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And when the pangs of woe thy breast must tear,
When pleasure fades, and fancy charms no more, Still may those hopes the gloomy prospect cheer,
Unmoved by grief, unchanged by fortune's
May love, esteem, and friendship, crown thy days,
With joys to guilt unknown, from doubt secure, While heavenly truth inspires the voice of praise,
And bids that praise beyond the world endure ! Thro' life to Virtue's sacred dictates true,
Be such thy joys as angels must approve, Such as may lead to răptures ever new,
To endless peace and purest bliss above !
STANZAS. Mrs. Carter.
ACQUAINT thyself with God, and be at peace;
To His attentive ear thy griefs confide ; His tender care each throbbing pain shall ease,
His arm sustain thee, and His counsel guide. No cold neglect the faithful heart repays,
Whose stedfast aim solicits His regard ; Each wish for merit, each attempt to please
He views, and His approving smiles reward. Thro: ev'ry changing scene His constant love
Alike shall make its happy object blest; Shall ev'ry joy of active life improve,
And sooth its latest agonies to resto
ON A THUNDER STORM.
By Bishop Lowth, at the age of 14.
Locked in the arms of balmy sleep
From every care of day,
And as serene, I lay.
Sudden tremendous thunders roll,
Quick lightnings round me glare, The solemn scene alarms the soul,
And wakes the mind to prayer. Whate'er, O LORD, in this dread hour,
These awful sounds portend, Whether sole engines of Thy power,
Or groans for Nature's end, Vouchsafe, amidst this time of dread,
Thy gracious arm to rear; O save from death each friendly head, And all
soul holds dear. If waked by Thy vindictive hand
This awful tempest stirs; That peal the voice of Thy command,
Those flames Thy messengers ;
Beneath the passing sun;
And let that will be done !
By all such strong explosive shakes,
One truth be understood :
And all He makes is good.
Not destined by Thy will, The bolt exerts its wild domain,
Self-authorised to kill ;
Quick interpose, all-gracious LORD,
In this tremendous night, Arise, and be alike adored,
For mercy and for might.
Let it not fall where riot foul
Pours forth the drunken jest,
Starts from its troubled rest.
Succour the couch where heauty lies,
All trembling pale with fear; Where sickness lifts its languid eyes,
Oh pour Thy comforts there. Awhile O spare those sinful breasts
Whose deeds the night deform,
Unconscious of the storm.
Whose image shakes the soul,
And loudest thunders roll,
Well pleased, O LORD, each eye shall see
Those final thunders hurled ;
That flash which melts. the world.
ON THE BATH HOSPITAL.
Open to the sick Poor of every Part of the World.
O! PAUSE awhile, whoe'er thou art
That drink'st this healing stream ;
Diffused its heavenly beam ;
Think on the wretch whose distant lot
This friendly aid denies ;
He unregarded lies.
Relieve his heart-felt woe;
In genial currents flow.
And pining want, be free ;
poor receive from thee.
CHILD OF MAN.-J. Bowdler, Jun.
“ Child of Man, whose seed below
Must fulfil their race of woe, “ Heir of want, and doubt, and pain, “ Does thy fainting heart complain ? “Oh! in thought one night recall “ The night of grief in Herod's hall, “ There I bore the vengeance due,
Freely bore it all for you. “ Child of Dust, Corruption's son, “ By pride deceived, by pride undone, “ Willing captive, yet be free, • Take my yoke, and learn of me; “ I, of heaven and earth the LORD, “GOD with God, the eternal WORD, “ I forsook my Father's side, “ Toil'd, and wept, and bled, and died.
" Child of Doubt, does fear surprize, “ Vexing thought within thee rise ;
Wondering, murmuring, dost thou gaze “ On evil men and evil days? « Oh! if darkness round thee lower, “ Darker far my dying hour; “ Which bade that fearful cry awake,
My God, my God, dost thou forsake! “ Child of Sin, by guilt oppress'd, “ Heaves at last thy throbbing breast?