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Soon as gray ev'ning gilds the plain,
Thou, moon, protract the melting strain,
And praise him in the shade.

Let every element rejoice:

Ye thunders, burst with awful voice
To him who bids you roll;
His praise in softer notes declare,
Each whispering breeze of yielding air,
And breathe it 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 flutt'ring on the gale,
In mutual concourse rise;
Crop the gay rose's vermeil bloom,
And waft its spoils, a sweet perfume,

In incense to the skies.

Wake, all ye mounting tribes, and sing;
Ye plumy warblers of the spring,
Harmonious anthems raise

To him who shaped your finer mould,
Who tipp'd your glitt'ring wings with gold,
And tuned your voice to praise.

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.

ETERNAL PROVIDENCE.

Ye whom the charms of grandeur please,
Nursed 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 formed to move,
Oh, 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.

JOHN LANGHORNE.

BORN, 1735; DIED, 1779.

ETERNAL PROVIDENCE.

LIGHT of the world, Immortal mind;
Father of all the human kind!

Whose boundless eye, that knows no rest,
Intent on Nature's ample breast,

Explores the space of earth and skies

And sees eternal incense rise!

To thee my humble voice I raise;
Forgive, while I presume to praise.

Though thou this transient being gave,
That shortly sinks into the grave;
Yet 'twas thy goodness still to give
A being that can think and live;
In all thy works thy wisdom see,
And stretch its tow'ring mind to thee.
To thee my humble voice I raise;
Forgive, while I presume to praise.

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And still this poor contracted span,
This life, that bears the name of man,
From thee derives its vital ray,
Eternal source of life and day!

Thy bounty still the sunshine pours,
That gilds its morn and evening hours.
To thee my humble voice I raise;
Forgive, while I presume to praise.

Through error's maze, through folly's night.
The lamp of reason lends me light;
Where stern affliction waves her rod,
My heart confides in thee, my God!
When nature shrinks, oppress'd with woes,
E'en then she finds in thee repose.
To thee my humble voice I raise;
Forgive, while I presume to praise.

Affliction flies, and hope returns;
Her lamp with brighter splendour burns;
Gay love with all his smiling train,
And peace and joy are here again.
These, these, I know 'twas thine to give;
I trusted, and, behold, I live!
To thee my humble voice I raise;
Forgive, while I presume to praise.

Oh, may I still thy favour prove!
Still grant me gratitude and love.
Let truth and virtue guard my heart;
Nor peace, nor hope, nor joy depart :
But yet, whate'er my life may be,
My heart shall still repose on thee!
To thee my humble voice I raise;
Forgive, while I presume to praise.

AN ADDRESS TO THE DEITY.

91

ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD.
BORN, 1743; DIED, 1825.

AN ADDRESS TO THE DEITY.

GOD of my life, and Author of my days!
Permit my feeble voice to lisp thy praise,
And trembling take upon a mortal tongue,
That hallow'd name, to harps of seraphs sung.
Yet here the brightest seraphs could no more
Than hide their faces, tremble, and adore.
Worms, angels, men, in ev'ry diff'rent sphere,
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 control,
And breathe an awful stillness through my soul;
As by a charm the waves of grief subside,
Impetuous passion stops 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 earth's gay pageants vanish from my eyes;
Till all my sense is lost in infinite,

And one vast object fills my aching sight.

But soon, alas! this holy calm is broke;
My soul submits to wear her wonted yoke:
With shackled pinions strives to soar in vain,
And mingles with the dross of earth again.
But he, our gracious Master, kind as just,
Knowing our frame, remembers man is dust.
His spirit ever brooding o'er our mind,
Sees the first wish to better hopes inclined;
Marks the young dawn of every virtuous aim,
And fans the smoking 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 silent tear,
And sighs are incense from a heart sincere.
Such are the vows, the sacrifice I give,
Accept the vow and bid the suppliant live :
From each terrestrial bondage set me free!
Still every wish that centres not in thee;
Bid my fond hopes, my vain disquiets cease,
And point my path to everlasting peace.
If the soft hand of winning pleasure leads
By living waters and through flow'ry meads,
Where all is smiling, tranquil and serene
And vernal beauty paints the flattering scene,
Oh! teach me to elude each latent snare,
And whisper to my sliding heart,-Beware!
With caution let me hear the siren's voice,
And doubtful with a trembling heart rejoice.
If friendless in a vale of tears I stray,

Where briers 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,
Resigned to die, or resolute to live;
Prepared 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 mystic characters I see
Wrought in each flower, inscrib'd on every 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 power,
In each event thy providence adore.
Thy hopes shall animate my drooping soul,
Thy precepts guide me, and thy fear control.
Thus shall I rest unmoved by all alarms,
Secure within the temple of thine arms;

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