To things unseen by mortal eyes, Directs his views, his prospects rise, His hopes still fix'd on joys to come, O were these heavenly prospects mine, CHARITY. BEHOLD where, breathing love divine, Our dying Master stands, His weeping followers, gathering round, Receive his last commands. From that mild Teacher's parting lips, The gentle precept which he gave, "Blest is the man whose soft'ning heart "Feels all another's pain; "To whom the supplicating eye "Was never raised in vain, "Whose breast expands with gen'rous warmth "A stranger's woes to feel, "And bleeds in pity o'er the wound "He wants the pow'r to heal. "He spreads his kind supporting arms, "And brings unask'd relief. "To gentle offices of love "His feet are never slow; "He views through Mercy's melting eye "A brother in a foe. "Peace from the bosom of his God, "My peace to him I give ; "And, when he kneels before the throne "His trembling soul shall live. "To him protection shall be shown, "And mercy from above "Descends on those who thus fulfil "The perfect law of love. HUMILITY. LORD, do thou thy grace impart; Poor in spirit, meek in heart, Let me like my Saviour be, From the time that thee I know, Lowly both in heart and eye. Simple, teachable and mild, Pleas'd with all the Lord provides, Wean'd from all the world besides. Saviour, fix my soul on Thee, Nothing seek beneath, above, O that all may seek and find MEEKNESS, HAPPY the meek, whose gentle breast, Calm as the regions of the blest, His heart no broken friendships sting, Spirit of grace! all meek and mild, FOR RESIGNATION, THоU power supreme, whose mighty scheme These woes of mine fulfil, Here firm I rest; they must be best, Because they are thy will. Then, all I want-O, do thou grant SUBMISSION. O LORD, my best desire fulfil, And help me to resign Life, health, and comfort, to thy will, Why should I shrink at thy command. Or tremble at the gracious hand No; rather let me freely yield Thy favour all my journey through, Wisdom and mercy guide my way; A poor blind creature of a day, And crush'd before the moth. But ah! my inward spirit cries, Else the next cloud that veils my skies, VERSES FOR THE MORNING. ARISE, my soul, with joy arise, Oh, may this day, Indulgent Power, |