SECTION VII. THE IGNORANCE OF MAN. BEHOLD уon newborn infant griev'd With hunger, thirst, and pain; That asks to have the wants reliev'd, It knows not to complain. Aloud the speechless suppliant cries, And utters, as it can, The woes that in its bosom rise, That infant, whose advancing hour (Sad proof of sin's transmissive pow'r!) That infant, Lord, am I. A childhood yet my thoughts confess, Author of good! to thee I turn : O let thy fear within me dwell; And oh by error's force subdu'd, Since oft my stubborn will Prepost'rous shun's the latent good, And grasps the specious ill; Not to my wish, but to my want, Do thou thy gifts apply: Unask'd, what good thou knowest grant; What ill, tho' ask'd, deny. MERRICK. TRUST IN THE GOODNESS OF GOD. WHY, O my soul, why thus deprest? And check the rising tear. When darkness, and when sorrows rose, And press'd on ev'ry side, Did not the Lord sustain thy steps? Affliction is a stormy deep, Where wave resounds to wave: Tho' o'er my head the billows roll, I know the Lord can save. Perhaps, before the morning dawns, For He, who bade the tempest roar, In the dark watches of the night, I'll count his mercies o'er: I'll praise him for ten thousand past, Then, O my soul, why thus deprest? Here will I rest, and build my hopes, Nor murmur at his rod; He's more than all the world to me, THE DYING CHRISTIAN TO HIS SOUL, VITAL spark of heav'nly flame! Hark! they wisper; angels say, "Sister Spirit, come away. 99 What is this absorbs me quite ; Steals my senses, shuts my sight, Drowns my spirits, draws my breath? Tell me, my soul, can this be death? The world recedes; it disappears! Heav'n opens on my eyes! my ears With sounds seraphic ring: Lend, lend your wings! I mount! I fly! O Death? where is thy sting? POPE. SECTION X. PRAISE DUE TO GOD FOR HIS WONDERFUL WORKS. Mr God! all nature owns thy sway; The ev'ning slowly spreads her shade; Or where the shelt'ring woods are spread; Or tuneful stream that cheers the vale, |