o 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 A 
 
 
 
 COLLECTION 
 
 
 
 OF 
 
 
 
 £arrrH anfr IBrmiptibr 
 
 
 
 POETRY; 
 
 
 
 SELECTED FROM 
 
 
 
 The Works of eminent Authors, 
 
 
 
 AND COMPILED 
 
 
 
 IN AID OF THE FUNDS 
 
 
 
 OF THE 
 
 
 
 YORK COUNTY HOSPITAL. 
 
 
 
 " Who to th' a^licted gives relief, 
 
 
 
 And kindly soothes each anxious grief; 
 
 
 
 In fev'ry want, in ev'ry woe. 
 
 
 
 Himself, thy pity Lord, shall know." 
 
 
 
 g©M3£: 
 
 
 
 PRINTED BY JOHN HILL, MARYOATE. 
 
 
 
 1829. 
 
 
 

 
 //9I 
 
 TO C 6& 
 
 THE RIGHT HONOURABLE 
 LADY CHARLOTTE LANE FOX, 
 
 AND THE 
 PATRONESSES OF THE BAZAAR, 
 
 IN AID OF THE FUNDS 
 OF THE 
 
 YORK COUNTY HOSPITAL; 
 
 THIS COLLECTION 
 
 OF 
 
 SACRED AND DESCRIPTIVE POETRY 
 
 is, 
 
 BY HER LADYSHIP'S PERMISSION, 
 
 RESPECTFULLY INSCRIBED, 
 BY 
 HER LADYSHIP'S OBLIGED 
 AND 
 VERY HUMBLE SERVANT, 
 
 THE EDITOR. 
 
 -
 
 A COLLECTION 
 
 SACRED POETRY. 
 
 MILT O N. 
 
 And now on Earth the seventh 
 
 Evening- arose in Eden, for the sun 
 
 Was set, and twilight from the east came on 
 
 Forerunning night ; when at the holy mount 
 
 Of heaven's high seated top, the imperial throne 
 
 Of Godhead, fixed for ever firm and sure, 
 
 The Filial Power arrived, and sat him down 
 
 With his great Father ; for he also went 
 
 Invisible, yet staid, (such privilege 
 
 Hath omnipresence) and the work ordained, 
 
 Author and End of all things; and from work 
 
 Now resting, blessed and hallowed the seventh day, 
 
 As resting on that day from all his work, 
 
 But not in silence holy kept ; the harp 
 
 15
 
 6 
 
 Had work and rested not ; the solemn pipe, 
 
 And dulcimer, all organs of sweet stop, 
 
 All sounds on fret by string or golden wire, 
 
 Tempered soft tunings, intermixed with voice 
 
 Choral or unison : of incense clouds, 
 
 Fuming from golden censers, hid the mount. 
 
 Creation and the six days' act they sing : 
 
 Great are thy works JEHOVAH ! infinite 
 
 Thy power ! what thought can measure thee or tongue 
 
 Relate thee ! Greater now in thy return 
 
 Than from the giant angels : thee that day 
 
 Thy wonders magnified ; but to create 
 
 Is greater than created to destroy. 
 
 So sung they, and the empyrean rung 
 
 With Hallelujahs : thus was Sabbath kept. 
 
 HERBERT. 
 
 O Day most calm, and bright, 
 The fruit of this, the next world's bud, 
 Th' endorsement of supreme delight, 
 Writ by a friend, and with his blood : 
 The couch of time, care's balm and bay ! 
 The week were dark, but for thy light : 
 Thy torch doth shew the way.
 
 The other days and thou 
 Make up one man ; whose face thou art, 
 Knocking at Heaven with thy brow : 
 The workie days are the back part ; 
 The burden of the week lies there, 
 Making the whole to stoop and bow, 
 Till thy release appear. 
 
 Sundays the pillars are, 
 On which Heaven's palace arched lies : 
 The other days fill up the spare 
 And hollow room with vanities. 
 They are the fruitful beds and borders 
 Of God's rich garden : that is bare 
 
 Which parts their ranks and orders. 
 
 The Sundays of man's life, 
 Threaded together on Time's string, 
 Make bracelets to adorn the wife 
 Of the eternal glorious King. 
 On Sunday heaven's gate stands ope ; 
 Blessings are plentiful and rife, 
 
 More plentiful than hope.
 
 8 
 
 This day my Saviour rose, 
 And did enclose this light for his, 
 That, as each beast his manger knows, 
 Man might not of his fodder miss. 
 Christ hath took in this piece of ground 
 And made a garden there for those 
 
 AVlio want herbs for their wound. 
 
 The rest of our creation 
 Our great Redeemer did remove, 
 With the same shake which, at his passion, 
 Did th' earth and all things with it move 
 As Samson bore the doors away, 
 Christ's hands, though nailed, wrought salvation. 
 And did unhinge that day. 
 
 The brightness of that day 
 We sullied by our foul offence ; 
 Wherefore that robe we cast away, 
 Having a new at his expence, 
 Whose drops of blood paid the full price 
 That was required to make us gay, 
 And fit for Paradise.
 
 9 
 
 Thou art a day of mirth ; 
 And where the week days trail on ground , 
 Thy flight is higher, as thy birth. 
 O let me take thee at the bound, 
 Leaping with thee from seven to seven, 
 Till that we both, being toss'd from earth, 
 Fly hand in hand to Heaven ! 
 
 LEYDEN. 
 
 With silent awe I hail the sacred morn, 
 
 That slowly wakes while all the fields are still 
 A soothing calm on every breeze is borne, 
 
 A graver murmur gurgles from the rill, 
 
 And echo answers softer from the hill, 
 And softer sings the linnet from the thorn ; 
 
 The skylark warbles in a tone less shrill. 
 Hail, light serene ! hail, sacred Sabbath morn ! 
 
 The rooks float silently, in airy drove ; 
 The sun a placid yellow lustre throws ; 
 
 The gales, that lately sigh'd along the grove, 
 Have hushed their downy wings in dead repose, 
 
 The hovering rack of clouds forgets to move : 
 So smiled the day when the first morn arose 1
 
 10 
 
 MILT O N. 
 
 These are thy glorious works, Parent of good, 
 
 Almighty ! thine this universal frame, 
 
 Thus wondrous fair; Thyself how wonderous then ! 
 
 Unspeakable, who sit'st ahove these heavens 
 
 To us invisible, or dimly seen 
 
 In these thy lowest works ; yet these declare 
 
 Thy goodness beyond thought, and power divine. 
 
 Angels, for ye behold him, and with songs 
 
 And choral symphonies, day and night 
 
 Circle his throne rejoicing ; ye in heaven, 
 
 On earth join all ye creatures to extol 
 
 Him first, him last, him midst, and without end. 
 
 Fairest of stars, last in the train of night, 
 
 If better thou belong not to the dawn, 
 
 Sure pledge of day, that crown'st the smiling morn 
 
 With thy bright circlet, praise him in thy sphere, 
 
 While day arises, that sweet hour of prime. 
 
 Thou Sun, of this great world both eye and soul, 
 
 Acknowledge him thy greater, sound his praise 
 
 In thy eternal course, both when thou climb'st, 
 
 And when high noon hast gained, and when thou fall'st. 
 
 Moon, that now meet'st the orient Sun, now fly'st, 
 
 With the fixed Stars, fixed in their orb that flies; 
 
 And ye five other wandering Fires, that move 
 
 In mystic dance not without song, resound 
 
 His praise, who out of darkness called up light.
 
 re 
 
 11 
 
 Air and ye Elements, the eldest birth 
 
 Of nature's womb, that in quaternion run 
 
 Perpetual circle, multiform ; and mix 
 
 And nourish all things ; let your ceaseless change 
 
 Vary to our great Maker still new praise. 
 
 Ye Mists and Exhalations, that now rise 
 
 From hill and steaming lake, dusky and gray, 
 
 Till the Sun paints your fleecy skirts with gold; 
 
 In honour to the world's great Author rise ; 
 
 Whether to deck with clouds the uncoloured sky, 
 
 Or wet the thirsty earth with falling showers, 
 
 Rising or falling still advance his praise. 
 
 His praise, ye Winds, that from four quarters blow, 
 
 Breathe soft or loud; and wave your tops, ye Pines, 
 
 With every plant, in sign of worship, wave. 
 
 Fountains, and ye that warble, as ye flow, 
 
 Melodious murmurs, warbling tune his praise. 
 
 Join voices all ye living Souls ; ye Birds, 
 
 That singing up to Heaven-gate ascend, 
 
 Bear on your wings, and in your notes his praise 
 
 Ye that in waters glide, and ye that walk 
 
 The earth, and stately tread, or lowly creep; 
 
 Witness if I be silent, morn or even, 
 
 To hill or valley, fountain, or fresh shade, 
 
 Made vocal by my song, and taught his praise. 
 
 Hail, universal Lord ! be bounteous still 
 
 To give us only good ; and if the night 
 
 Have gathered aught of evil, or concealed, 
 
 Disperse il, as now light dispels the dark.
 
 12 
 
 D A RTO N 
 
 It was a lovely morning; — all was calm 
 As if creation, thankful for repose, 
 In renovated beauty, breathing balm 
 And blessedness around, from slumber rose, 
 Joyful once more to see the East unclose 
 Its gates of glory ; — yet subdu'd and mild, 
 Like the soft smile of patience amid woes 
 By hope and resignation reconciled, 
 That morning's beauty shone, that landscape's charm 
 beguiled. 
 
 The Heavens were marked by many a filmy streak, 
 Even in the orient ; and the sun shone through 
 Those lines, as Hope upon a mourner's cheek 
 Sheds, meekly chastened, her delightful hue. 
 From groves and meadows, all impearled with dew, 
 Rose silvery mists, — no eddying wind swept by, — 
 The cottage chimneys, half concealed from view 
 By their embowering foliage, sent on high 
 Their pallid wreaths of smoke unruffled to the sky. 
 
 And every gentle sound which broke the hush 
 Of morning's still serenity, was sweet; 
 The sky-lark over head ; the speckled thrush, 
 Who now had taken with delight his seat 
 Upon the slender larch, the day to greet;
 
 13 
 
 The starling, chattering to her callow young ; 
 And that monotonous lay, which seems to fleet 
 Like echo through the air, the cuckoo's song, 
 Was heard at times, far off, the leafy woods among. 
 
 Surrounded by such sights, and sounds, 1 stood, 
 
 Delighted auditor, spectator here ; 
 
 And gave full scope, in meditative mood, 
 
 To thoughts excited by a scene so fair : 
 
 Feeling renewedly how matchless are 
 
 The power and goodness of that Great Supreme 
 
 Who form'd and fashion'd all things to declare 
 
 Even to those who lightly of Him deem, 
 
 The beauty and the love of his creative scheme. 
 
 cow pew. 
 
 See, Nature gay, as when she first began 
 
 With smiles alluring her admirer man ; 
 
 She spreads the morning over eastern hills, 
 
 Earth glitters with the drops the night distils ; 
 
 The Sun obedient to her call appears, 
 
 To fling his glories o'er the robe she wears ; 
 
 Banks cloth'd with flowers, groves fill'd with sprightly 
 
 sounds, 
 Thy yellow tilth, green meads, rocks, rising grounds, 
 Streams edged with osier, fattening every field, 
 
 c
 
 14 
 
 Where'er they flow, now seen — and now conceal M ; 
 
 From the blue rim where skies and mountains meet, 
 
 Down to the very turf beneath thy feet, 
 
 Ten thousand charms that only fools despise 
 
 Or pride can look at with indifferent eyes 
 
 All speak one language — all with one sweet voice 
 
 Crv to her universal realm — Rejoice ! 
 
 HERBERT. 
 
 Sundays observe : think when the bells do chime 
 'Tis angels' music ; therefore come not late. 
 God then deals blessings. If a king did so, 
 AVho would not haste, nay give, to see the show. 
 
 Twice on the day his due is understood ; 
 For all the week thy food so oft he gave thee. 
 Thy cheer is mended ; bate not of the food, 
 Because 'tis better, and perhaps may save thee. 
 Thwart not the Almighty God : O be not cross ! 
 Fast when thou wilt, but then, 'tis gain, not loss. 
 
 Though private prayer be a brave design, 
 
 Yet public hath more promises, more love ; 
 
 And love's a weight to hearts, to eyes a sign. 
 
 We are but cold suitors : let us move 
 
 Where it is warmest. Leave thy six and seven : 
 
 Pray with the most ; for where most pray 'tis heaven.
 
 15 
 
 When once thy foot enters the church, be bare. 
 God is more there than thon : for thou art there 
 Only by his permission. Then beware, 
 And make thyself all reverence and fear. 
 Kneeling ne'er spoiled silk stocking : quit thy state. 
 All equal are within the church's gate. 
 
