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All-powerful Grace, esert thy gentle sway,
And teach my rebel passions to obey;
Left lurking folly, with infidious art,
Regain my volatile inconftant heart!
Shall every high resolve devotion frames
Be only lifeless sounds and specious names ?
O rather, while thy hopes and fears controul,
In this still hour, each motion of my soul,
Secure its safety by a sudden doom,
And be the foft retreat of fleep my tomb !
Calm let me flumber in that dark repose,
Till the lat morn its orient beam disclose:
Then, when the great archangel's potent sound
Shall echo through creation's ample round.
Wak'd from the deep of death, with joy survey
The op’ning splendors of eternal day.

MRS. BARBAULD.

AN ADDRESS TO THE DEITY. Deus eft quodcunque vides, quocunque moveris.

LUCAS. GOD of my life, and Author of my days ! Permit my feeble voice to lifp thy praise ; And trembling take upon a mortal tongue That hallow'd name to harps of seraphs fung. Yet here the brightest seraphs could no more Than hide their faces, tremble, and adore. Worms, angels, men, in ev'ry diff'rent (pliere, Are equal all, for all are nothing here,

All Nature faints beneath the mighty name
Which Nature's works, through all her parts, proclaim.
I feel that name my inmost thoughts controul,
And breathe an awful ftillness through my soul;
As by a charm, the waves of grief subfide;
Impetuous passion ftops her headlong tide :
At thy felt presence all emotions cease, -
And my hush'd spirit finds a sudden peace,
Till every worldly thought within me dies,
And carth's gay pageants vanish from my eyes ;
Till all my sense is loft in infinite,
And one valt object fills my aching fight.

But soon, alas ! this holy calm is broke;
My foul submits to wear her wonted yoke;
With shackled pinions strives to foar in vain,
And mingles with the drofs of earth again.
But he, our gracious Mafter ! kind as just,
Knowing our frame, remembers man is duft.
His Spirit, ever brooding o'er our mind,
Sees the first with to better hopes inclin'd;
Marks the young dawn of ev'ry virtuous aim,
And fans the smọaking flax into a flame.
His ears are open to the softest cry,
His grace descends to meet the lifted eye ;
He reads the language of a filent tear,
And fighs are incense from a heart fincere.
Such are the vows, the facrifice I give;
Accept the yow, and bid the suppliant live:
From each terrestrial bondage set me free;
Still ev'ry with that centres not in thec;
Bid my fond hopes, my vain disquiets cease,
And point my path to everlasting peace.

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If the loft hand of winning pleasure leads By living waters, and through flow'ry meads, When all is smiling, tranquil, and serene, And verbal beauty paints the flatt'ring scene, Oh! teach me to elude each latent snare, And whisper to my fliding heart-beware! With caution let me hear the Syren's voice, And doubtful, with a trembling heart, rejoice, If friendless in a vale of tears I ftray, Where briars wound, and thorns perplex my way, Still let my steady soul thy goodness see, And with strong confidence lay hold on thee; With equal eye my various lot receive, Refign'd to die, or resolute to live; Prepar'd to kiss the sceptre or the rod, While God is seen in all, and all in God.

I read his awful name emblazon'd high With golden letters on the illumin'd sky; Nor less the myftic characters I see Wrought in each flow'r, infcrib'd on ev'ry tree : In ev'ry leaf that trembles to the breeze I hear the voice of God among the trees; With thee in shady solitudes I walk, With thee in busy crowded cities talk; In ev'ry creature own thy forming pow'r, In each event thy providence adore. Thy hopes thall animate my drooping soul, Thy precepts guide me, and thy fear controul. Thus thall Ieft, uomou'd by all alarms, Secure within the temple of thive arms, From anxious cares, from gloomy terrors free, And feel in yself omnipotent in thee.

Then when the laft, the closing hour draws nigh,
And earth recedes before my swimming eye ;
When trembling on the doubtful edge of fate
I ftand, and stretch my view to either state;
Teach me to quit this transitory scene
With decent triumph and a look serene ;
Teach me to fix my ardent hopes on high,
And, having liv'd to thee, in thee to die.

ODE,

TO CONTENT.
O Thou, the Nymph with placid eye!
O seldom found, yet ever nigh!

Receive my temperate vow :
Not all the storms that shake the pole
Can e'er disturb thy halcyon foul,

And smooth unalter'd brow.
O come, in fimpleft vest array'd,
With all thy sober cheer display'd,

To bless my longing fight;
Thy mien compos'd, thy even pace,
Thy meek regard, thy matron grace,

And charte fubdu'd delight.
No more by varying passions beat,
O gently guide my pilgrim teet

To find thy hermit cell; Where in some pure and equal sky Beneath thy soft indulgent eye

The modest Virtues dwell.

Simplicity in Attic veft,
And Innocence with candid breast

And clear undaunted eye;
And Hope who points to diftant years,
Fair op'ning thro' this vale of tears

A vista to the sky.
There Health, thro' whose calm bosom glide
The temperate joys in even tide,

That rarely ebb or flow;
And Patience there, thy fifter meek,
Presents her mild unvarying cheek

To meet the offer'd blow.
Her influence taught the Phrygian sage
A tyrant master's wanton rage

With settled smiles to meet ;
Inur'd to toil and bitter bread,
He bow'd his meek submitted head,

And kiss’d thy sainted feet. .
But thou, O nymph, retir'd and coy!
In what brown hamlet dost thou joy

To tell thy tender tale ?
The lowliest children of the ground,
Moss-rose and violet blossom round,

And lily-of-the-vale.
O say, what soft propitious hour
I beit may choose to hail thy power,

And court thy gentle sway?
When Autumn, friendly to the Muse,
Shall thy own modest tints diffuse,

And shed thy milder day.

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