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Author of good! to thee I turn :
Thy ever-wakeful eye
Alone can all my wants discern;
Thy hand alone supply.

O let thy fear within me dwell,
Thy love my footsteps guide;
That love shall vainer loves expel;
That fear all fears beside.

And, oh! by error's force subdued,
Since oft my stubborn will
Prepost'rous shuns the latent good,
And grasps the specious ill;

Not to my wish, but to my want,

Do thou thy gifts apply:

Unask'd, what good thou knowest, grant;
What ill, tho' ask'd, deny.



Ir sorrow's holiest tears could bring
Thy spirit from its native skies,——
Then might we hope that pity's wing
Would waft thee back from paradise!
But all our sorrow is unknown,
In that blest place where thou art gone.

Farewell! farewell! beloved shade,

Long shall thy memory linger here,
Till they that lov'd thee too are dead,
And mingling in another sphere;
Where death's cold hand can never tear,
The ties that bound us shortly here.

Oh! happy was that change to thee,
When death appear'd without a frown;
And life-and immortality-

Display'd thy bright unfading crown!
For thou wert faithful to the call,
Which rais'd thee as a guide to all.

Well may they weep, who round thee hung,-
The church shall long thy loss deplore ;
For oh that heart is cold,-that tongue
On earth, shall praise our God no more;
For thou hast join'd the hosts above,
Who triumph through redeeming love!

No more by care and sorrow worn,
Thy voice reproves each dull delay;
And oh no more shall they who mourn,
Hear thy kind voice in sorrow's day:
And who shall them conduct and guide,
On life's tempestuous swelling tide?

"Still trust in God!" our hearts may hear
The parting words-the last he gave,
When death's cold hand was ling'ring near
Which brought him quickly to the grave!
That bed from which none shall arise,
Till heaven's last thunder rends the skies.

Then, may our souls devoutly think,
From life one step divides the tomb;
We're standing on an awful brink,

And moments soon will seal our doom!
Yes! all who mourn his sudden call,
Must soon obey-it speaks to all!



SHE left her infant on the Sunday morn,
A creature doom'd to shame! in sorrow born;
A thing that languish'd, nor arrived at age,
When the man's thoughts with sin and pain en-


She came not home to share our humble meal,
Her father thinking what his child would feel
From his hard sentence-still she come not home.
The night grew dark, and yet she was not come ;
The east wind roar'd, the sea return'd the sound,
And the rain fell as if the world were drown'd:
There were no lights without, and my goodman,
To kindness frighten'd, with a groan began
To talk of Ruth, and pray; and then he took
The Bible down, and read the holy book;
For he had learning: and when that was done
We sat in silence--whither could we run?
We said, and then rush'd frighten'd from the door,
For we could bear our own conceit no more :
We call'd on neighbours-there she had not been ;
We met some wand'rers-ours they had not seen;
We hurried o'er the beach, both north and south,
Then join'd, and wander'd to our haven's mouth:
Where rush'd the falling waters wildly out,
I scarcely heard the goodman's fearful shout,
Who saw a something on the billow ride,
And-Heaven have mercy on our sins! he cried,
It is my child!-and to the present hour
So he believes-and spirits have the power.

And she was gone! the waters wide and deep Roll'd o'er her body as she lay asleep.

She heard no more the angry waves and wind,
She heard no more the threat'ning of mankind


Wrapt in dark weeds, the refuse of the storm,
To the hard rock was borne her comely form!
But O! what storm was in that mind? what strife,
That could compel her to lay down her life?
For she was seen within the sea to wade,
By one at distance, when she first had pray'd;
Then to a rock within the hither shoal
Softly and with a fearful step she stole ;
Then, when she gain'd it, on the top she stood
A moment still-and dropt into the flood!
The man cried loudly, but he cried in vain,—
She heard not then-she never heard again!

She had, pray, Heav'n!-she had that world in sight,

Where frailty mercy finds, and wrong has right; But sure, in this, her portion such has been, Well had it still remain'd a world unseen!



How are thy servants blest, O Lord!
How sure is their defence!
Eternal wisdom is their guide,

Their help omnipotence.

In foreign realms, and lands remote,
Supported by thy care,

Through burning climes I past unhurt,
And breath'd in tainted air.

Thy mercy sweeten'd every soil,
Made every region please;
The hoary Alpine hills it warm'd,

And smooth'd the Tyrrhene seas.

Think, O my soul, devoutly think,
How with affrighted eyes

Thou saw'st the wide extended deep
In all its horrors rise!

Confusion dwelt in every face,
And fear in ev'ry heart,

When waves on waves, and gulphs in gulphs, O'ercame the pilot's art.

Yet then from all my griefs, O Lord,
Thy mercy set me free;
While in the confidence of pray'r
My soul took hold on thee.

For though in dreadful whirls we bung

High on the broken wave,

I knew thou wert not slow to hear,
Nor impotent to save.

The storm was laid, the winds retir'd
Obedient to thy will;

The sea, that roar'd at thy command,
At thy command was still.

In midst of dangers, fears, and deaths,
Thy goodness I'll adore;

And praise thee for thy mercies past,
And humbly hope for more.

My life, if thou preserv'st my life,

Thy sacrifice shall be;

And death, if death must be my doom,
Shall join my soul to thee.


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