 Resort to sermons, but to prayers most : 
 Praying's the end of preaching. O be drest ! 
 Stay not for th' other pin : why thou hast lost 
 A joy for it, worth worlds. Thus hell doth jest 
 Away thy blessings, and extremely flout thee 
 Thy clothes being fast, but thy soul loose about thee. 
 
 In time of service seal up both thine eyes, 
 And send them to thine heart ; that spying sin, 
 They may weep out the stains by them did rise : 
 Those doors being shut, all by the ear comes in. 
 Who marks in church-time other's symmetry, 
 Makes all their beauty his deformity. 
 
 Let vain and busy thoughts have there no part : 
 Bring not thy plough, thy plots, thy pleasures thither. 
 Christ purged his Temple ; so must thou thy heart. 
 All worldly thoughts are but thieves met together 
 To cozen thee. Look to thy actions well : 
 For churches arc either our heaven or hell.
 
 16 
 
 Judge not the preacher, for he is thy judge ; 
 
 If thou mislike him, thou conceiv'st him not. 
 
 God calleth preaching folly. Do not grudge 
 
 To pick out treasures from an earthen pot. 
 
 The worst speak something good ; if all want sense, 
 
 God takes a text, and preaches patience. 
 
 He that gets patience, and the blessing which 
 Preachers conclude with, hath not lost his pains. 
 He that by being at church escapes the ditch 
 Which he might fall in with companions, gains. 
 He that loves God's abode, and to combine 
 With saints on earth, shall one day with them shine. 
 
 Jest not the preacher's language or expression ; 
 How know'st thou but thy sins made him miscarry ? 
 Then turn thy faults and his into confession : 
 God sent him, whate'er he be ; O tarry, 
 And love him for his Master : his condition, 
 Though it be ill, makes him no ill physician. 
 
 None shall in hell such bitter pangs endure, 
 As those who mock at God's way of salvation. 
 Whom oil and balsams kill, what salve can cure ? 
 They drink with greediness a full damnation. 
 The Jews refused thunder ; and we, — folly : 
 Though God do hedge us in, yet who is holy ?
 
 17 
 
 MERRICK. 
 
 Blest, who their strength on thee reclined, 
 Thy seat explore with constant mind, 
 And Salem's distant towers we view 
 With active zeal their way pursue : 
 Secure the thirsty vale they tread, 
 While call'd from out their sandy bed, 
 (As, down in grateful showers distill'd, 
 The Heavens their kindliest moisture yield) 
 The copious springs their steps beguile, 
 And bid the cheerless desert smile. 
 From stage to stage advancing still, 
 Behold them reach fair Sion's hill, 
 And, prostrate at her hallowed shrine, 
 Adore the Majesty divine. 
 
 M I L M A N. 
 
 For thou didst die for me, O Son of God ! 
 
 By thee the throbbing flesh of man was worn ; 
 
 Thy naked feet the thorns of sorrow trod, 
 
 And tempests beat thy houseless head forlorn. 
 Thou that were wont to stand 
 Alone on God's right hand, 
 
 Before the ages were, the Eternal, eldest born.
 
 18 
 
 Thy birth right in the world was pain and grief, 
 Thy love's return ingratitude and hate ; 
 The limbs thou healedst brought thee no relief, 
 The eyes thou openedst calmly view'd thy fate : 
 Thou, that wert wont to dwell 
 In peace tongue cannot tell, 
 Nor heart conceive the bliss of thy celestial state. 
 
 They dragg'd thee to the Romans' solemn hall, 
 Where the proud judge in purple splendour sate; 
 Thou stood'st a meek and patient criminal, 
 Thy doom of death from human lips to wait ; 
 
 Whose throne shall be the world 
 
 In final ruin hurl'd, 
 Willi all mankind to hear their everlasting fate. 
 
 Thou wert alone in that fierce multitude 
 When — Crucify him ! yell'd the general shout ; 
 Nor hand to guard thee 'mid those insults rude, 
 Nor lip to bless in all that frantic rout ; 
 
 Whose lightest whisper' d word 
 
 The Seraphim had heard, 
 And adamantine arms from all the heavens broke out.
 
 19 
 
 They bound thy temples with the twisted thorn, 
 Thy bruised feet went languid on with pain 
 The blood, from all thy flesh with scourges torn, 
 Deepen'd thy robe of mockery's crimson grain ; 
 Whose native vesture bright 
 Was the unapproached light 
 The sandal of whose foot the rapid hurricane. 
 
 They smote thy cheek with many a ruthless palm, 
 With the cold spear thy shuddering side they pierced ; 
 The draught of bitterest gall was all the balm 
 They gave 't'enhance thy unslaked burning thirst ; 
 
 Thou, at whose words of peace 
 
 Did pain and anguish cease, 
 And the long buried dead their bonds of slumber burst. 
 
 Low bow'd thy head convulsed, and droop'd in deal 
 Thy voice sent forth a sad and wailing cry ; 
 Slow struggled from thy breast thy parting breath 
 And every limb was wrung with agony ; 
 
 That head whose vailless blaze 
 
 Fill'd angels with amaze, 
 When at that voice sprung forth the rolling suns on high.
 
 20 
 
 And thou wert laid within the narrow tonih, 
 
 Thy clay-cold limbs with shrouding grave clothes bound ; 
 
 The sealed stone confirmed thy mortal doom, 
 
 Lone watchmen walked thy desert burial ground ; 
 
 Whom heaven could not contain 
 
 Nor th' immeasurahle plain 
 Of vast infinity enclose a circle round. 
 
 For us, lor us, thou didst endure the pain, 
 And thy meek spirit how'd itself to shame, 
 To wash our souls from sin's infecting stain, 
 T' avert the Father's wrathful vengeance flame ; 
 
 Thou, that could'st nothing win 
 
 By saving worlds from sin, 
 Nor aught of glory add to thy all glorious Name. 
 
 MAS O N. 
 
 Again returns the day of holy rest, 
 Which when he made the world Jehovah hlest, 
 When like his own he hade our labours cease 
 And all be piety and all be peace. 
 
 Let us devote this consecrated day 
 To learn his will, and all we learn obey ; 
 In pure Religion's hallowed duties share, 
 And join in penitence and join in prayer.
 
 •21 
 
 So shall the God of mercy pleas'd receive 
 That only tribute man has power to give, 
 So shall he hear whilst fervently we raise 
 Our choral harmony in hymns of praise 
 
 Father of Heaven, in whom our hopes confide, 
 Whose power protects us, and whose precepts guide; 
 In life our guardian, and in death our friend 
 Glory be given to thee, 'till time shall end. 
 
 BO WD LEE. 
 
 O God ! my heart within me faints, 
 And pours in sighs her deep complaints; 
 Yet many a thought shall linger still 
 By Carmel's height and Tabor's rill 
 The Olive Mount my Saviour trod, 
 The rocks that saw and own'd their God. 
 
 The morning beam that wakes the skies 
 Shall see my matin-incense rise ; 
 The evening seraphs, as they rove, 
 Shall catch the notes of joy and love ; 
 And sullen night, with drowsy ear, 
 The still-repealed anthem hear. 
 
 D
 
 •>-) 
 
 My soul shall cry to thee, O Lord ! 
 
 To thee supreme incarnate Word ! 
 
 My rock, my fortress, shield, and friend, 
 
 Creator, Saviour, source, and end ! 
 
 And thou wilt hear thy servant's prayer, 
 
 Though death and darkness speak despair. 
 
 Ah ! why, hy passing clouds opprest, 
 Should vexing thoughts distract thy breast i 
 Turn, turn to Him, in every pain, 
 Whom never suppliant sought in vain ; 
 Thy strength in joy's ecstatic day, 
 Thy hope when joy has passed away. 
 
 MONTG O MERY. 
 
 Prayer is the soul's sincere desire 
 Utter'd or unexpress'tl ; 
 
 The motion of an hidden fire 
 That trembles in the breast. 
 
 Prayer is the burden of a sigh, 
 
 The falling of a tear ; 
 The upward glancing of an eye, 
 
 When none but God is near.
 
 23 
 
 Prayer is the simplest form of speech 
 
 That infant lips can try ; 
 Prayer the sublimest strains that reach 
 
 The Majesty on high. 
 
 Prayer is the Christian's vital breath, 
 The Christian's native air, 
 
 His watchword at the gates of death : 
 He enters Heaven by prayer. 
 
 Prayer is the contrite sinner's voice, 
 Returning from his ways ; 
 
 While angels in their songs rejoice, 
 And say, " Behold, he prays !" 
 
 The saints in prayer, appear as one 
 In word, and deed, and mind 
 
 When with the Father, and the Son 
 Their fellowship they find. 
 
 Nor prayer is made on earth alone ; 
 
 The Holy Spirit pleads ; 
 And Jesus, on the eternal throne, 
 
 For sinners intercedes. 
 
 O Thou ! by whom we come to God, 
 The Life, the Truth, the Way ! 
 
 The path of prayer thyself hast trod : 
 Lord ! teach us how to pray.
 
 24 
 
 MONTGOMERY 
 
 Whence came I P — Memory cannot say ; 
 
 What am I ? — Knowledge will not shew ; 
 Bound whither ? Ah ! away, away, 
 
 Far as eternity can go : 
 
 Thy love to win, thy wrath to flee, 
 O God ! thyself mine helper be. 
 
 cow PER. 
 
 Scripture is the only cure of woe ; 
 That field of promise, how it flings abroad 
 Its odour o'er the Christian's thorny road ! 
 The soul, reposing on assur'd relief, 
 Feels herself happy amidst all her grief, 
 Forgets her labour as she toils along, 
 Weeps tears of joy, and bursts into a song. 
 
 n r o w N. 
 
 Hail, silent fields ! with your inhabitant, 
 Blest Contemplation ! friendly to the soul. 
 Yet grateful interruption may be here 
 By change admit; of flocks that bleating feed,
 
 25 
 
 And herds deep lowing, and the music shrill, 
 Heard round me, of the insects' buzzing winy, 
 And, loud, of early birds the varied charm. 
 These praise their Maker all, and lift in praise 
 The pious heart to join in Nature's prayer. 
 Nor things of voice alone, — each humid flower 
 Its incense breathes to thee, each dewy plant 
 And grassy spire, thick-strung with native pearl. 
 Almighty Father ! flocks, and herds, and birds 
 Insects, and flowers, and plants, all Nature's births, 
 All praise thy goodness, all — but thankless man ! 
 Man, most ungrateful ! most obliged of all ! 
 
 BURNS. 
 
 The cheerful supper done, with serious face, 
 
 They round the ingle form a circle wide; 
 The sire turns o'er, with patriarchal grace, 
 
 The big Ha'-Bible, once his father's pride : 
 
 His bonnet reverently is laid aside, 
 His lyart haffets wearing thin and bare ; 
 
 Those strains that once did sweet in Zion glide, 
 He wales a portion with judicious care, 
 And " Let us worship God" ! he says with solemn air,
 
 26 
 
 They chant their artless notes in simple guise; 
 
 They tune their hearts, by far the noblest aim ; 
 Perhaps Dundee's wild warbling measures rise, 
 
 Or plaintive Martyr's, worthy of the name; 
 
 Or noble Elgin's beats the heavenward flame, 
 The sweetest far of Scotia's holy lays. 
 
 Compared with these Italian trills are tame : 
 The tickled ear no heartfelt raptures raise ; 
 No unison have they with our Creator's praise. 
 
 The priest-like father reads the sacred page, 
 
 How Abraham was the friend of God on high ; 
 Or Moses bade eternal warfare wage 
 
 With Amalek's ungracious progeny ; 
 
 Or, how the royal hard did groaning lie 
 Beneath the stroke of Heaven's avenging ire ; 
 
 Or, Job's pathetic plaint and wailing cry; 
 Or, rapt Isaiah's wild seraphic fire ; 
 Or, other holy seers that tune the sacred lyre. 
 
 Perhaps the Christian Volume is the theme, 
 
 How guiltless blood for guilty man was shed ; 
 How he who bore in heaven the second name, 
 
 Had not on earth whereon to lay his head ; 
 
 How his first followers, and servants sped ; 
 The precepts sage they wrote to many a land ; 
 
 How he who lone in Patmos banished, 
 Saw in the Sun a mighty angel stand ; 
 And heard great Babylon's doom pronounced, by 
 Heaven's command.
 
