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Man may conjecture, and new schemes declare,
Yet all his fyftems but conjectures are ;
But this we know, that heav'n's eternal King,
Who bid this universe from nothing spring,
Can, at His word, bid nym'rous worlds appear,
And rifing worlds th' all-pow'rful word shall hear,
When to the western main the fun defcends,
To other lands a rifing day he lends;
The Spreading dawn another fhepherd spies,
The wakeful flocks from their warm folds arife;
Refresh'd, the peasant seeks his early toil,
And bids the plough correct the fallow foil.
While we in Sleep's embraces waste the Night,
The climes oppos'd enjoy meridian light;
And when thofe lands the bufy fun forfakes,
With us again the rofy Morning wakes;
In lazy fleep the Night rolls fwift away,
And neither clime laments his abfent ray.
When the pure foul is from the body flown,
No more fhall Night's alternate reign be known;
The fun no more shall rolling light bestow,
But from th' Almighty ftreams of glory flow.
Oh! may fome nobler thought my foul employ,
Than empty, tranfient, fublunary joy.
The ftars fhall drop, the fun fhall loofe his flame,
But thou, O God! for ever fhine the fame.
WHEN all thy mercies, O my God,
My rifing foul furveys;
Tranfported with the view, I'm loft
In wonder, love, and praise.
O how fhall words, with equal warmth,
The gratitude declare,
That glows within my ravish'd heart?
But thou canst read it there.
Thy providence my life fuftain'd,
And all my wants redreft,
When in the filent womb I lay,
And hung upon the breast.
To all my weak complaints and cries
Thy mercy lent an ear,
Ere yet my feeble thoughts had learnt
To form themselves in pray❜r.
Unnumber'd comforts to my foul
Thy tender care bestow'd,
Before my infant heart conceiv'd
From whom thofe comforts flow'd.
When in the flipp'ry paths of youth
With heedlefs fteps I ran,
Thine arm unfeen convey'd me fafe,
And led me up to man.
Through hidden dangers, toils, and deaths, It gently clear'd my way,
And through the pleafing fnares of vice,
More to be fear'd than they.
When worn with fickness, oft haft Thou
With health renew'd my face,
And, when in fins and forrows funk,
Reviv'd my foul with grace.
Thy bounteous hand with worldly blifs
Hath made my cup run o'er,
And in a kind and faithful friend
Hath doubl'd all my store.
Ten thousand thousand precious gifts
My daily thanks employ,
Nor is the leaft a cheerful heart,
That taftes thofe gifts with joy,
Through ev'ry period of my life
Thy goodness I'll purfue;
And after death in diftant worlds
The glorious theme renew.
When nature fails, and day and night
Divide thy works no more,
My ever grateful heart, O Lord,
Thy mercy fhall adore.
Through all eternity to Thee
A joyful fong I'll raise,
For O! eternity's too short
To utter all thy praife.
THE Lord my pafture shall prepare,
And feed me with a shepherd's care:
His prefence shall my wants fupply,
And guard me with a watchful eye;
My noon-day walks he shall attend,
And all my midnight hours defend.
When in the fultry glebe I faint,
Or on the thirsty mountains pant;
To fertile vales, and dewy meads,
My weary, wand'ring steps he leads;
Where peaceful rivers, soft and flow,
Amid the verdant landscape flow.
Though in the paths of death I tread,
With gloomy horrors overspread,
My ftedfaft heart shall fear no ill,
For thou, O Lord, art with me ftill;
Thy friendly crook (hall give me aid,
And guide me through the dreadful shade.
Though in a bare and rugged way,
Through devious lonely wilds I stray,
Thy bounty fhall my pains beguile:
The barren wilderness fhall fmile,
With fudden greens and herbage crown'd;
And fireams fhall murmur all around.
FROM PSALM XIX:
THE fpacious firmament on high;
With all the blue ethereal sky,
And fpangled heav'ns, a fhining frame,
Their great Original proclaim :
Th' unwearied fun from day to day,
Does his Creator's pow'r difplay,
And publishes to every land
The work of an Almighty hand.
Soon as the ev'ning shades prevail,
The moon takes up the wondrous tale, And nightly to the lift'ning earth
Repeats the story of her birth:
Whilft all the stars that round her burn, And all the planets in their turn, Confirm the tidings as they roll,
And fpread the truth from pole to pole.
What though in folemn filence all
Move round the dark terreftrial ball!
What though nor real voice nor found
Amid their radiant orbs be found!
In reafon's ear they all rejoice,
And utter forth a glorious voice;
For ever finging as they fhine,
"The hand that made us is Divine !"