At helm I make my reason sit,
My crew of passions all submit.
If dark and blust'ring prove some nights
Philosophy puts forth her lights;
Experience holds the cautious glass,
To shun the breakers, as I pass;
And frequent throws the wary lead,
To see what dangers may be hid.
And once in seven years I'm seen
At Bath, or Tunbridge to careen.
Tho' pleas'd to see the dolphins play,
I mind my compass and my way;
With store sufficient for relief,
And wisely still prepar'd to reef ;
Nor wanting the dispersive bowl
Of cloudy weather in the soul,
I make (may heaven propitious send
Such wind and weather to the end)
Neither becalm'd, nor overblown,
Life's voyage to the world unknown.
[THE LIFE OF A BEAU]
How brimfull of nothing's the Life of a Beau!
They've nothing to think of, they've nothing to do;
Nor they've nothing to talk of, for-nothing they know :
Such, such is the Life of a Beau.
For nothing they rise, but to draw the fresh Air ; Spend the Morning in nothing but curling their Hair ; And do nothing all Day but Sing, Santer and Stare : Such, such is the Life of a Beau.
For nothing at Night to the Playhouse they croud,
For to mind nothing done there they always are proud,
But to bow, and to grin, and talk-nothing aloud:
Such, such is the Life of a Beau.
For nothing they run to th' Assembly and Ball;
And for nothing at Cards a fair Partner call,
For they still must be blasted who've-nothing at all:
Such, such is the Life of a Beau.
For nothing on Sundays at Church they appear,
For they've nothing to hope, nor they've nothing to fear; They can be nothing nowhere, who-nothing are here: Such, such is the Life of a Beau.
HYMN FOR CHRISTMAS-DAY
HARK how all the Welkin rings
"Glory to the King of Kings,
Peace on Earth, and Mercy mild,
God and Sinners reconcil'd!
Joyful all ye Nations rise,
Join the Triumph of the Skies,
Universal Nature say
"Christ the Lord is born To-day!"
Christ, by highest Heav'n ador'd,
Christ, the everlasting Lord,
Late in Time behold Him come,
Offspring of a Virgin's Womb.
Veil'd in Flesh, the Godhead see,
Hail, th' Incarnate Deity!
Pleas'd as Man with Men t'appear
Jesus, our Immanuel here.
Hail, the heav'nly Prince of Peace!
Hail the Sun of Righteousness!
Light and Life to all He brings,
Ris'n with Healing in his Wings.
Mild He lays his Glory by,
Born-that Man no more may die,
Born to raise the Sons of Earth,
Born-to give them second Birth.
Come, Desire of Nations, come,
Fix in us thy humble Home,
Rise, the Woman's conqu'ring Seed,
Bruise in us the Serpent's Head.
Now display thy saving Power,
Ruin'd Nature now restore,
Now in mystic Union join
Thine to ours, and ours to Thine.
Adam's Likeness, Lord, efface,
Stamp thy Image in its Place,
Second Adam from above,
Reinstate us in thy Love.
Let us Thee, tho' lost, regain
Thee, the Life, the inner Man;
O! to All Thyself impart,
Form'd in each believing Heart!
JESU, Lover of my Soul,
Let me to thy Bosom fly
While the nearer Waters roll
While the Tempest still is high.
Hide me, O my Saviour, hide,
Till the Storm of Life is past :
Safe into the Haven guide;
O receive my Soul at last.
Other Refuge have I none,
Hangs my helpless Soul on Thee,
Leave, ah! leave me not alone,
Still support, and comfort me.
All my Trust on Thee is stay'd;
All my Help from Thee I bring;
Cover my defenceless Head,
With the Shadow of thy Wing.
Wilt thou not regard my Call?
Wilt thou not accept my Prayer?
Lo! I sink, I faint, I fall-
Lo! on Thee I cast my Care:.
Reach me out thy gracious Hand!
While I of thy Strength receive,
Hoping against Hope I stand,
Dying, and behold I live!
Thou, O Christ, art all I want,
More than all in Thee I find :
Raise the Fallen, chear the Faint,
Heal the Sick, and lead the Blind,
Just, and holy is thy Name,
I am all Unrighteousness,
False, and full of Sin I am,
Thou art full of Truth and Grace.
Plenteous Grace with Thee is found,
Grace to cover all my Sin:
Let the healing Streams abound,
Make, and keep me pure within :
Thou of Life the Fountain art:
Freely let me take of Thee,
Spring Thou up within my Heart,
Rise to all Eternity.
CHARLES WESLEY.
TO THE TUNE OF Come and Listen to my Ditty"
As, near Porto-Bello lying,
On the gently swelling Flood,
At Midnight, with Streamers flying,
Our triumphant Navy rode,
There, while Vernon sate all glorious
From the Spaniards late Defeat,
And his Crew, with Shouts victorious
Drank Success to England's Fleet.
On a sudden, shrilly Sounding,
Heideous Yells and Shrieks were heard ;
Then, each Heart with Fears confounding,
A sad Troop of Ghosts appear'd;
All in dreary Hammocks shrouded,
Which for winding Sheets they wore ;
And with Looks by Sorrow clouded,
Frowning on that hostile Shore.
On them gleam'd the Moon's wan Lustre,
When the Shade of Hosier brave,
His Pale Band was seen to muster,
Rising from their watʼry Grave:
O'er the glimmering Wave he hy'd him,
Where the Burford rear'd her Sail,
With three thousand Ghosts beside him,
And in Groans did Vernon hail.
"Heed, oh heed! my fatal Story,
I am Hosier's injur'd Ghost;
You who now have purchas'd Glory
At this Place where I was lost;
Tho' in Porto Bello's ruin
You now triumph, free from Fears,
Yet to hear of our undoing,
You will mix your Joys with Tears.
|