 ■21 
 
 Then kneeling down, to heaven's eternal King 
 
 The saint the lather, and the husband prays; 
 Hope " springs exulting on triumphant wing," 
 
 That thus they all shall meet in future days; 
 
 There ever bask in uncreated rays, 
 No more to sigh, nor shed the bitter tear, 
 
 Together hymning their Creator's praise 
 In such society, yet still more dear, 
 While circling time moves round in an eternal sphere. 
 
 E DMESTO N. 
 
 Is there a time when moments flow 
 More lovelily than all beside? 
 
 It is, of all the times below, 
 
 A Sabbath eve in summer-tide. 
 
 Oh ! then the setting sun smiles fair, 
 And, all below and all above, 
 
 The different forms of nature wear 
 One universal garb of love. 
 
 Delightful scene ! a world at rest, 
 A God of love, no grief nor fear, 
 
 A heavenly hope, a peaceful breast, 
 A smile unsullied by a tear.
 
 28 
 
 If heaven be ever felt below 
 
 A scene so heavenly pure as this, 
 May cause a heart on earth to know 
 Some foretaste of celestial bliss. 
 
 Delightful hour ! how soon will night 
 
 Spread her dark mantle o'er thy reign ; 
 
 And morrow's quick returning light 
 Must call us to the world again. 
 
 Yet will there dawn, at last, a day ; 
 
 A sun that never sets shall rise ; 
 Night will not veil his ceaseless ray 
 
 The Heavenly Sabbath never dies. 
 
 MIL M A N. 
 
 Brother ! thou art gone before us, 
 
 And thy saintly soul is flown 
 Where tears are wip'd from every eye, 
 
 And sorrow is unknown ; 
 From the burden of the flesh, and 
 
 From care and fear releas'd, 
 Where the wicked cease from troubling, 
 
 And the weary are at rest.
 
 ■29 
 
 The toilsome way thou'st travell'il o'er, 
 
 And borne the heavy load ; 
 But Christ hath taught thy languid feet 
 
 To reach his blest abode. 
 Thou'rt sleeping now like Lazarus, 
 
 Upon his Father's breast, 
 " Where the wicked cease from troubling, 
 
 And the weary are at rest." 
 
 Sin can never taint thee now, 
 
 Nor doubt thy faith assail, 
 Nor the meek trust in Jesus Christ, 
 
 And the holy Spirit fail ; 
 And there thou'rt sure to meet the good, 
 
 Whom on earth thou lovedst best, 
 " Where the wicked cease from troubling, 
 
 And the weary are at rest." 
 
 " Earth to earth, and dust to dust" 
 
 The solemn priest hath said ; 
 So we lay the turf above thee now, 
 
 And we seal thy narrow bed : 
 But thy spirit, brother, soars 
 
 Among the faithful blest, 
 " Where the wicked cease from troubling, 
 
 And the weary are at rest." 
 
 E
 
 30 
 
 And when the Lord shall summon us, 
 
 Whom thou hast left behind, 
 May we untainted by the world, 
 
 As sure a welcome find ! 
 May each like thee, depart in peace, 
 
 To be a glorious guest 
 " Where the wicked cease from troubling-, 
 
 And the weary are at rest." 
 
 ANON. 
 
 The curling waves with awful roar 
 
 A little bark assail' d ; 
 And pallid fears' distracting power 
 
 O'er all on board prevail'd, 
 
 Save one, the Captain's darling child, 
 Who steadfast view'd the storm, 
 
 And cheerful, with composure smil'd 
 At danger's threat'ning form. 
 
 " And sport'st thou thus," a seaman cried, 
 " While terrors overwhelm P" 
 
 ' Why should I fear?' the boy reply'd, 
 ' My Father's at the elm.'
 
 31 
 
 So when our worldly all is reft, 
 Our earthly helper's gone, 
 
 We still have one sure anchor left, 
 God helps, and he alone. 
 
 He to our prayers will bend his ear, 
 He gives our pangs relief, 
 
 He turns to smile each trembling tear, 
 To joy each tort'ring grief. 
 
 Then turn to Him, 'mid sorrow wild, 
 When wants and woes overwhelm, 
 
 Rememb'riug, like the fearless child, 
 " Our Father's at the helm," 
 
 EPIPHANY.— Anon. 
 
 Brightest and best of the Sons of the Morning, 
 Dawn on our darkness, and lend us thy aid ; 
 
 Star of the East, the horizon adorning, 
 Guide where our infant Redeemer is laid. 
 
 Cold on his cradle, the dew-drops are shining 
 Low lies his head, with the beasts of the stall ; 
 
 Angels adore him in slumber reclining, 
 Maker and Monarch, and Saviour of all.
 
 32 
 
 Say, shall we yield hhn^in costly devotion, 
 Odours of Edoin, and offerings divine, 
 
 Gems of the mountain, and pearls of the ocean, 
 Myrrh from the forest, and gold from the mine ? 
 
 Vainly we offer each ample oblation, 
 
 Vainly with gold would his favour secure ; 
 
 Richer by far is the heart's adoration, 
 
 Dearer to God are the prayers of the poor. 
 
 HI SHOP HliBEK. 
 
 When sickness to my fainting soul, 
 Her fearless form displayed, 
 
 I to my secret chamber stole, 
 And humbly thus I pray'd. 
 
 " If soften'd by th' impending stroke 
 My heart O Lord ! will yield ; 
 
 In mercy thy decree revoke, 
 And let my wound be heal'd. 
 
 " But if from mem'ry's tablet soon, 
 
 Ingratitude would tear 
 The bounteous Giver and the boon, 
 
 Oh ! hear not thou my pray'r!
 
 33 
 
 " Rather than bear that blackest stain 
 Within my breast; — I'd brave 
 
 The keenest throb of restless pain ; 
 The terrors of the grave. 
 
 " If health's unmerited return 
 Should bless my future days, 
 
 Oh ! may I from thy Spirit learn 
 A daily song of praise. 
 
 " But should I shortly hence depart, 
 
 Or lingering, suffer still, 
 May that blest Spirit, Lord ! impart 
 
 Submission to thy will." 
 
 53id Chap. I S A I A II.— Anon. 
 
 Thou wast oppress'd my Saviour and my God ! 
 A dreary path thy painful footsteps trod ! 
 Thou wast despis'd of them whose ranc'rous hate, 
 Turn'd from the lowly meekness of thy state ! 
 A man of sorrows thou, to suft'ring born, 
 Did'st bear the blow, the mockery of scorn, 
 And, like the patient lamb, to slaughter led, 
 To shame and grief did'st bend thy sacred head !
 
 34 
 
 And we esteemed thee, in tJiy suffering, still 
 
 Afflicted by thy heavenly Father's will : 
 
 But 'twas to bear our burdens thou didst yield, 
 
 And by thy stripes were our transgressions heal'd. 
 
 O King of Glory ! did thy life blood flow 
 
 To save from ruin and eternal woe ? 
 
 Thou gav'st thy, soul, for us an off'ring made, 
 
 Thy precious blood our dear bought ransom paid, 
 
 And for thy sinful creatures thou didst drain 
 
 That bitter cup of agony and pain. 
 
 O, by thy passion's depth in that dread hour, 
 
 That saw thee 'whelm 5 d by Hell's tremendous pow'r, 
 
 By the large sweat drops falling from thy brow, 
 
 When thy meek head did to its burden bow, 
 
 By the sharp thorns thy bleeding temples wore, 
 
 And by the cross thy dying form that bore, 
 
 Lord, at my pray'rs, thy Spirit's aid impart, 
 
 And cleanse the faults of a polluted heart ! 
 
 Root from my bosom each corrupting sin, 
 
 Infuse the law of holiness within ; 
 
 Teach me to heaven, and happiness the way, 
 
 Thy Gospel how to love, and how t' obey : 
 
 To God, and thee my ransom'd sonl to give, 
 
 And, by the power of thy death, — to live.
 
 33 
 
 WALLER. 
 
 God's sacred name with reverence profound 
 Should mention'd be, and trembling- at the sound ! 
 It was Jehovah ! 'tis Our Father now : 
 So low to us does Heaven vouchsafe to bow ! 
 He brought it down, and taught us how to pray, 
 That did so dearly for our ransom pay. 
 
 His kingdom come. For this we pray in vain, 
 Unless he does in our affections reign. 
 Absurd it Mere to wish for such a King, 
 And not obedience to his Sceptre bring. 
 Whose yoke is easy, and his burden light ; 
 His service freedom, and his judgments right. 
 
 His wilt be done. In fact 'tis always done ; 
 I>ut us in heaven, it must be made our own. 
 His will should all our inclinations sway, 
 Whom Nature and the Universe obey. 
 
 Happy the man, whose wishes are conlin'd 
 To what has been eternally design'd : 
 Referring all to His paternal care, 
 To whom more dear, than to ourselves, vw are.
 
 3G 
 
 It it not what our avarice hoards up; 
 
 'Tis He that feeds us, and that tills our cup : 
 
 Like new horn babes, depending on the breast, 
 
 From day to day we on his bounty feast. 
 
 Nor should the soul expect above a day, 
 
 To dwell in her frail tenement of clay. 
 
 The setting-sun should seem to bound our race, 
 
 And the new-day a gift of special grace. 
 
 That He should all our trespasses forgive, 
 
 While we in hatred with our neighbours live, 
 
 Tho' we so pray may seem an easy task, 
 
 We curse ourselves, when thus inclin'd, we ask. 
 
 This prayer to use, we ought with equal care 
 
 Our souls, as to the sacrament, prepare. 
 
 The noblest worship of the power above, 
 
 Is to extol and imitate Ids love. 
 
 Not to forgive our enemies alone, 
 
 But use our bounty that they may be won. 
 
 Guard us from all temptations of the foe, 
 And those we may in several stations know 
 The rich and poor in slipp'ry places slam! ; 
 Give us enough : but with a sparing hand ! 
 Not all persuading want, nor wanton wealth, 
 But what proportion' d is to life and health. 
 For not the dead, but living, sing thy praise, 
 Exalt thy kingdom, and thy glory raise.
 
 :J? 
 
 c i > w v r. r. 
 
 Weak and irresolute is man : 
 
 The purpose of to-day, 
 Woven nith pains into his plan, 
 
 To-morrow rends away. 
 
 The bow well-bent, and smart the spring-, 
 
 Vice seems already slain ; 
 But passion rudely snaps the string, 
 
 And it revives again. 
 
 Some foe to his upright intent 
 
 Finds out his weaker part ; 
 Virtue engages his assent, 
 
 But Pleasure wins his heart. 
 
 'Tis here the folly of the wise 
 Through all his art we view ; 
 
 And while his tongue the charge denies, 
 His conscience owns it true. 
 
 Bound on a voyage of awful length, 
 
 And dangers little known, 
 A stranger to superior strength, 
 
 Man vainly trusts his own. 
 
 F
 
 38 
 
 But oars alone can ne'er prevail 
 To reach the distant coast; 
 
 The breath of heaven must swell the sail, 
 Or all the toil is lost. 
 
 PRIOR. 
 
 Did sweeter sounds adorn my flowing tongue, 
 Than ever man pronounc'cl or angel sung; 
 Had I all knowledge, human and divine, 
 That thought can reach, or science can define ; 
 And had I pow'r to give that knowledge birth 
 In all the speeches of the babbling earth : 
 Did Shadrach's zeal my glowing breast inspire 
 To weary tortures, and rejoice in fire ; 
 Or had I faith like that which Israel saw, 
 When Moses gave them miracles and law ; — 
 Yet, gracious Charity, indulgent guest ! 
 Were not thy pow'r exerted in my breast, 
 Those speeches would send up unheeded pray'r, 
 That scorn of Life would be but wild despair : 
 A cymbal's sound were better than my voice 
 My faith were form : my eloquence were noise. 
 Charity, — decent, modest, easy, kind, 
 Softens the high, and rears the abject mind,
 
 39 
 
 Knows with just reins, and gentle hand to guide 
 Betwixt vile shame, and arbitrary pride. 
 Not soon provok'd, she easily forgives ; 
 And much she suffers, as she much believes, 
 Soft Peace she brings, wherever she arrives, 
 She builds our quiet, as she forms our lives ; 
 Lays the rough paths of peevish nature ev'n, 
 And opens in each heart a little heav'n. 
 
 137th PSALM.— Crashaw. 
 
 On the proud banks of proud Euphrates' flood 
 
 There we sat and there we wept ; 
 Our harps, that now no music understood, 
 
 Nodding on the willows slept ; 
 
 Whilst unhappy captiv'd we, 
 
 Lovely Sion ! thought on thee. 
 
 They, they, that snatch'd us from our country's breast 
 
 Would have a song carv'd to their ears, 
 In Hebrew numbers, then, (O cruel jest !) 
 
