7 'Tis love that human fin forgives, And bids our hopes afpire; I And this the grace that ftill furvives, CCCXLVI. Com. Met. BARBAULD. The Character and Reward of Chriftian Charity. BEH EHOLD where breathing love divine His weeping followers gathering round, 2 From that mild Teacher's parting lips 3 "Bleft is the man, whofe foftening heart 4"Whose breaft expands with generous warmth "A ftranger's woes to feel; "And bleeds in pity o'er the wound "He wants the power to heal. 5 "He spreads his kind fupporting arms "To every child of grief; "His facred bounty largely flows, "And brings unasked relief. 6" To gentleft offices of love "His feet are never flow; "He views thro' mercy's melting eye. "A brother in a foe. 7 "Peace from the bofom of his God, "My peace to him I give ; "And when he kneels before the throne, "His trembling foul fhall live. 8 "To him protection shall be shown: I 2. 3 4 5 CCCXLVII. Long Met. BROWNE. GOD, my Saviour, and my King, May I from every act abstain, Still may I feel my heart inclined With pity may my breast o'erflow, And let a fellow's profperous ftate T 2 6 With With hearty and with forward zeal May I promote my brother's weal; Be pleased to please, whate'er th' event; And griefs, or leffen, or prevent.. And should my neighbour spiteful prove, Still may I vanquish fpite with love; And mercy as I hope to know, That mercy to my fellow fhow. In all my life may love thus shine, An image fair, tho' faint, of thine : Let me thy humble follower prove, Father of men, great God of love. CCCXLVIII. B Short Metre. SCOTT. Mercy. EHOLD a wretch in woe, I hear the thirsty cry, The famished beg for bread: Pale at the penal threat, A ftarving family he fhews; Then cancelled be the debt. 5 How elfe, on sprightly wing, Up to thy throne, my God, my King, 6 The pitiful and kind 7. I Thy pity will repay; And who forgive on earth, shall find But juftice lifts her fcale, And fhakes her rod on high; Nor prayers, nor fighs, nor tears avail CCCXLIX, Long Metre. M Meekness. SCOTT. ARK, when tempeftuous winds arise, All ocean mixing with the fkies, 2 Not lefs confufion rends the mind 3 4 Calm reafon is to rage refigned, O felf-tormenting child of pride, Happy the meek, whofe gentle breast, Clear as the fummer's evening ray, Calm as the regions of the blest, T 3 5 Their 5 6 Their heart no broken friendships fting, Spirit of grace, all meek and mild, CCCL. Proper Metre, Contentment. COTTON. F folid happiness we prize, The world has little to beflow: From our own felves our joys must flow, 2 We'll therefore relifh, with content, 3 We'll be refigned, when ills betide, Whofe fragrance reaches heaven. 4 Thus crowned with peace, thro' life we'll go, |