my mind

By which such virtue may in me be bred That in Thy holy footsteps I may tread; The fetters of my tongue do Thou unbind, That I may have the power to sing of Thee, And sound Thy praises everlastingly.

MICHAEL ANGELO. (Italian.) Translation of SAMUEL WORDSWORTH.

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From the earth's vast hollow womb
Music's deepest bass shall come;
Sea and floods, from shore to shore,
Shall the counter-tenor roar;
To this concert, when we sing,
Whistling winds, your descant bring,
Which may bear the sound above
Where the orb of fire doth move,
And so climb from sphere to sphere,
Till our song the Almighty hear!

So shall He, from heaven's high tower,
On the earth His blessings shower;
All this huge wide orb we see
Shall one choir, one temple be;
There our voices we will rear,
Till we fill it every where,
And enforce the fiends, that dwell

In the air, to sink to hell.

Then, O come! with sacred lays Let us sound the Almighty's praise.

GEORGE WITHER

THE POET'S HYMN FOR HIMSELF.

GREAT Almighty, King of heaven,
And one God in persons three-
Honor, praise, and thanks be given
Now and evermore to Thee,

Who hast more for Thine prepared
Than by words can be declared!

By Thy mercies I was taken
From the pits of miry clay,
Wherein, wretched and forsaken,
Helpless, hopeless too, I lay;

And those comforts Thou didst give me
Whereof no man can deprive me.

By Thy grace the passions, troubles,
And what most my heart oppressed.
Have appeared as airy bubbles,
Dreams, or sufferings but in jest;

And with profit that hath ended
Which my foes for harm intended.

Those afflictions and those terrors,
Which did plagues at first appear,
Did but show me what mine errors
And mine imperfections were;

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PSALM XX.

The pangs of death did compass me, and Nor shall Thy spreading gospel rest bound me every where;

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Till through the world Thy truth has run;

The flowing waves of wickedness did put me Till Christ has all the nations blest

in great fear.

The sly and subtle snares of hell were round about me set;

And for my death there was prepared a deadly trapping net.

I, thus beset with pain and grief, did pray to God for grace;

That see the light or feel the sun.

Great Sun of Righteousness, arise!

Bless the dark world with heavenly light! Thy gospel makes the simple wise—

Thy laws are pure, Thy judgments right.

And He forthwith did hear my plaint out of Thy noblest wonders here we view,

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In souls renewed, and sins forgiven;

Lord, cleanse my sins, my soul renew,

And make Thy word my guide to heaven! ISAAC WATTS.

PSALM XX.

SOME put their trust in chariots, And horses some rely on;

But God alone

Our help we ownGod is the strength of Sion.

His name we will remember
In every sore temptation,
And feel its powers;

For Christ is ours,
With all His great salvation.

We are His ransomed people,
And He that bought will have us
Secure from harm,
While Jesu's arm

Is still stretched out to save us.

He, out of all our troubles,
Shall mightily deliver,

And then receive
Us up to live

And reign with Him for ever.

CHARLES WESLEY.

PSALM XXIII.

I.

GOD, who the universe doth hold
In His fold,

Is my shepherd, kind and heedful-
Is my shepherd, and doth keep
Me, His sheep,

Still supplied with all things needful.

II.

He feeds me in His fields, which been
Fresh and green,

Mottled with Spring's flowery painting-
Thro' which creep, with murmuring crooks,
Crystal brooks,

To refresh my spirit's fainting.

III.

When my soul from heaven's way Went astray,

With earth's vanities seduced, For His name's sake, kindly, He Wandering me

To His holy fold reduced—

IV.

Yea, though I stray through death's vale,
Where his pale

Shades did on each side enfold me,
Dreadless, having Thee for guide,

Should I bide;

For Thy rod and staff uphold me.

V.

Thou my board with messes large
Dost surcharge;

My bowls full of wine Thou pourest ;
And before mine enemies'

Envious eyes

Balm upon my head Thou showerest.

VI.

Neither dures Thy bounteous grace

For a space;

But it knows nor bound nor measure: So my days, to my life's end,

I shall spend

In Thy courts with heavenly pleasure.

FRANCIS DAVISON,

PSALM XXIII.

Lo, my Shepherd's hand divine!
Want shall never more be mine.
In a pasture fair and large
He shall feed His happy charge,
And my couch with tenderest care
'Midst the springing grass prepare.

When I faint with Summer's heat,
He shall lead my weary feet
To the streams that, still and slow,
Through the verdant meadows flow.
He my soul anew shall frame;
And, His mercy to proclaim,
When through devious paths I stray,
Teach my steps the better way.

Though the dreary vale I tread
By the shades of death o'erspread;
There I walk from terror free,
While my every wish I see
By Thy rod and staff supplied-
This my guard, and that my guide.

While my foes are gazing on,
Thou Thy favoring care hast shown;
Thou my plenteous board hast spread;
Thou with oil refreshed my head;
Filled by Thee, my cup o'erflows;
For Thy love no limit knows.
Constant, to my latest end,
This my footsteps shall attend,
And shall bid Thy hallowed dome
Yield me an eternal home.

PSALM XXX.

I.

JAMES MERRICK.

LORD, to Thee, while I am living,
Will I sing hymns of thanksgiving ;

For Thou hast drawn me from a gulf of woes,
So that my foes

Do not deride me.

II.

When Thine aid, Lord, I implored,
Then by Thee was I restored;

My mournful heart with joy Thou straight

didst fill,

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Therefore, harp and voice, cease never, But sing sacred lays for ever

Though sadness be thy guest in sullen night, To great Jehovah, mounted on the skies,

The cheerful light

Will cheerful make thee.

Who dried mine eyes

When as I mourned.

FRANCIS DAVISON

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