 When harps and hearts were drown'd in tears. 
 
 " Come" they cried, " Come sing and play 
 
 One of Sion's songs to day."
 
 40 
 
 Sing ! Play ! to whom, ah ! shall we sing- or play, 
 
 If not Jerusalem to thee ? 
 Ah thee, Jerusalem ! ah, sooner may 
 
 This hand forget the mastery 
 
 Of music's dainty touch, than I 
 
 The music of thy memory. 
 
 Which when I lose, O ! may at once my tongue 
 
 Lose this same husy speaking art, 
 Unperch'd, — her vocal arteries unstrung, 
 
 No more acquainted with my heart, 
 
 On my dry palate's roof to rest 
 
 A wither'd leaf, an idle guest. 
 
 No, no, thy good Sion, alone must crown 
 The head of all my hope-nurs'd joys, 
 
 But Edom, cruel thou, thou cri'dst down, down; 
 Sink, Sion, down, and never rise ; 
 Her falling thou didst urge, and thrust, 
 And haste to dash her to the dust. 
 
 Dos't laugh ? proud Babel's daughter, do, laugh on, 
 Till thy ruin teach thee tears, 
 
 E'en such as these laugh, 'till a venging throng 
 Of woes too late do rouze thy fears : 
 Laugh, till thy children's bleeding bones 
 Weep precious tears upon thy stones.
 
 41 
 
 NOR DS WORTH. 
 
 Not seldom clad in radiant vest 
 Deceitfully goes forth the Morn ; 
 
 Nor seldom Ev'ning in the west 
 Sinks smilingly forsworn. 
 
 The smoothest seas will sometime prove 
 To the confiding hark untrue, 
 
 And if, she trusts the stars above, 
 They can be treach'rous too. 
 
 Th' umbrageous oak, in pomp outspread, 
 Full oft, when storms the welkin rend, 
 
 Draws lightening down upon the head 
 It promis'd to defend. 
 
 But Thou art true Incarnate Lord, 
 
 Who didst vouchsafe for man to die ; 
 
 Thy smile is sure, thy plighted word 
 No change can falsifv. 
 
 1 bent before thy gracious throne, 
 
 And tisk'd for peace with suppliant knee 
 
 And peace was given — nor peace alone, 
 But faith, and hope, and ecstacy.
 
 42 
 
 ANON. POEM. 
 
 () Thou, whose light when that of life departs, 
 
 The sparkling cynosure of drooping hearts ! 
 
 Whose smile can scatter flow'rs on Nature's tomb, 
 
 And breathe o'er wither' d hopes eternal bloom — 
 
 O thou that link'st the human with divine, 
 
 That light — Religion ! and that bloom are thine ! 
 
 When sorrows low'r, when health or pleasure fly, 
 
 Thou art the rainbow of our mental sky ! 
 
 Our Sun, our Solace, when the heart is wrung — 
 
 Balm to the bosom, when its peace is stung ! 
 
 Our lamp in darkness and our life in death — 
 
 A glory that survives th' arrested breath — 
 
 A living flow'r, the lightning cannot scathe — 
 
 The richest gem upon the robe of Faith ! 
 
 A crown of life from lengthen'd travail won — 
 
 The guide to glory when our course is run ! 
 
 A Pharos in the whelming breakers roar, 
 
 Lighting the weary to a welcome shore ! 
 
 Oh, thou art more than human thought can frame — 
 
 Than worlds can purchase — more than tongue can name ! 
 
 Thou light'st thy torch at life's expiring breath, 
 
 And plum'st thy wings upon the bed of death !
 
 43 
 
 COW PER. 
 
 It happen'd on a solemn eventide, 
 Soon after He that was our surety died, 
 Two bosom friends, each pensively inclin'd, 
 The scene of all those sorrows left behind, 
 Sought their own village — busied, as they went, 
 In musings worthy of the great event. 
 They spake of him they lov'd ; of him whose life 
 Though blameless, had incurr'd perpetual strife ; 
 Whose deeds had left, in spite of hostile arts, 
 A deep memorial graven on their hearts. 
 
 The recollection, like a vein of ore, 
 The farther trac'd, enrich'd them still the more : 
 They thought him, and they justly thought him, one 
 Sent to do more than he appear'd t' have done — 
 T' exalt a people, and to place them high 
 Above all else ; and wonder'd he should die. 
 Ere yet they brought their journey to an end, 
 A stranger join'd them, courteous as a friend, 
 And ask'd them, with a kind engaging air, 
 What their affliction was, and begg'd a share. 
 Inform'd, he gather'd up the broken thread, 
 And, truth and wisdom gracing all he said, 
 Explain'd, illustrated, and search'd so well
 
 44 
 
 The tender theme on which they chose to dwell, 
 
 That, leaching home — " The night, they said " is near 
 
 " We must not now be parted : sojourn here." 
 
 The new acquaintance soon became a guest, 
 
 And, made so welcome at their simple feast, 
 
 He bless'd the bread ; — but. vanish'd at the word, 
 
 And left them both exclaiming — " 'Twas the Lord ! 
 
 " Did not our hearts feel all he deign'd to say ? 
 
 " Did they not burn within us by the way ?" 
 
 GRAH AME 
 
 Now, when the downward sun has left the glens, 
 Each mountain's rugged lineaments are trae'd 
 Upon the adverse slope, where stalks gigantic 
 The shepherd's shadow , thrown athw art the chasm, 
 As on the topmost ridge he homeward hies. 
 How deep the hush ! The torrent's channel dry, 
 Presents a stony steep, the echo's haunt. 
 But, hark ! a plaintive sound floating along : 
 'Tis from yon heath roof'd shieling. Now it dies 
 Away, now rises full. It is the song 
 Which he, who listens to the hallelujahs 
 Of choiring Seraphim, delights to hear ;
 
 45 
 
 It is the music of the heart, the voice 
 Of venerable age, of guileless youth, 
 In kindly circle seated on the ground, 
 Before the wicker door. Behold the man 
 The grandsire and the saint ! before him lies, 
 Upon the smooth cropt sward, the open book, 
 His comfort, stav, and ever-new delight ! 
 While heedless, at his side the lisping boy 
 Fondles the lamb that nightly shares his couch. 
 
 EDMESTON. 
 
 The light of Sabbath Eve 
 
 Is fading fast away ; 
 What record will it leave 
 
 To crown the closing day ? 
 
 Is it a Sabbath spent 
 
 Fruitless, and vain, and void p 
 Or have these moments, lent, 
 
 Been sacredly employ'd ? 
 
 G
 
 4C 
 
 How dreadful and how drear, 
 In yon dark world of pain, 
 
 Will Sabbaths lost, appear 
 That cannot come again ! 
 
 God of these Sabbath hours, 
 Oh ! may we never dare 
 
 To waste in thoughts of ours 
 These sacred days of prayer. 
 
 ROLLESTON. 
 
 And he is present still. He still shall bless 
 
 The thorny path of life's rough wilderness. 
 
 He still bids springs of living water rise, 
 
 And heav'nly food with ceaseless care supplies. 
 
 And when by Death's cold stream we trembling stand, 
 
 The stream which bars us from the promis'd land, 
 
 His voice shall calm our fears, his hand shall guide 
 
 Our fainting footsteps through that fiercer tide, 
 
 And land us safely on our Canaan's shore, 
 
 Where toil, and tears, and death, are known no more.
 
 47 
 
 BARTON. 
 
 As when the silent Queen of Night 
 By silvery clouds surrounded, beams, 
 
 She does not vanish from our sight, 
 But to the eye still lovelier seems : 
 
 So round the dead does Memory fling 
 A halo, which endears them more, 
 
 And cherish* d feelings fondly cling 
 To what seems lovelier than before. 
 
 BO WRING. 
 
 Welcome the hour of sweet repose, 
 The Evening of the Sabbath day ! 
 
 In peace my wearied eyes shall close 
 When I have tuned my vesper lay, 
 
 In humble gratitude, to Him 
 
 Who wak'd the Morning's earliest beam.
 
 48 
 
 THOMSON. 
 
 When my breast labours, with oppressive care, 
 And o'er my cheek descends the falling tear ; 
 While all my warring- passions are at strife, 
 O, let me listen to the words of life ! 
 Raptures deep-felt, His doctrine did impart, 
 And thus he rais'd from earth the drooping heart. 
 
 Think not, when all your scanty stores afford, 
 Is spread at once upon the sparing board ; 
 Think not, when worn the homely robe appears, 
 While on the roof, the howling tempest bears; 
 What farther shall this feeble life sustain, 
 And what shall clothe these shiv'ring limbs again. 
 Say, does not life its nourishment exceed ? 
 And the fair body, — its investing weed ? 
 
 Behold, and look away your low despair — 
 See the light tenants of the barren air : 
 To them, nor stores, nor granaries, belong, 
 Nought but the woodland, and the pleasing song ; 
 Yet, your kind heav'nly Father bends His eye 
 On the least wing that flits alone;- the skv.
 
 49 
 
 To Him they sing, when Spring renews the plain, 
 To Him they cry, in Winter's pinching reign ; 
 Nor is their music, nor their plaint in vain : 
 He hears the gay, and the distressful call, 
 And with unsparing bounty fills them all. 
 
 Observe the lily's snowy grace, 
 
 Observe the various vegetable race ; 
 
 They neither toil, nor spin, but careless grow, 
 
 Yet see how warm they blush ! how bright they glow ! 
 
 What regal vestments can with them compare ! 
 
 What king so shining ! or what cpieen so fair ! 
 
 If ceaseless, thus the fowls of heav'n He feeds, 
 
 If o'er the fields such lucid robes He spreads; 
 
 Will He not care for you, ye faithless, say ? 
 
 Is He unwise ? or, are ye less than they ? 
 
 14>th PSALM.-Ogilvie. 
 
 Begin, my soul, th' exalted lay, 
 Let each enraptur'd thought obey, 
 
 And praise th' Almighty's name. 
 l,o ! heaven and earth, and seas and skies, 
 In one melodious concert rise, 
 
 To swell th' inspiring theme.
 
 50 
 
 Ye fields oi' light, celestial plains, 
 
 \\ here gay transporting beauty reigns, 
 
 Ye scenes divinely fair; 
 Your Maker's wond'rous power proclaim, 
 Tell how He form'd your shining frame, 
 
 And breath'd the fluid air. 
 
 Ye angels, catch the thrilling sound ; 
 While all the adoring thrones around 
 
 His boundless mercy sing ; 
 Let ev'ry list'ning saint above 
 Wake all the tuneful soul of love, 
 
 And touch the sweetest string. 
 
 Join, ye loud spheres, the vocal choir; 
 Thou, dazzling orb of liquid fire, 
 
 The mighty chorus aid : 
 Soon as grey ev'ning gilds the plain, 
 Thou moon, protract the melting strain, 
 
 And praise Him in the shade. 
 
 Thou, heav'n of heav'ns, His vast abode ; 
 Ye clouds, proclaim your forming God, 
 
 Who call'd yon worlds from night; 
 " Ye shades dispel" ! — Th' Eternal said ; 
 At once th' involving darkness fled, 
 
 And nature sprung to light.
 
 51 
 
 Whate'er a blooming- world contains, 
 That wings the air, that skims the plains, 
 
 United praise bestow ; 
 Ye dragons, sound His awful name 
 To heaven aloud; and roar acclaim. 
 
 Ye swelling deeps below. 
 
 Let ev'ry element rejoice : 
 
 Ye thunders, burst with awful voice 
 
 To Him who bids you roll ; 
 Ye stormy winds, a chorus raise, 
 Ye balmy zephyrs, breathe His praise 
 
 In whispers to the soul. 
 
 To Him, ye graceful cedars, bow ; 
 Ye tow'ring mountains, bending low, 
 
 Your great Creator own ; 
 Tell, when affrighted nature shook, 
 How Sinai kindled at His look, 
 
 And trembled at His frown. 
 
 Ye flocks, that haunt the humble vale, 
 Ye insects, fluttering on the gale, 
 
 Some grateful off'ring pay ; 
 Join the great hymn, ye warbling throng, 
 To Him awake the heav'nly song, 
 
 And tune the melting lay.
 
 52 
 
 Let man, by nobler passions sway'd, 
 The feeling heart, the judging head 
 
 In heav'nly praise employ ; 
 Spread His tremendous name around, 
 'Till heaven's broad arch rings back the sound, 
 
 The gen'ral burst of joy. 
 
 Ye, whom the charms of grandeur please, 
 Nurs'd on the downy lap of ease, 
 
 Fall prostrate at His throne : 
 Ye princes, rulers, all adore; 
 Praise Him ye kings, who makes your pow'r 
 
 An image of his own. 
 
