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Thy friendly crook shall give me aid,
And guide me through the dreadful shade.
Tho' in a bare and rugged way,
Through devious lonely wilds I stray,
Thy bounty shall my pains beguile ;
The barren wilderness shall smile,
With sudden greens and herbage crown'd,
And streams shall murmur all around.
The Creator's Works atteft his Greatness.
The spacious firmament on high,
With all the blue etherial sky,
And spankled heav'ns, a shining frame,
Their great Original proclaim :
Th' unwearied sun, from day to day,
Does his Creator's power display,
And publishes to every land,
The work of an Almighty hand.
Soon as the evening shades prevail,
The moon takes up the wondrous tale,
And, nightly, to th’ list’ning earth,
Repeats the story of her birth ;
Whilft all the stars that round her burn,
And all the planets in their turn,
Confirm the tidings as they roll,
And spread the truth from pole to pole.
Wha: though, in solemn silence, all
Move round the dark terrestrial ball !
What tho' nor real voice nor found,
Amid their radiant orbs be found !
In reason's ear they all rejoice,
And utter forth a glorious voice,
Forever singing as they shine,
“ Thę hand that made us is divine.”
An Address to the Deity.
O THOU ! whose balance does the mountains weigh ;
Whose will the wild tumultuous seas obey ;
Whose breath can turn those wat'ry worlds to flame,
That flame to tempelt, and that tempest tame;
Earth's meanest fon, all trembling prostrate falls,
And on the boundless of thy goodness calls.
O! give the winds all past offence to sweep,
To scatter wide, or bury in the deep.
Thy power, my weakness, may I ever see,
And wholly dedicate my soul to thee.
Reign o'er my will, my paflions ebb and flow
At thy command, nor human motive know !
If anger boil, let anger be my praise,
And lin the graceful indignation raise.
My love be warm to succour the distress'd,
And lift the burden from the soul oppress'd.
Oh may my understanding ever read
This glorious volume which thy wisdom made !
May sea and land, and earth and heav'n be join'd
To bring th' eternal Author to my mind !
When oceans roar, or awful thunders roll,
May thoughts of thy dread vengeance shake my soul !
When earth's in bloom, or planets proudly fhine,
Adore, my heart, the Majesty divine !
Grant I may ever at the morning ray,
Oped with prayer the consecrated day;
Tune thy great praise, and bid my soul arise,
And with the mounting sun ascend the skies ;
As that advances, let my zeal improve,
And glow with ardour of consummate love!
Nor cease at eve, but with the setting fun
My endless worship shall be still begun.
And oh ! permit the gloom of folemn night,
To sacred thought may forcibly invite.
When this world's fhut, and awful planets rise,
Call on our minds, and raise them to the skies ;
Compofe our fouls with a less dazzling fight,
And show all nature in a milder light ;
How every boist'rous thought, in calm subsides!
How the smooth'd spirit into goodness glides !
O how divine ! to tread the milky way,
To the bright palace of the Lord of day;
His court admire, or for his favour sue,
Or leagues of friendship with his saints renew ;
Pleas'd to look down and see the world asleep;
While I long vigils to its Founder keep!
Canst thou not shake the centre ? Oh control,
Subdue by force, the rebel in my soul ;
Thou, who canst fill the raging of the flood,
Refrain the various tumults of my blood ;
Teach me, with equal firmness, to sustain
Alluring pleasure, and assaulting pain.
pant for thee in each desire !
And with strong faith foment the holy fire !
Stretch out my foul in hope, and grasp the prize,
Which in eternity's deep bofom lies !
At the great day of recompense behold,
Devoid of fear, the fatal book unfold !
Then wafted upward to the blissful seat,
From age to age my grateful fong repeat ;
My Light, my Life, my God, my Saviour fee,
And rival angels in the praise of thee !
The Pursuit of Happiness often ill dire&ted.
The midnight moon serenely smiles
O’er nature's soft repose ;
No low'ring cloud obscures the sky,
Nor ruffling tempest blows.
Now ev'ry paflion links to rest,
The throbbing heart lies till
And varying schemes of life no more
Distract the lab'ring will.
In silence hush'd to reason's voice,
Attends each mental pow'r ;
Come, dear Emilia, and enjoy
Reflection's fav’rite hour.
Come ; while the peaceful scene invites,
Let's search this ample round,
Where shall the lovely fleeting form
Of happiness be found ?
Does it amidAt the frolic mirth
assemblies dwell ;
Or hide beneath the folemn gloom,
That shades the hermit's ce!l ?
How oft the laughing brow of joy,
A fick'ning heart conceals !
And, through the cloister's deep recess,
Invading forrow steals.
In vain, through beauty, fortune, wit,
The fugitive we trace ;.
It dwells not in the faithless smile
That brightens Clodia's face.
Perhaps the joy to these deny'd,
The heart in friendship finds :
Ah ! dear delusion, gay conceit
Of visionary minds!
Howe'er our varying notions rove,
Yet all agree in one,
To place its being in fome state,
At distance from our own.
O blind to each indulgent aim,
Of pow'r supremely wise, Who fancy happiness in aught
The hand of Heav'n denies ! Vain is alike the joy we seek,
And vain what we possess,
Unless harmonious reason tunes
The passions into peace.
To temper'd wishes, just desires,
Is happiness confin'd ;
And, deaf to folly's call, attends
The music of the mind.
Dear Chloe, while the busy crowd,
The vain, the wealthy and the proud,
In folly's maze advance ;
Tho' fingularity and pride
Be call'd our choice, we'll step aside,
Nor join the giddy dance.
From the gay world, we'll oft retire
To our own family and fire,
Where love our hours employs ;
No noisy neighbour enters here,
No intermeddling firarger near,
To spoil our heart-felt joys. .
If solid happiness we prize,
Within our breast this jewel lies ;
Ard they are fools who roam :
The world has nothing to bestow ;
From our ownselves our joys must flow,
And that dear hut, our home.
Of rest was Noah's dove bereft,
When with impatient wing the left
That safe retreat, the ark : Giving her vain excursion o'er, The disappointed bird once more
Explor'd the sacred bark.
Tho' fools fpurn Hymen's gentle powers,
We, who improve his golden hours,
By sweet experience know,
That marriage, rightly understood,
Gives to the tender and the good
A paradise below.
Our babes shall richest comforts bring ;
If tutor'd right, they'll prove a spring
Whence pleasures ever rise :
We'll form their minds, with studious care,
To all that's manly, good, and fair,
And train them for the skies.
While they our wifest hours engage,
They'll joy our youth, support our age,
And crown our hoary hairs :
They'll grow in virtue ev'ry day,
And thus our fondest loves repay,
And recompense our cares.
No borrow'd joys ! they're all our own,
While to the world we live unknown,
Or by the world forgot :
Monarchs ! we envy not your state ;
We look with pity on the great,
And bless our humble lot.
Our portion is not large, indeed ;
But then how little do we need !
For nature's calls are few :
In this the art of living lies,
To want no more than may suffice,
And make that little do.
We'll therefore relish, with content,
Whate'er kind Providence has sent,
Nor aim beyond our pow'r ; For, if our stock be very small, 'Tis prudence to enjoy it all,
Nor lose che present hour.
To be relign'd, when ills betide,
Patient when favours are deny'd,
And pleas'd with favours giv'n :