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As when it tunes the linnet's voice,
By reason taught to scorn those fears
Thy life may all the tend'rest care
Their guardian wings extend!
When thro' creation's vast expanse
Unmov'd, may'st thou the final storm
ON THE MORNING OF CHRIST'S NATIVITY.
THIS is the month, and this the happy morn,
That he our deadly forfeit should release,
That glorious form, that light unsufferable,
Wherewith he wont at heaven's high council-table
He laid aside; and here with us to be,
And chose with us a darksome house of mortal clay. Say, heavenly Muse, shall not thy sacred vein Afford a present to the Infant-God?
Hast thou no verse, no hymn, or solemn strain, To welcome him to this his new abode,
Now while the heaven, by the sun's team untrod,
See, how from far, upon the eastern road,
Have thou the honour first thy Lord to greet,
And join thy voice unto the angel-quire,
From out his secret altar touch'd with hallow'd fire.
THE PETIT-MAITRE CLERGYMAN.
I VENERATE the man whose heart is warm, Whose hands are pure, whose doctrine and whose life
Coincident, exhibit lucid proof
That he is honest in the sacred cause.
To such I render more then mere respect,
Or with his pen, save when he scrawls a card;
To make God's work a sinecure: a slave
UPON THE CIRCUMCISION.
YE flaming powers, and winged warriors bright,
Seas wept from our deep sorrow;
He, who with all heaven's heraldry whilere Enter'd the world, now bleeds to give us ease Alas, how soon our sin
ore doth begin
His infancy to seize !
more exceeding love, or law more just! st law indeed, but more exceeding love! or we, by rightful doom remediless,
Were lost in death, till he, that dwelt above,
And that great covenant which we still transgress Entirely satisfied;
And the full wrath beside
Of vengeful justice bore for our excess;
And seals obedience first, with wounded smart, This day; but, O! ere long,
Huge pangs and strong
Will pierce more near his heart.
THE PRAYER OF JACOB.
O God of Abrah'm! by whose hand
Who through this weary pilgrimage,
Our vows, our prayers, we now present
Before thy throne of grace;
God of our fathers, be the God
Through each perplexing path of life
Our wand'ring footsteps guide,
O spread thy cov'ring wings around,
Our feet arrive in peace.
Now with the humble voice of prayer
Thy mercy we implore;
Then with the grateful voice of praise
Thy goodness we'll adore.
SEE, how rude Winter's icy hand
Has stripp'd the trees, and seal'd the ground!
My soul a sharper winter mourns
Jesus, my glorious sun, arise!
Dear Lord, regard my feeble cry,
Be still, my soul, and wait his hour,
He, by whose all-commanding words*
PLEASING Spring again is here;
Gen. viii. 22.