 Ye fair, by nature form'd to move, 
 O praise th' eternal source of love, 
 
 With youth's enliv'ning fire : 
 Let age take up the tuneful lay, 
 Sigh His bless'd name — then soar away, 
 
 And ask an angel's lyre. 
 
 MRS. CARTER. 
 
 Author of life ! in vain my tongue essays, 
 For life's immortal gift to speak Thy praise ! 
 How shall my heart its grateful sense reveal, 
 When all the energy of words must fail ?
 
 53 
 
 O may its influence in my life appear, 
 
 And ev'ry action prove my thanks sincere ! 
 
 Grant me, O God, a heart to Thee inclin'd, 
 
 Increase my faith, and rectify my mind: 
 
 Teach me betimes to tread Thy sacred ways, 
 
 And to Thy service consecrate my days. 
 
 Still, as thro' life's perplexing maze I stray, 
 
 Be thou the guiding star to mark my way, 
 
 Conduct the steps of my unguarded youth, 
 
 And point their motions to the paths of truth. 
 
 Protect me by Thy Providential care, 
 
 And warn my soul to shun the tempter's snare. 
 
 Thro' each event of this inconstant state, 
 
 Preserve my temper ecpial and sedate. 
 
 Give me a mind that nobly can despise 
 
 The low designs and little arts of vice. 
 
 Be my Religion, such as taught by Thee, 
 
 Alike from pride and superstition free. 
 
 Inform my judgment, regulate my will, 
 
 My reason strengthen, and my passions still. 
 
 Amidst the pleasures of a prosp'rous state, 
 
 Whose flatt'ring charms th' untutor'd heart elate ; 
 
 May I reflect to whom those gifts I owe, 
 
 And bless the bounteous hand from whence they flow. 
 
 Or, if an adverse fortune be my share, 
 
 Let not its terrors tempt me to despair ; 
 
 But fix'd on Thee a steady faith maintain. 
 
 And own all good, which Thy decrees ordain ; 
 
 On thy unfailing Providence depend, 
 
 The best Protector, and the surest Friend. 
 
 H
 
 54 
 
 ANON- 
 
 In ev'ry place, at ev'ry hour, 
 
 Though poor my worship be, 
 In weal and woe, in shine and show'r, 
 
 Lord, I worship Thee. 
 
 I worship Thee in Fear, by night, 
 
 And thoughts of death employ ; 
 But soon as beams the glorious light, 
 
 1 worship Thee in Joy. 
 
 In Wonder, Lord, I worship thee, 
 
 When on thy works I gaze ; 
 So various, lovely, vast they are, 
 
 I pause in deep amaze. 
 I worship Thee in Hope, when low, 
 
 Each daily care I prove : 
 And when rich fields with fulness flow, 
 
 I worship Thee in Love. 
 
 When thunders roll, and whirlwinds fly, 
 
 I worship Thee in Awe, 
 And praise, as clears the glorious sky, 
 
 Thy Mercy, Love, and Law. 
 Tims ev'ry hour, in ev'ry place 
 
 Though poor my worship be, 
 In Fear, Love, Wonder, Joy, and Praise 
 
 O Lord, I worship Thee.
 
 ADVENT.— Anon. 
 
 The Lord shall come, the earth shall quake, 
 The hills their fixed seats forsake ; 
 And withering from the vault of night, 
 The stars shall pale their feeble light. 
 
 The Lord shall come ! but not the same 
 As once in lowly guise he came, 
 A silent Lamb before His foes, 
 A weary Man and full of woes. 
 
 The Lord shall come, a dreadful form, 
 With rainbow wreath and robes of storm, 
 On cherub wings and wings of wind, 
 Anointed Judge of human kind. 
 
 Can this be he, who wont to stray, 
 A pilgrim on the world's high-way, 
 Oppress' d by pow'r, and mock'd by pride, 
 Is this, is this, the crucified ? 
 
 Now pride and pow'r astonish'd fly 
 The terrors of his alter'd eye ; 
 While Faith, ascending from the tomb, 
 In triumph shouts " The Lord is come."
 
 56 
 
 MERRICK. 
 
 God of my heart, whose tender care 
 
 First gave me pow'r to move, 
 How shall my thankful heart declare 
 
 The wonders of Thy love ? 
 While void of thought and sense I lay, 
 
 Dust of my parent earth, 
 Thy breath inform' d my sleeping clay, 
 
 And call'd me to the birth. 
 
 From Thee the parts their fashion took 
 
 And, ere my life begun, 
 Within the volume of Thy book 
 
 Were written one by one ; 
 Thine eye beheld in open view 
 
 The yet unfinish'd plan, 
 The shadowy lines Thy pencil drew, 
 
 And form'd the future man. 
 
 Oh ! may this frame, which rising grew 
 
 Beneath Thy plastic hands, 
 Be studious ever to pursue 
 
 Whate'er Thy will commands. 
 The soul which moves this earthly load, 
 
 Thy semblance let it bear, 
 Nor lose the traces of the God 
 
 Who stamp 'd His image there.
 
 i>7 
 
 ANON. 
 
 Beauty complete, and majesty divine,. 
 
 In all Thy works, ador'd Creator shine. 
 
 Where'er I cast my wond'ring eyes around, 
 
 The God I seek in ev'ry path is found. 
 
 Pursuing Thee, the flow'ry fields I trace, 
 
 And read Thy name in ev'ry spire of grass, 
 
 I follow Thee thro' many a lovely shade, 
 
 And find Thee in th' solitary glade. 
 
 I meet Thee in the kind refreshing gale, 
 
 That gently passes, thro' the dewy vale. 
 
 The pink, the jasmine, and the purple rose, 
 
 Perfum'd by Thee their fragrant leaves disclose. 
 
 The feather'd choir, that welcome in the Spring, 
 
 By Thee were taught their various notes to sing. 
 
 By Thee the Morning in her crimson vest 
 
 And ornaments of golden clouds, is drest. 
 
 The Sun in all his splendour, wears Thy beams, 
 
 And drinks in light from Thy exhaustless streams. 
 
 The Moon reveals Thee by her glimm'ring ray ; 
 
 Unnumber'd Stars Thy glorious path display. 
 
 Amidst the solemn darkness of the night, 
 
 The thoughts of God my musing soul delight. 
 
 Thick shades and night Thy dread pavilion form ; 
 
 In state Thou rid'st upon the flying storm ; 
 
 While Thy strong hand its fiercest rage restrains. 
 
 And holds the wild unmanag'd winds in reins.
 
 58 
 
 What sparklings of Thy majesty appear, 
 When thro' the firmament swift lightnings glare ! 
 When peals of thunder fill the skies around, 
 I hear Thy voice in the tremendous sound. 
 But, oh ! how small a part is known of Thee, 
 From all Thy works' immense variety. 
 Whatever mortal men perfection name, 
 Thou, in an infinite degree, dost claim. 
 
 And while I here Thy faintest shadows trace, 
 
 1 pine to see the glories of Thy face ; 
 
 Where beauty, in its never-changing height 
 
 And uncreated excellence, shines bright. 
 
 When shall the heav'nly scene, without controul, 
 
 Open in dazzling triumph on my soul ? 
 
 My pow'rs, with all their ardour, shall adore, 
 
 And languish for terrestrial charms no more. 
 
 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.
 
 59 
 
 No colli neglect the faithful heart repays, 
 Whose steadfast 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 soothe its latest agonies to rest. 
 
 BISHOP HORNE. 
 
 Sweet day, so cool, so calm, so blight, 
 
 Bridal of earth and sky, 
 The clew shall weep thy fall to-night ; 
 
 For thou, alas ! must die. 
 
 Sweet rose, in air whose odours wave, 
 And colour charms the eye, 
 
 Thy root is ever in its grave, 
 And thou, alas ! must die. 
 
 Sweet Spring, of days and roses made, 
 Whose charms for beauty vie, 
 
 Thy days depart, thy roses fade, 
 Thou too, alas ! must die.
 
 00 
 
 Be wise then, Christian, while you may, 
 
 For swiftly time is flying; 
 The thoughtless man, that laughs to-daj , 
 
 To-morrow will he dying. 
 
 PARNEL L. 
 
 Lovely, lasting peace of mind, 
 
 Sweet delight of human kind ! 
 
 Whither, O whither art thou fled, 
 
 To lay thy meek contented head ? 
 
 Lovely lasting Peace appear ! 
 
 This world itself, if thou art here, 
 
 Is once again with Eden hless'd, 
 
 And man contains it, in his breast. 
 
 'Twas thus as under shade 1 stood, 
 
 I sung my wishes to the wood, 
 
 And lost in thought, no more perceiv'd 
 
 The branches whisper as they wav'd: 
 
 It seem'd, as all the quiet place 
 
 Confess' d the presence of the Grace ; 
 
 When thus she spoke — " Go, rule thy will, 
 
 " Bid thy wild passions all be still, 
 
 " Know God, and bring thy heart to know 
 
 " The joys which from Religion flow : 
 
 " Then ev'ry grace shall prove its guest, 
 
 " And I'll be there to crown the rest."
 
 til 
 
 s V E N (' E It. 
 
 O Thou most blessed Spirit, pure lampe of light, 
 Eternal .spring of grace and wisdoine true, 
 
 Vouchsafe to shed into my barren spright 
 Some little drop of thy celestial dew, 
 That may my rimes with sweet infuse embrew, 
 
 And give me words equall unto my thought. 
 
 To tell the marveiles by thy mercy wrought. 
 
 Rouze, lift thyself, O earth, out of thy soyle, 
 In which thou wallow'st like to filthy swine, 
 
 And do'st thy mind in durty pleasures moyle 
 Unmindful of that dearest Lord of thine ; 
 Lift up to him thy heavy clouded eyne, 
 
 That thou His soveraigne bounty maist heboid, 
 
 And read through love His mercies manifold. 
 
 Begin from first where He encradled was 
 In simple cratch, wrapt in a wad of hay, 
 
 Between the toyleful oxe, and humble asse, 
 And in what rags, and in how base array 
 The glory of our heavenly riches lay, 
 
 When Him the silly shepheards came to see, 
 
 Whom greatest princes sought on lowest knee. 
 
 i
 
 62 
 
 From thence read on the story of His life, 
 His humble carriage, His unfaulty wades, 
 
 His cancred foes, His fights, His toyle, His strife, 
 His pains, His poverty, His sharp assays, 
 Through which he past his miserable dayes, 
 
 Offending none, and doing good to alle, 
 
 Yet being malic'd both of great and small. 
 
 And look at last, how of most wretched wights 
 He taken was, betray'd, and false accused, 
 How with most scornful taunts, and fell despights 
 He was reviPd, disgrac'd, and foul abused, 
 How scourged, how crown'd, how buffeted, how 
 brused : 
 And lastly, how 'twixt robbers crucifide 
 With bitter wounds, through hands, through feet, 
 through side. 
 
 Then let thy flinty heart, that feels no pain, 
 Empierced be with pitiful remorse, 
 
 And let thy bosom bleed in ev'ry vein 
 
 At sight of His most sacred heav'nly corse 
 So torn and mangled with malicious force ; 
 
 And let thy soul, whose sins his sorrows wrought, 
 
 Melt into tears, and grone, in grieved thought.
 
 <>3 
 
 With sense whereof, whilst so thy softened spirit 
 Is inly tonch'd, and humbled with meek zeal 
 
 Through meditation of His endless merit, 
 
 Lift up thy mind to the Author of thy weal, 
 And to His soveraign mercy do appeal ; 
 
 Learn Him to love, that loved thee so dear, 
 
 And in thy breast His blessed image bear. 
 
 ROBERTS. 
 
 But on the right 
 A chosen band appears, who fought beneath 
 The banner of Jehovah and defied 
 Satan's united legions. Some, (unmov'd 
 At the grim tyrant's frown,) o'er barb'rous climes 
 Diffused the Gospel's Light; some, long immur'd 
 (Sad servitude !) in chains and dungeons pin'd ; 
 Or rack'd with all the agonies of pain 
 Breathed out their faithful lives. 
 
 Here is that fav'rite band whom Mercy mild 
 God's best lov'd attribute adorn'd : whose gate 
 Stood ever open to the stranger's call ;
 
 64 
 
 Who fed the hungry ; to the thirsty lip 
 
 Reached out the friendly cup; whose care benign 
 
 From the rude, blast secur'd the pilgrim's side ; 
 
 Who heard the widow's tender tale ; and shook 
 
 The galling shackle from the prisoner's feet ; 
 
 Who each endearing tye, each office knew 
 
 Of meek-ey'd heaven-descended Chanty. 
 
