Life, the most valued good that mortals prize,
Compar'd to which, we all things else despise ;
Life, in its vig'rous pride, with all that's stor'd
In the extent of that important word;
Ev'n life itself, my God, without thy love,
A tedious round of vanity would prove.
Grant me thy love, be that my glorious lot,
Swallow'd in that, be all things else forgot.
And while those heavenly flames my breast inspire,
I'll call up all my powers, and touch the tuneful lyre;
With all the eloquence of grateful lays,

I'll sing thy goodness, and recite thy praise.
The charming theme shall still my soul employ,
And give me foretastes of immortal joy;
With silent rapture, not to be exprest,
My eager wishes here shall richly feast.
When sullen night its gloomy curtains spreads,
And soothing sleep its drowsy influence sheds;
I'll banish flatt'ring slumbers from my eyes,
And praise thee till the golden morning rise;
Those silent hours shall consecrated be,

And through the list'ning shades I'll send my vows

to thee.

MRS. ROWE.

PSALM LXV.

THERE is nothing in this psalm to guide us to the time, or occasion of its composition: but its beauties are truly striking.—Geddes.

How graceful and animated is that rich and flourishing picture of nature, which is exhibited in the sixty-fifth psalm; when the prophet, with a fertility of expression correspondent to the subject, praises the beneficence of the Deity in the watering the earth, and making it fruitful!-LOWTH, Lect. 25.

A majestic propriety of words adds to the beauty of a thought majestic in itself. A passage at the end of psalm lxv. may be instanced:

"Thou, O God, crownest the year with thy "goodness; thy clouds drop fatness:

66

They shall drop upon the dwellings of the "wilderness, and the little hills shall rejoice on "every side:

"The folds shall be full of sheep; the valleys " also shall stand so thick with corn, that they shalt laugh and sing."-GREEN'S Observations on the Sublime of Longinus.

There is a beautiful use of the allegory, or chain of metaphors, in the latter, part of the lxvth psalm. The description is lively, and what the French call riante, or laughing. It has indeed been frequently observed, that the Eastern writings abound very much in strong met phors, but in Scripture they are always supported by a ground-work of masculine and nervous strength, without which they are apt to swell into ridiculous bombast.SMITH'S Longinus, A. 132, note,

PSALM LXV *.

SION's true, glorious God! on thee
Praise waits in all humility.

* Henry Vaughan, called the Silurist, from that part of Wales, whose inhabitants were the ancient Silures, was born on the banks of the Uske, in Brecknockshire, and entered in 1638 at Jesus College, Oxford, being then 17. He was designed for the law, but retiring to his home at the commencement of the civil wars, became eminent in the practice of physic, and was esteemed by scholars (says Wood) an ingenious person, but proud

All flesh shall unto thee repair,
To thee, O thou that hearest pray'r!
But sinful words and works still spread,
And over-run my heart and head;
Transgressions make me foul each day,
O purge them, purge them all away!
Happy is he! whom thou wilt choose
To serve thee in thy blessed house!
Who in thy holy temple dwells,
And, fill'd with joy, thy goodnes tells!
King of salvation! by strange things,
And terrible, thy justice brings.

Man to his duty thou alone

:

Art the world's hope, and but thee, none.
Sailors, that float on flowing seas,

Stand firm by thee, and have sure peace :
Thou still'st the loud waves, when most wild,
And mak'st the raging people mild.

and humourous. He died in 1695,-Mr. ELLIS, vol. III.

In Vaughan's poems occur paraphrases of the 65th and 121st psalms; I have chosen the former, and believe that a more favourable specimen of his poetry could hardly be found in either of his volumes.

Thy arm did first the mountains lay,
And girds their rocky heads this day.
The most remote, who know not thee,
At thy great works astonish'd be.
The outgoings of the even and dawn,
In antiphones sing to thy name.
Thou visit'st the low earth, and then
Water'st it for the sons of men;

Thy upper river, which abounds

With fertile streams, makes rich all grounds,
And by thy mercies still supply'd
The sower doth his bread provide.
Thou water'st every ridge of land,
And settlest with thy secret hand
The furrows of it; then thy warm,
And opening show'rs (restrain'd from harm)
Soften the mould, while all unseen
The blade grows up alive and green.
The year is with thy goodness crown'd,
And all thy paths drop fatness round,
They drop upon the wilderness,

For thou dost even the deserts bless;
And hills too full of springing pride,
Wear fresh adornments on each side,
The fruitful flocks fill every dale,
And purling corn doth clothe the vale;