Fain would I say, 'Forgive my foul offence !' Again exalt the brute and sink the man; Who act so counter heavenly mercy's plan? Who sin so oft have mourn'd, yet to temptation ran? O Thou, great Governor of all below! If I may dare a lifted eye to Thee, Thy nod can make the tempest cease to blow, To rule their torrent in the' allowed line; LYING AT A REVEREND FRIEND'S HOUSE ONE NIGHT, THE AUTHOR LEFT THE FOLLOWING VERSES IN THE ROOM WHERE HE SLEPT. I. THOU dread Pow'r, who reign'st above! When for this scene of peace and love, II. The hoary sire-the mortal stroke, III. She, who her lovely offspring eyes IV. Their hope, their stay, their darling youth, In manhood's dawning blush; Bless him, thou God of love and truth, Up to a parent's wish! V. The beauteous seraph sister-band, With earnest tears I pray, Thou know'st the snares on ev'ry hand, Guide thou their steps alway! VI. When soon or late they reach that coast, O'er life's rough ocean driv'n, May they rejoice, no wand'rer lost, THE FIRST PSALM. THE man, in life wherever plac'd, Who walks not in the wicked's way, Nor from the seat of scornful pride Casts forth his eyes abroad, But with humility and awe Still walks before his God. That man shall flourish like the trees Which by the streamlets grow; The fruitful top is spread on high, And firm the root below. But he whose blossom buds in guilt For why that God the good adore Hath giv'n them peace and rest, But hath decreed that wicked men Shall ne'er be truly blest. A PRAYER, UNDER THE PRESSURE OF VIOLENT ANGUISH O THOU Great Being! what thou art Surpasses me to know: Yet sure I am, that known to thee Thy creature here before thee stands, Yet sure those ills that wring my soul Sure thou, Almighty, canst not act O, free my weary eyes from tears, But if I must afflicted be, To suit some wise design; Then man my soul with firm resolves To bear and not repine! THE FIRST SIX VERSES OF THE NINETIETH PSALM. O THOU, the first, the greatest friend Of all the human race! Whose strong right hand has ever been Before the mountains heav'd their heads Beneath thy forming hand, Before this pond'rous globe itself, Arose at thy command; ད That pow'r which rais'd and still upholds This universal frame, From countless, unbeginning time Was ever still the same. Those mighty periods of years Which seem to us so vast, Appear no more before thy sight Than yesterday that's past. Thou giv'st the word: thy creature, man, Thou layest them, with all their cares, In everlasting sleep; As with a flood thou tak'st them off They flourish like the morning flow'r, But long ere night cut down it lies |