 O Charity, thou nymph divinely fair ! 
 
 Sweeter than those whom ancient poets bound 
 
 In Amity's indissoluble chain, 
 
 The Graces ! How shall I essay to paint 
 
 Thy charms, celestial maid ; and in rude verse 
 
 Blazon those deeds thyself didst ne'er reveal ? 
 
 For thee nor rankling Envy can infect, 
 
 Nor Rage transport, nor high o'erweening Pride 
 
 Puff up with vain-conceit : ne'er didst thou smile 
 
 To see the sinner as a verdant tree 
 
 Spread his luxuriant branches o'er the stream ; 
 
 While like some blasted trunk the righteous fall, 
 
 Prostrate, forlorn. When prophecies shall fail, 
 
 When tongues shall cease, when knowledge is no more, 
 
 And His great Day is come : thou by the throne 
 
 Shalt sit triumphant. 
 
 Conduct my steps, safe from the fiery gulph 
 And dark abyss, where Sin and Satan reign I
 
 65 
 
 KIKK WHITE. 
 
 When, marshall'd on the nightly plain, 
 
 The glitt'ring host bestud the sky, 
 One star alone, of all the train, 
 
 Can fix the sinner's wand'ring eye. 
 Hark ! hark ! to God the chorus breaks 
 
 From ev'ry host, from ev'ry gem ; 
 But one alone the Saviour speaks; 
 
 It is the Star of Bethlehem. 
 
 Once on the raging seas I rode ; 
 
 The storm was loud, the night was dark, 
 The ocean yawn'd — and rudely blow'd 
 
 The wind that toss'd my found'ring bark. 
 Deep horror then my vitals froze : 
 
 Death-struck, I ceas'd the tide to stem : 
 When suddenly a star arose ; 
 
 It was the Star of Bethlehem. 
 
 It was my guide, my light, my all ; 
 
 It bade my dark forebodings cease; 
 And, through the storm and danger's thrall, 
 
 It led me to the port of peace. 
 Now safely moor'd, my perils o'er 
 
 I sing, first in night's diadem, 
 For ever, and for evermore, 
 
 The Star! the star of Bethlehem.
 
 06 
 
 BRIDGES. 
 
 Dear is the shadowy close of day to me : 
 
 The hour of silence and the hour of rest, 
 Which brings the weary where they sigh to be, 
 
 And sends the turtle to her downy nest ; 
 
 Gives the fair infant to its mother's breast, 
 Lures home the wanderer (if a home he knows) 
 
 Shuts up the busy hours, and o'er the west 
 A fading robe of dying glory throws, 
 Signal for toil to cease, and yield to soft repose. 
 
 But dearer far a Christian's trembling eye 
 
 Deems of his sojourn here, the later hours; 
 When Faith's refulgence, falling from the skies, 
 
 Her golden radiance o'er his sunset showers. 
 
 What though the passing cloud a moment lowers, 
 Sweet is the thought of ceaseless rest in heaven ; 
 
 That fairer land than ever Eden's bowers, 
 Where sin is sown not, and whence woe is driven, 
 And of all sorrows past, forgetfulness is given.
 
 67 
 
 YOUN G. 
 
 Thou, who didst put to flight 
 
 Primaeval silence, when the morning stars 
 
 Exulting shouted o'er the rising ball ; 
 
 O Thou ! whose word from solid darkness struck 
 
 That spark, the sun, strike wisdom from my soul ; 
 
 My soul, which flies to thee, her trust, her treasure, 
 
 As misers to their gold, while others rest. 
 
 BRO W N. 
 
 When at the limits of my final stage, 
 
 The pilgrim just at home, with nought but Death, 
 
 That intercepting Jordan, in my way ; 
 
 Instant its gulfy waves about to pass : — 
 
 Be then my eve all hush'd, as summer-calms ! 
 
 Clear, without vapour, let my sun go down, 
 
 A setting brightness ! — 'till on Canaan's shore 
 
 My feet shall rest : Emmanuel's promis'd land.
 
 68 
 
 M J I. TON. 
 
 Millions of spiritual creatures walk the earth 
 Unseen, hoth when we wake and when we sleep ; 
 All these with ceaseless praise His works behold 
 Both day and night : how often, from the steep 
 Of echoing hill or thicket, have we heard 
 Celestial voices, to the midnight air, 
 Sole, or responsive each to other's note, 
 Singing their great Creator ? oft in bands 
 While they keep watch, or nightly rounding walk, 
 With heavenly touch of instrumental sounds 
 In full harmonic number joined, their songs 
 Divide the night, and lift our thoughts to heaven. 
 
 BE ATTIE. 
 
 Along yon glittering sky what glory streams ! 
 
 What majesty attends night's lovely queen ! 
 Fair laugh our valleys in the vernal beams ; 
 
 And mountains rise, and oceans roll between, 
 
 And all conspire to beautify the scene. 
 But, in the mental world, what chaos drear ! 
 
 What forms of mournful, loathsome, furious mein 
 O when shall that eternal morn appear, 
 Those dreadful forms to chase, this chaos dark to clear
 
 69 
 
 O thou, at whose creative smile yon heaven, 
 In all the pomp of beauty, life, and light, 
 
 Rose from the abyss; when dark confusion driven 
 Down, down the bottomless profound of night, 
 Fled, where he ever flees thy piercing sight ! 
 
 O glance on these sad shades one pitying ray, 
 To blast the fury of oppressive might ! 
 
 Melt the hard heart to love and mercy's sway, 
 
 And cheer the wand'ring soul, and light him on his way ! 
 
 BISHOP HEBF.lt. 
 
 Yes, Salem ! thou shalt rise : thy Father's aid 
 Shall heal the wound his chastening hand has made ; 
 Shall judge the proud oppressor's ruthless sway, 
 And burst his brazen bonds, and cast his cords away. 
 Then on your tops shall deathless verdure spring : 
 Break forth ye mountains, and ye vallies sing ! 
 No more your thirsty rocks shall frown forlorn, 
 The unbeliever's jest, the heathen's scorn ; 
 The sultry sands shall tenfold harvests yield, 
 And a new Eden deck the thorny field. 
 E'en now, perhaps, wide waving o'er the land, 
 The mighty Angel lifts his golden wand ; 
 Courts the bright vision of descending power, 
 Tells every gate, and measures every tower ; 
 
 K
 
 ro 
 
 And chides the tardy seals that yet detain 
 Thy Lion, Judah, from his destin'd reign. 
 
 And who is He, the vast, the awful form, 
 Girt with the whirlwind, sandaPd with the storm ? 
 A western cloud around his limbs is spread, 
 His crown a rainbow, and a sun his head. 
 To highest heaven he lifts his kingly hand, 
 And treads at once the ocean and the land ; 
 And hark ! his voice amid the thunder's roar, 
 His dreadful voice — that Time shall he no more ! 
 Lo ! cherub-hands, the golden courts prepare, 
 Lo ! thrones are set, and every saint is there ; 
 Earth's utmost hounds confess their awful sway ; 
 The mountains worship, and the isles obey : 
 Nor sun nor moon they need — nor clay nor night ; 
 God is their temple, and the Lamb their light. 
 And shall not Israel's sons exulting come, 
 Hail the glad beam, and claim their ancient home ? 
 On David's throne shall David's offspring reign, 
 And the dry bones be warm with life again. 
 Hark ! white robed crowds their deep hosannas raise, 
 And the hoarse flood repeats the sound of praise ; 
 Ten thousand harps attune the mystic song, 
 Ten thousand thousand saints the strain prolong : 
 " Worthy the Lamb ! omnipotent to save, 
 Who died, who lives, triumphant o'er the grave !"
 
 71 
 
 COWPER. 
 
 Oh ! scenes surpassing fable, and yet true ! 
 Scenes of accomplish' d bliss ! winch who can see, 
 Though but in distant prospect, and not feel 
 His soul refresh'd with foretaste of the joy ? 
 Rivers of gladness water all the earth, 
 And clothe all climes with beauty : the reproach 
 Of barrenness is past. The fruitful field 
 Laughs with abundance; and the land, once lean, 
 Or fertile only in its own disgrace, 
 Exults to see its thirsty curse repeal'd. 
 The various seasons woven into one, 
 And that one season an eternal spring, 
 The garden fears no blight, and needs no fence, 
 For there is none to covet — all are full. 
 The lion, and the leopard, and the bear 
 Graze with the fearless flocks; all bask at noon 
 Together, or all gambol in the shade 
 Of the same grove, and drink one common stream. 
 
 Antipathies are none. No foe to man 
 Lurks in the serpent now : the mother sees, 
 And smiles to see, her infant's playful hand 
 Stretch' d forth to dally with the crested worm,
 
 72 
 
 To stroke his azure neck, or to receive 
 
 The lambient homage of his arrowy tongue. 
 
 All creatures worship man, and all mankind 
 
 One God, one Father. Error has no place : 
 
 That creeping pestilence is driven away ; 
 
 The breath of Heaven has chased it. In the heart 
 
 No passion touches a discordant string, 
 
 But all is harmony and love. Disease 
 
 Is not : the pure and uncontaminate blood 
 
 Holds its due course, nor fears the frost of age. 
 
 One song employs all nations ; and all cry, 
 
 " Worthy the Lamb, for he was slain for us !" 
 
 BISHOP H E B E R 
 
 From Greenland's icy mountains, 
 
 From India's coral strand, 
 Where Afric's sunny fountains 
 
 Roll down their golden sand ; 
 From many an ancient river, 
 
 From many a palmy plain,— 
 They call us to deliver 
 
 Their land from error's chain.
 
 r.i 
 
 What though the spicy breezes 
 Blow soft on Ceylon's isle, 
 
 Though every prospect pleases, 
 And only man is vile : 
 
 In vain with lavish kindness 
 The gifts of God are strewn, 
 
 The heathen in his blindness 
 . Bows down to wood and stone. 
 
 Shall we, whose souls are lighted 
 
 With wisdom from on high, 
 Shall we, to man benighted 
 
 The lamp of life deny ? 
 Salvation ! oh, Salvation ! 
 
 The joyful sound proclaim, 
 Till each remotest nation 
 
 Has learnt Messiah's name. 
 
 Waft, waft, ye winds, his story, 
 And you, ye waters, roll, 
 
 Till, like a sea of glory, 
 
 It spreads from pole to pole ; 
 
 Till o'er our ransom'd nature 
 The Lamb for sinners slain, 
 
 Redeemer, King, Creator, 
 In bliss returns to reign.
 
 74 
 
 D R U M 1SI O N D. 
 
 A voice from the desert comes awful and shrill, 
 " The Lord is advancing — prepare ye the way ; 
 
 The Word of Jehovah, he comes to fulfil, 
 
 And o'er the dark world pour the splendour of day. 
 
 " Bring- down the proud mountain, though tow'ring to 
 heaven ; 
 
 And he the lone valley exalted on high; 
 The rough path and crooked he made smooth and even, 
 
 For, Sion ! your King, your Redeemer is nigh. 
 
 " The beams of salvation his progress illume, 
 The lone dreary wilderness sings of her God ! 
 
 The rose and the myrtle shall suddenly bloom, 
 
 And the olive of peace spread its branches abroad." 
 
 M 1 1. M A N. 
 
 Sing to the Lord ! no more the angels fly, 
 Far in the bosom of the stainless sky, 
 
 The sound of fierce licentious sacrifice. 
 From shrined alcove, and stately pedestal, 
 The marble gods in cumbrous ruin fall, 
 
 Headless in dust the awe of nations lies ; 
 Jove's thunder crumbles in his mouldering hand, 
 And mute as sepulchres the hymnless temples stand.
 
 70 
 
 Sing to the Lord ! from damp prophetic cave 
 No more the loose-hair'cl Sybyls burst and rave ; 
 
 Nor watch the augurs pale the wandering bird : 
 No more on hill or in the murky wood, 
 'Mid frantic shout, and dissonant music rude, 
 
 In human tones are wailing victims heard ; 
 Nor fathers, by the reeking altar-stone, 
 Cowl their dark heads, t' escape their children's dying 
 groan. 
 
 Sing to the Lord ! no more the dead are laid 
 In cold despair beneath the cypress shade, 
 
 To sleep the eternal sleep that knows no morn : 
 There, eager still to burst death's biazen hands, 
 The Angel of the Resurrection stands ; 
 
 While, on his own immortal pinions borne, 
 Following the Breaker of the imprisoning tomb, 
 Forth springs the exulting soul, and Minus awaj iis 
 gloom. 
 
 Sing to the Lord ! the desert rocks break out, 
 And the throng'd cities, in one gladdening shout ; 
 
 The farthest shores hy pilgrim step explored ; 
 Spread all your wings, ye winds, and waft around, 
 Even to the starry cope's pale waning bound, 
 
 Earth's universal homage to the Lord ; 
 Lift up thine head, imperial Capitol, 
 Proud on thy height to see the banner'd cross enroll.
 
 7« 
 
 Sing to the Lord ! when Time itself shall cease, 
 And final ruin's desolating peace 
 
 Enwrap this wide and restless world of man ; 
 When the Judge rides upon the enthroning wind, 
 And o'er all generations of mankind 
 
 Eternal vengeance waves its winnowing fan ; 
 To vast Infinity's remotest space, 
 While ages run their everlasting race, 
 Shall all the heatific hosts prolong, [ son g ' 
 
 Wide as the glory of the Lamb, the Lamb's triumphant 
 
 THOMSON. 
 
 Be hush'd the prostrate world ! 
 While cloud to cloud returns the solemn hymn. 
 Bleat out afresh, ye hills ; ye mossy rocks 
 Retain the sound : the broad responsive low, 
 Ye valleys raise ; for the great Shepherd reigns ; 
 And his unsuffering kingdom yet will come. 
 
 JOHNSO N. 
 
 Hark ! through the desert wilds what awful voice 
 Swells on the gale, and bids the world rejoice? 
 What prophet form, in holy raptures led, 
 The gray mists hovering o'er his sacred head, 
 Prepares on earth Messiah's destin'd way, 
 And hastes the mighty messenger of dav !
 
 / / 
 
 Lo ! echoing skies resound his gladsome strain, 
 " Messiah comes ! — ye rugged paths he plain ! 
 The Shiloh comes ! ye towering cedars bend ; 
 Swell forth, ye vallies, and ye rocks, descend ; 
 The wither* d branch let balmy fruits adorn, 
 And clustering roses twine the leafless thorn ; 
 Burst forth, ye vocal groves, your joy to tell — 
 The God of peace redeems his Israel ! " 
 
 How beauteous are the feet of those who bear 
 Mercy to man — glad tidings to despair ! 
 Far from the mountain's top they lovelier seem 
 Than moonlight dews, or morning's rosy beam ; 
 Sweeter the voice than spell or hymning sphere, 
 The listening angels hush their harps to hear. 
 
 HE RVEY. 
 
 And now the anthem swells ! — on every hand 
 A cloud of incense gathers o'er the land ; 
 Faith upward mounts, upon devotion's wings, 
 And, like the lark, at heaven's pure portal sings ; 
 From myriad tongues the song of praise is poured, 
 And o'er them floats " the Spirit of the Ford !" 
 
 L
 
 78 
 
 The vision widens ! — northward brightly rolled, 
 That Spirit rests upon the " isles of gold :" 
 Eastward, methinks, the beauteous veil expands, 
 And smiles upon a hundred sea-bound lands : 
 Far to the west, it breaks the moral night, 
 And all the islands slumber in its light : 
 Up, up again I trace the spreading glow, 
 Till all the wide Pacific lies below : 
 Far, far away from where its course began, 
 I see it rouse thy empire, fierce Japan ! 
 I see it fling its hallow' d beams around, 
 Where once the cross was trampled on the ground : 
 Westward, once more, it makes its shining road, 
 And China worships at the name of God; 
 Down to the dust the priests of Brahma bow, 
 And Truth sits smiling on the shrines of Fo : 
 Till, lo ! it brightens o'er its native earth, 
 And burns above the cradle of its birth — 
 Arabia basks beneath the blessed beam ; 
 And Europe suns her in the glorious gleam; 
 And Britain smiles upon her ocean-seat, 
 While all the world is glowing at her feet; 
 For see ! the ray she fostered in her breast 
 Has won its kindling way o'er east and west, 
 And all the nations in its beauty sleep, 
 As the vast waters fill the boundless deep !
 
 7!) 
 
 E DMESTON. 
 
 Enthron'd upon a hill of light, 
 
 A heav'nly minstrel sings ; 
 And sounds unutterably bright 
 
 Spring from the golden strings. 
 Who would have thought so fair a form 
 Once bent beneath an earthly storm ! 
 
 Yet was he sad and lonely here, 
 
 Of low and humble birth, 
 And mingled, while in this dark sphere, 
 
 With meanest sons of earth ; 
 In spirit poor, in look forlorn, 
 The jest of mortals and the scorn. 
 
 A crown of heav'nly radiance now, 
 
 A harp of golden strings, 
 Glitters upon his deathless brow, 
 
 And to his hymn-note rings : 
 The bower of interwoven light 
 Seems at the sound to grow more bright. 
 
 Then, while with visage black and sear 
 
 The poor in soul we see, 
 Let us not think what he is here, 
 
 But what he soon will be ; 
 And look beyond this earthly night, 
 To crowns of trold and bowers of light. 
 
 s ^^i m^i *,~„~+~ B .
 
 KO 
 
 M O (IRE. 
 
 Bur who shall see the glorious day, 
 
 When, thron'd on Zion's brow, 
 The Lord shall rend that veil away 
 
 Which hides the nations now ! 
 When earth no more beneath the fear 
 
 Of his rebuke shall lie ; 
 When pain shall cease, and ev'ry tear 
 
 Be wip'd from every eye ! 
 
 Then, Judah ! thou no more shalt mourn 
 
 Beneath the Gentiles' chain ; 
 Thy days of splendour shall return, 
 
 And all be new again. 
 The fount of life shall then be quafPd 
 
 In peace by all who come ; 
 And every wind that blows, shall waft 
 
 Some long-lost exile home ! 
 
 ANON. 
 
 There is an hour of peaceful rest 
 To mourning wand'rers given ; 
 There is a tear for souls distrest, 
 A balm for every wounded breast — 
 'Tis found above — in heaven !
 
 81 
 
 There is a soft, a downy bed, 
 
 'Tis fair as breath of even ; 
 A couch for weary mortals spread, 
 Where they may rest the aching head, 
 And find repose in heaven ! 
 
 There is a home for weary souls, 
 
 By sin and sorrow driven ; 
 When tost on life's tempestuous shoals, 
 Where storms arise, and ocean rolls, 
 And all is drear — but heaven ! 
 
 Faith thither lifts the tearful eye, 
 The heart with anguish riven ; 
 And views the tempest passing by, 
 The evening shadows quickly fly, 
 All, all serene — in heaven ! 
 
 There fragrant flowers immortal bloom, 
 
 And joys supreme are given ; 
 There rays divine disperse the gloom 
 Beyond the confines of the tomb 
 Appears the dawn of heaven !
 
 82 
 
 MILTON. 
 
 Their golden harps they took, 
 Harps ever tuned, that glittering hy theii side 
 Like quivers hung, and with preamble sweet 
 Of charming symphony they introduce 
 Their sacred song, and waken raptures high ; 
 No voice exempt, no voice but well could join 
 Melodious part ; such concord is in heaven. 
 
 Thee, Father, first they sung Omnipotent, 
 Immutable, Immortal, Infinite, 
 Eternal King; the Author of all being, 
 Fountain of light, thyself invisible 
 Amidst the glorious brightness where thou sitt'st 
 Throned inaccessible ; but when thou shad'st 
 The full blaze of thy beams, and thro' a cloud, 
 Drawn round about thee like a radiant shrine, 
 Dark with excessive bright thy skirts appear, 
 Yet dazzle Heaven, that brightest Seraphim 
 Approach not, but with both wings veil their eyes. 
 
 Thee next they sang of all creation first, 
 Begotten Son, Divine Similitude, 
 In whose conspicuous countenance, without cloud 
 Made visible, the Almighty Father shines,
 
 63 
 
 Whom else no creature can behold ; on thee 
 Impressed the effulgence of his glory 'bides, 
 Transfused on thee his ample Spirit rests. 
 
 O unexampled love ! 
 Love no where to be found less than Divine ! 
 Hail Son of God ! Saviour of men ! thy name 
 Shall be the copious matter of my song 
 Henceforth, and never shall my heart thy praise 
 Forget, nor from thy Father's praise disjoin. 
 
 ROGERS. 
 
 All that till now their rapt researches knew, 
 Not call'd in slow succession to review ; 
 But, as a landscape meets the eye of day, 
 At once presented to their glad survey ! 
 
 Each scene of bliss reveal'd, since chaos fled, 
 And dawning light its dazzling glories spread ; 
 Each chain of wonders that sublimely glow'd, 
 Since first Creation's choral anthem flovv'd; 
 Each ready flight, at Mercy's smile divine, 
 To distant worlds, that undiscovered shine ; — 
 On Memory's tablet flings its living rays, 
 And all, combined, with blest effulgence blaze.
 
 84 
 
 There thy bright train, immortal Friendship, soar, 
 No more to part, to mingle tears no more ! 
 And as the softening hand of Time endears 
 The joys and sorrows of our infant years, 
 So there the soul, releas'd from human strife, 
 Smiles at the little cares and ills of life ; 
 Its lights and shades, its sunshine and its showers, 
 As at a dream that charm'd her vacant hours. 
 
 MRS. HE MANS. 
 
 Child, amidst the flowers at play, 
 While the red light fades away ; 
 Mother, with thy earnest eye, 
 Ever following silently; 
 Father, by the breeze of eve, 
 Call'd thy harvest work to leave ; 
 Pray ! — Ere yet the dark hours be, 
 Lilt the heart and bend the knee ! 
 
 Traveller, in the Stranger's land, 
 Far from thine own household band ; 
 Mourner, haunted by the tone 
 Of a voice from this world gone ; 
 Captive, in whose narrow cell, 
 Sunshine hath not leave to dwell ; 
 Sailor, on the darkening sea, 
 Lift the heart and bend the knee !
 
 Warrior, that from battle won, 
 Breathest now at sel of sun ; 
 Woman ! o'er the lowly slain, 
 Weeping on the burial plain ; 
 Ye that triumph, ye that sigh, 
 Kindred by one holy tie ! 
 Heaven's first Star alike ye see, 
 Lift the heart and bend the knee ! 
 
 A N O N. 
 
 When thro' the air loud thunders roll, 
 
 And vivid lightnings fly, 
 And dreadful storms, with hideous howl, 
 
 Commingle earth and sky ; 
 Weary, bewilder' d on his way, 
 
 Unknowing where to tread, 
 Terrific fear and dire dismay 
 
 The pilgrim's heart invade. 
 
 If in an interval of rest 
 
 The heavy clouds divide, 
 And 'cross the heav'n's tumultuous breast, 
 
 In rifted ridges ride ; 
 With what delight his bosom glows. 
 
 When, thro' a parted cloud, 
 The moon her radiant lustre throws, 
 
 And points to him his road. 
 \|
 
 86 
 
 So when the Christian sore heset, 
 
 With trouble, grief, and woe ; 
 Knows not which way to turn his feet, 
 
 Where for relief to go ; 
 The Word of God his bosom cheers, 
 
 Affords a heav'nly ray, 
 Conducts him thro' a vale of tears, 
 
 And turns his Night to Day. 
 
 B o w l E s. 
 
 When from my humble bed I rise, 
 And see the Morning Sun : 
 
 Who, glorious in the eastern skies, 
 His journey has begun : 
 
 1 think of that Almighty Power, 
 Which call'd this orb from night; 
 
 I think how many at this hour 
 Rejoice beneath the light. 
 
 And then I pray, in ev'ry land 
 Where'er its light is shed, 
 
 That all who live might bless the hand 
 Which eives (hem daily bread.
 
 87 
 
 MRS. STEELE. 
 
 The gifts indulgent Heav'n bestows, 
 Are variously conveyed ; 
 
 The human mind like Nature knows, 
 Alternate light and shade. 
 
 '-> 
 
 While changing aspects all things wear, 
 
 Can we expect to find 
 Unclouded sunshine all the year, 
 
 Or constant peace of mind ? 
 
 More gaily smiles the blooming .Spring 
 When wint'ry storms are o'er ; 
 
 Retreating sorrow thus may bring 
 Delights unknown before. 
 
 Then Christian ! send thy fears away, 
 
 Nor sink in gloomy care ; 
 Though clouds o'erspread the scene to-day, 
 
 To-morrow may be fair. 
 
 BISHOP HEBER. 
 
 He comes; — but not in regal splendour drest, 
 The haughty Diadem, the Tyrian vest, 
 Not arm'd in flame, all glorious from afar 
 Of hosts the chieftain, and the lord of war:
 
 gg 
 
 Messiah conies — let furious discord cease ; 
 Be Peace on earth before the Prince of Peace. 
 Disease and Anguish feel his bless'd controul, 
 And howling fiends release the tortur'd soul ; 
 The beams of Gladness hell's dark caves illume, 
 And Mercy broods above the distant gloom. 
 Thou palsied Earth, with noonday night o'erspread ! 
 Thou sickening Sun, so dark, so deep, so red ! 
 Ye hov'ring ghosts, that throng the starless air ! 
 Why shakes the earth ? Why lades the light ? declare ? 
 Are those his limbs, with ruthless scourges torn ? 
 His brows all bleeding with the twisted thorn ? 
 His the pale form, the meek forgiving eye, 
 Raisd from the Cross in patient agony ? 
 Be dark, thou Sun, — thou noonday Night arise, 
 And hide, oh hide, tin' dreadful sacrifice ! 
 
 c ovv pe Et. 
 
 God moves in a mysterious way, 
 His wonders to perform ; 
 
 He plants his footsteps in the sea, 
 And rides upon the storm. 
 
 Deep in unfathomable mines 
 
 Of never-failing skill, 
 He treasures up his bright designs, 
 
 And works his sov'reign will.
 
 89 
 
 Ve Christians, then, fresh courage take, 
 The clouds ye so much dread 
 
 Are hig with mercy, and shall break 
 In blessings on your head. 
 
 Judge not the Lord bv feeble sense, 
 But trust him for his grace ; 
 
 Behind a frowning Providence 
 He hides a smiling face. 
 
 His purposes will ripen fast, 
 
 Unfolding ev'ry hour; 
 The bud may have a bitter taste, 
 
 But sweet will be the flow'r. 
 
 BISHOP HE HER. 
 
 When through the torn sail, the wild tempest is raging, 
 When o'er the dark wave, the red lightning is gleaming, 
 No hope lends a ray, the poor seaman to cherish, 
 We fly to our Maker — " Save Lord, or we perish." 
 
 O Saviour ! once rock'd on the breast of the billow, 
 Arous'd by the shriek of despair from thy pillow ; 
 Now seated in glory, the mariner cherish, 
 Who cries in his anguish — " Save Lord, or we perish."
 
 <>0 
 
 And ! when the whirlwind of passion is raging, 
 When sin in our hearts, his wild warfare is waging, 
 Then send down thy grace, thy redeemed to cherish, 
 Rebuke the destroyer — " Save Lord, or we perish." 
 
 SMART. 
 
 He sung of God, the mighty source, 
 Of all things the stupendous force 
 
 On which all things depend ; 
 From whose right arm, beneath whose eyes, 
 All period, power, and enterprize, 
 
 Commence, and reign, and end. 
 
 The world, the clustering spheres he made, 
 The glorious light, the soothing shade, 
 
 Dale, champaign, grove, and hill ; 
 The multitudinous abyss, 
 Where secrecy remains in bliss, 
 
 And Wisdom hides her skill. 
 
 Tell them, " I AM" JEHOVAH said 
 To Moses, while earth heard in dread, 
 
 And smitten to the heart ; 
 At once above, beneath, around, 
 All Nature without voice or sound, 
 
 Replied, O Lord, Thou art !
 
 91 
 
 27th Chap. ACTS.— Bishop Turner. 
 
 When softly blew the southern gale, 
 Curl'd the bright wave, and fill' cl the swelling sail, 
 Blindly we deem'd our fondest purpose gain'd, 
 And our proud hearts each thought of fear disdain'd 
 Vain confidence ! for ere the port was won, 
 Resistless rose the dire Euroclydon. 
 Their onward course th' undaunted shipmen urge, 
 Spite of the eddying winds and boiling surge ; 
 Subdu'd at length, and humbled, they explore 
 The doubtful shelter of the nearest shore : 
 Strike the torn sail, and o'er the billows driven, 
 Yield, unresisting, to the will of Heaven. 
 
 Is it not thus, when prosp'rous fortune smiles, 
 And the vain world our wayward heart beguiles, 
 When all around us cry, " Soul take thine ease, 
 This is thine hour, thy licensed pleasure these ? " 
 But from the very fountain of our joys 
 Springs bitterness ; — a sudden fate destroj s 
 The chosen object of our tenderest care, 
 And all is grief, and horror, and despair. 
 Let not the heart unyielding, then essay 
 In its own strength to keep its onward way ; 
 But that the isle of refuge may be won, 
 In humbled accents cry, " Thy will be done."
 
 92 
 
 MASON. 
 
 Lord, who may to thy love aspire, 
 Or hope to join the heav'nly choir, 
 But he, who rests on thee his trust, 
 Whose thoughts are pure, his actions just, 
 Whose word is truth, whose, open heart 
 Distains the mean disguise of art ; 
 Who swift to praise, as slow to blame, 
 Guards as his own his neighbour's fame ; 
 Despising earthly pomp and state, 
 He knows the good alone are great. 
 If danger wakes, or justice sleeps, 
 Alike if giv'n his word he keeps; 
 No gains luxurious swell his hoard, 
 No guiltless blood embrues his sword ; 
 Whom no rewards to vice allure, 
 He walking wisely, walketh sure. 
 
 From the GERMAN of KLEIST. 
 
 How rich the splendours of the western skies, 
 In purple tints and glowing crimson bright ! 
 
 Where varying forms, and shadowy landscapes rise, 
 Mountains of »ol<l, and flaming waves of light :
 
 93 
 
 The sweetest fragrance scents the ev'ning gale, 
 And o'er reposing nature silence reigns; 
 
 Save where the flute breathes softly thro' the vale, 
 And streams low mnrm'ring glide along the plains, 
 Or night's sad songstress chants her long-drawn 
 plaintive strains. 
 
 O Thou ! my guide divine, whose sacred power 
 Can bid the dang'rous storms of passion cease, 
 
 Shed on my soul the blessings of this hour 
 
 The beam of virtue, and the dews of peace. 
 
 Led by thy hand, I pass'd thro' life's fair morn, 
 And brav'd the ardours of its noontide ray ; 
 
 Still may thy love its future hours adorn, 
 Bless the mild ev'ning of my mortal day, 
 And bid unclouded shine, its last declining ray. 
 
 And ye ! than wealth more priz'd, than fame more dear, 
 Ye friends for ever lov'd, ye chosen few ! 
 
 Who o'er the failings of a heart sincere, 
 
 With sren'rous hand the veil of friendship drew ! 
 
 Shed o'er my latest hour one parting tear, 
 
 To fond remembrance give one tender sigh, 
 
 When the faint shadows of this earthly sphere 
 Shall sink in death before my closing eye, 
 In trembling transport rais'd to glorious seems on 
 
 high. 
 
 N
 
 94 
 
 ANON. 
 
 Farewell, December ! now the failing light, 
 Glimmers through the frosted panes, a parting ray 
 And the Sun leaves these realms of shortened day 
 
 To pour on distant climes, in glory bright. 
 His cloudless beams ! O e'er again we view 
 
 His red orb, rising from the ocean's bed. 
 
 This fleeting year will be for ever fled, 
 Lost in the bosom of Eternity. 
 
 BISHOP HEIiEii. 
 
 God that madest earth and heaven, 
 
 Darkness and light; 
 Who the day for toil has given, 
 
 For rest the night. 
 May thy Angel guards defend us, 
 Slumber sweet thy mercy send us, 
 Holy dreams and hopes attend us, 
 
 This live long night.
 
 INDEX. 
 
 And now on Earth the seventh Milton. 
 
 O Day most calm, and bright, Herbert. 
 
 With silent awe 1 hail the sacred morn Leyden. 
 
 The are thy glorious works, Parent of good, Milton. 
 
 It was a lovely morning ; — all was calm Barton. 
 
 See, Nature gay, as when she first began Cowper. 
 
 Sundays observe: think when the bells do chime Herbert. 
 
 Blest, who their strength on thee reclined, Merrick. 
 
 For thou didst die for me, O Son of God ! Milinan. 
 
 Again returns the day of holy rest, Mason. 
 
 O God ! my heart within me faints, Eowdler. 
 
 Prayer is the soul's sincere desire Montgomery. 
 
 Whence came I ? — Memory cannot say ; Montgomery. 
 
 Scripture is the only cure of woe ; Cowper. 
 
 Hail, silent fields ! with your inhabitant, Brown. 
 
 The cheerful supper done, with serious face, Burns. 
 
 Is there a time when moments flow Edmeston. 
 
 Brother ! thou art gone before us, Milman. 
 
 The curling waves with awful roar Anon. 
 
 Brightest and best of the Sons of the Morning, Anon. 
 
 When sickness to my fainting soul, Bishop Heber. 
 
 Thou wast oppress'd my Saviour and my God ! Anon. 
 
 God's sacred name with reverence profound Waller. 
 
 Weak and irresolute is man : Cowper. 
 
 Did sweeter sounds adorn my flowing tongue, Prior. 
 
 On the proud banks of proud Euphrates' flood . . . .Crashav. . 
 
 Not seldom clad in radiant vest Wordsworth. 
 
 O Thou, whose light when that of life departs, Anon. 
 
 It happen 'd on a solemn eventide, Cowper. 
 
 Now, when the downward sun has left the glens, . . .Grahame. 
 
 The light of Sabbath Eve Edmeston. 
 
 And lie is present still. He still shall bless Rollestone. 
 
 As when the silent Queen of Night Barton. 
 
 Welcome the hour of sweet repose, Bow ring. 
 
 When my breast labours, with oppressive care, . . . .Thomson. 
 Begin, my soul, th' exalted lay, Ogilvie. 
 
 5 
 
 f» 
 9 
 Id 
 12 
 13 
 14 
 17 
 17 
 20 
 21 
 22 
 21 
 24 
 21 
 2» 
 27 
 23 
 SO 
 31 
 32 
 33 
 33 
 37 
 33 
 39 
 41 
 42 
 43 
 44 
 45 
 40 
 47 
 A7 
 4S 
 4'.)
 
 INDEX. 
 
 Page 
 
 Author of life ! in vain my tongue essays, Mrs. Carter. 52 
 
 In ev'ry place, at ev'ry hour, Anon. 54 
 
 The Lord shall come, the earth shall quake, Anon. 55 
 
 God of my heart, whose tender care Merrick. 56 
 
 Beauty complete, anil majesty divine, Anon. 57 
 
 Acquaint thyself with God, and be at peace ; .... Mrs. Carter. 58 
 
 Sweet day, so cool, so calm, so bright, liishop Home. 50 
 
 Lovely, lasting peace of mind, Parnell. 60 
 
 O Thou most blessed Spirit, pure lampe of light, . . . .Spencer. 01 
 
 But on the right Roberts. C3 
 
 When, marshall'd on the nightly plain, Kirk White. 65 
 
 Dear is the shadowy close of day to me : Bridges. 66 
 
 Thou, who didst put to flight Young. 67 
 
 When at the limits of my final stage, Brown. 67 
 
 Millions of spiritual creatures walk the earth Milton. 68 
 
 Along yon glitt'ring sky what glory streams ! Beattie. 68 
 
 Yes, Salem! thou shalt rise : thy Father's aid .. Bishop Heber. 69 
 
 Oh ! scenes surpassing fable, and yet true I Cowper. 71 
 
 From Greenland's icy mountains, Bishop Heber. 72 
 
 A voice from the desert comes awful and shrill, . . . .Drutnmond. 74 
 
 Sing to the Lord ! no more the angels fly, Milma::. 74 
 
 Be hush'd the prostrate world ! Thomson. 76 
 
 Hark! through the desert wilds what awful voice ....Johnson. 76 
 
 And now the anthem swells ! — on ev'ry hand Hervey. 77 
 
 Enthron'd upon a hill of light, Edmesten. 79 
 
 But who shall see the glorious day, Moore. 80 
 
 There is an hour of peaceful rest Anon. 80 
 
 Their golden harps they took, Milton. (-"2 
 
 All that till now their rapt researches knew, Rogers. 1-3 
 
 Child, amidst the flowers at play, Mrs. Hemans. 84 
 
 When thro' the air loud thunders roll, Anon. 85 
 
 When from my humble bed I rise, Bowles. 86 
 
 The gifts indulgent Heav'n bestows, Mrs. Steele. 87 
 
 He comes ; — but not in regal splendour drest, . . Bishop Heber. 87 
 
 God moves in a mysterious way, Cowper. 88 
 
 When through the torn sail, Bishop Heber. 89 
 
 He sung of God, the mighty source, Smart 
 
 When softly blew the southern gale, Bishop Turner. 
 
 Lord, who may to thy love aspire, Mason. 92 
 
 How rich the splendours of the western skies Kleist. 92 
 
 Farewell, December ! now the falling light, Anon. 94 
 
 God that madest earth and heaven, Bishop Heber. 91 
 
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