The Nativity.

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Richard Crashaw.

THE NATIVITY.

GLOOMY night embraced the place
Where the noble infant lay;

The babe look'd up and show'd his face-
In spite of darkness it was day.

We saw thee in thy balmy nest,
Bright dawn of our eternal day!
We saw thine eyes break from the east,
And chase the trembling shades away:
We saw thee, and we bless'd the sight,
We saw thee by thine own sweet light.

She sings thy tears asleep, and dips
Her kisses in thy weeping eye;
She spreads the red leaves of thy lips,

That in their buds yet blushing lie.

In heavenly praise employ ;

Spread his tremendous name around,

Till heaven's broad arch rings back the sound, The general burst of joy.

Ye whom the charms of grandeur please,
Nursed on the downy lap of ease,

Fall prostrate at his throne;

Ye princes, rulers, all adore;

Praise him, ye kings, who makes your power

An image of his own.

Ye fair, by nature formed to move,
Oh, praise the eternal source of love,
With youth's enlivening fire;
Let age take up the tuneful lay,

e-then soar away,

Sigh his bless'd name—

And ask an angel's lyre.

A Prayer to the Almighty.

283

Anna Letitia Barbauld.

A PRAYER TO THE ALMIGHTY.

GOD of my life, and Author of my days!
Permit my feeble voice to lisp thy praise,
And trembling take upon a mortal tongue,
That hallow'd name, to harps of seraphs sung.
Yet here the brightest seraphs could no more
Than hide their faces, tremble, and adore.
Worms, angels, men, in every different sphere,
Are equal all, for all are nothing here.
All nature faints beneath the mighty name
Which nature's works through all her parts proclaim;
I feel that name my inmost thoughts control,
And breathe an awful stillness through my soul
As by a charm the waves of grief subside,
Impetuous passion stops her headlong tide:
At thy felt presence all emotions cease,
And my hush'd spirit finds a sudden peace,
Till every worldly thought within me dies,
And earth's gay pageants vanish from my eyes;

;

Yet when young April's husband-showers

Shall bless the faithful Maia's bed,
We'll bring the first-born of her flow'rs

To kiss thy feet and crown thy head:
To thee, dread Lamb! whose love must keep
The shepherds, while they feed their sheep.

Christopher Smart.

ON RECOVERY FROM SICKNESS.

WHEN Israel's Ruler, on the Royal bed
In anguish and in perturbation lay,

The down relieved not his anointed head,

And rest gave place to horror and dismay : Fast flow'd the tears, high heaved each gasping sigh, When God's own prophet thunder'd—Monarch, thou must die.

But, O immortals, what had I to plead,

When death stood o'er me with his threat'ning lance!

When reason left me in the time of need,

And sense was lost in terror or in trance;

Reflections.

My sinking soul was with my blood inflamed,
And the celestial image sunk, defaced and maim'd.

The virtuous partner of my nuptial bands
Appear❜d a widow to my frantic sight;
My little prattlers, lifting up their hands,

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Beckon me back to them, to life, to light. I come, ye spotless sweets! I come again; Nor have your tears been shed, nor have ye knelt in vain.

Rev. George Crabbe.

REFLECTIONS.

WHEN all the fiercer passions cease
(The glory and disgrace of youth);

When the deluded soul in peace,
Can listen to the voice of truth;

When we are taught in whom to trust,
And how to spare, to spend, to give,

(Our prudence kind, our pity just),
'Tis then we rightly learn to live.