Th' unwearied Sun from day to day
Does his Creator's power display;
And publishes, to every land,

The work of an Almighty hand.

8

Soon as the evening shades prevail,
The Moon takes up the wondrous tale;
And nightly, to the listening Earth,
Repeats the story of her birth:

Whilst 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. 16

What though in solemn silence all
Move round the dark terrestrial ball;
What though nor real voice nor sound
Amidst their radiant orbs be found?
In Reason's ear they all rejoice,
And utter forth a glorious voice ;
For ever singing as they shine:

"The Hand that made us is divine."

1712.

24

Joseph Addison.

THE UNIVERSAL PRAYER

FATHER of all! in every age,

In every clime adored,

By saint, by savage, and by sage,
Jehovah, Jove, or Lord!

Thou Great First Cause, least understood,
Who all my sense confined

To know but this, that thou art good,
And that myself am blind:

Yet gave me, in this dark estate,

To see the good from ill;

And binding Nature fast in Fate,
Left free the human Will.

What Conscience dictates to be done,
Or warns me not to do;

This teach me more than Hell to shun,
That more than Heaven pursue.

What blessings thy free bounty gives
Let me not cast away;

For God is paid when man receives;
T' enjoy is to obey.

Yet not to earth's contracted span
Thy goodness let me bound,
Or think thee Lord alone of man,
When thousand worlds are round.

Let not this weak unknowing hand

Presume thy bolts to throw,

And deal damnation round the land
On each I judge thy foe.

If I am right, thy grace impart,
Still in the right to stay;

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16

20

24

28

8

If I am wrong, O teach my heart
To find that better way.

Save me alike from foolish Pride
And impious Discontent,
At aught thy wisdom has denied,
Or aught thy goodness lent.

Teach me to feel another's woe,

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36

To hide the fault I see:

That mercy I to others show,

1738

That mercy show to me.

Mean though I am, not wholly so,

Since quickened by thy breath;

O lead me, wheresoe'er I go,

Through this day's life or death!

This day be bread and peace my lot:
All else beneath the sun

Thou know'st if best bestowed or not,
And let thy will be done.

To Thee, whose temple is all Space,
Whose altar, earth, sea, skies,
One chorus let all Being raise,
All Nature's incense rise!

Alexander Pope.

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44

48

52

THE DYING CHRISTIAN TO HIS

SOUL

VITAL spark of heav'nly flame!
Quit, O quit this mortal frame:
Trembling, hoping, ling'ring, flying,
Oh, the pain, the bliss of dying!
Cease, fond Nature, cease thy strife,
And let me languish into life!

Hark! they whisper; Angels say,
Sister Spirit, come away!
What is this absorbs me quite?

Steals my senses, shuts my sight,
Drowns my spirits, draws my breath?
Tell me, my Soul, can this be Death?

The world recedes; it disappears!
Heav'n opens on my eyes! my ears
With sounds seraphic ring:

Lend, lend your wings! I mount! I fly!
O Grave! where is thy Victory?
O Death! where is thy Sting?

1712.

6

12

18

Alexander Pope.

1779.

THE QUIET HEART

QUIET, Lord, my froward heart:
Make me teachable and mild,
Upright, simple, free from art,—

Make me as a weanèd child:
From distrust and envy free,
Pleased with all that pleases Thee.

What Thou shalt to-day provide,
Let me as a child receive;
What to-morrow may betide,

Calmly to Thy wisdom leave;
'T is enough that Thou wilt care:
Why should I the burden bear?

As a little child relies

On a care beyond his own,

Knows he's neither strong nor wise,
Fears to stir a step alone;

Let me thus with Thee abide,

As my Father, Guard, and Guide.

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18

John Newton.

REFUGE

JESU, Lover of my soul,

Let me to Thy bosom fly,
While the nearer waters roll,

While the tempest still is high: