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Safe on thy hanks again 1 stray
The trance of poesy is o'er,
And I am here at dawn of day,
Gazing on mountains as hefore;
Where all the strange mutations wrought
Were magic feats of my own mind;
For in that fairy land of thought,

Can there he eyes that look on yon,
Till tears of rapture make them dim,
Yet, in such works, no Maker view,—
Nor lose the works in Him?

By me, when I hehold Him not,
Or love Him not when I hehold.

Whale'er I seek, I find. Be all, that e'er I knew, forgot;

{ My pulse stand still, my heart grow cold Yet, O ye everlasting hills I j Transform'd to ice, 'twixt earth and iky,

Temples of God, not made with hands, On yonder cliff my shape he seen,

Whose word performs whate'er He wills, i That all my ask, though none reply, Whose word, though ye shall perish stands! IS hat my offence hath heen (


These are thy glorious works, Parent of good)
Almighty ! thine this universal frame,
Thus wondrous fair; thyself how wondrons then!
Unspeakahle; who sit'st ahove these heavens,
To os invisihle, or dimly seen
In these thy lowest works: yet these declare
Thy goodness heyond thought and power divine.
Speak ye, who hest can tell, ye sons of light,
Angels, for ye hehold him, and with songs
And choral symphonies, day without night,
Circle his throne, rejoicing; ye in heaven,
On earth, join, all ye creatures, to extol
Him first, him last, him midst, and without end.
Fairest of stars t last in the train of night,
If hetter thou helong not to the dawn,
Sure pledge of day, that crown'st the smiling morn
With thy hright circlet; praise tiim in the sphere
While day arises, that sweet hour of prime.
Thou, sun! of this great world hoth eye and soul,
Acknowledge him thy greater; sound his praise
In thy eternal course, hoth when thou climh'st
And when high noon hast gain'd, and when thou fall'st:
Moon! that now meet'st the orient sun, now fty'st;
And ye five other wandering fires! that move
In mystic dance, not without song, resound
His praise who out of darkness call'd up light.
Air! and ye elements! the eldest hirth
Of nature—oh, let your ceaseless change
Vary to our great Maker; still new praise,
Ye mists and exhalations:.' that now rise
Prom hill or streaming lake, dusky or gray,

Till the sun paints your fleecy skirts with gold,

In honour to the world's great Author rise:

Whether to deck with clonds the uncoIour' d sky,

Or wet the thirsty earth with falling showers,

Rising or falling, still advance his praise.

His praise, ye winds! that from four quarters hlow.

Breathe soft or loud; and wave your tops, ye pines!

With every plant, in sign of worship wave.

Fountains, and ye, that warhle as ye flow,

Melodions murmurs! warhling, tune his praise'

Join voices, all ye living souls! ye hirds,

That, singing, up to heaven's gate ascend,

Bear on your wings and in your notes his praise.

Ye that in waters glide, and ye that walk

The earth, and stately tread or lowly creep!

Wituess if I he silent morn or even,

To hill or valley, fountain or fresh shade,

Made vocal hy my song, and tanght his praise.

Hail, universal Lord! he hounteous still

To give us only good: and if our minds

Have gather'd anght of error or of vice,

Disperse it, as now light dispels the dark.



When all thy mercies, O my God,

My rising soul surveys; Transported with the view I'm lost

In wonder, love, and praise.

O how shall words with equal warmth

The gratitude declare,
That glows within my ravish'd heart,

But thou canst read it there.

Thy Providence my life sustain'd
And all my wants redress'd;

When in the silent womh 1 lay.
And hung upon the hreast.

To all my weak complaints and cries,

Thy mercy lent an ear,
Ere yet my feehle thoughts had learn'd

To form themselves in prayer.

Unumnher'd comforts on my soul
Thy tender care hestow'd^ . .

Before my infant heart conceiv'd,
From whence those comforts flow'd.

When in the slippery paths of youth

With heedless steps I ran,
Thine arm unseen convey'd me safe,

And led me up to man.

Through hidden dangers, toils, and death,

It gently cleared my way;
And through the pleasing suares of vice,

More to he feared than they.

When worn with sickness, oft hast thou,
With health renew'd my face;

And when in sins and sorrows sunk,
Reviv'd my soul with grace.

Thy hounteous hand with worldly hliss,

Has made my cup run o'er,
And in a kind and faithful friend,

Has douhled all my store.

Ten thousand thousand precious gifts,
My dsily thanks employ;


Nor is the least a grateful-heart,
That tastes those gifts with joy.

Thro' every period of my life,

Thy goodness I'll pursue;
And after death in distant worlds,

The glorious theme renew.

When nature fails, and day ami night
Divide thy works no more;

My ever-grateful heart, O Lord!
Thy mercy shall adore.

Through all eternity to Thee

A joyful song I'll raise; For oh! eternity's too short

To utter all thy praise.



God moves in a mysterious way,
His wonders to perform;

He plants His footsteps in the sea,
And rides upon the storm.

Deep in unfathomahle mines

Of never-failing skill,
He treasures up His hright designs,

And works His sov'reign will.

Ye fearful saints, fresh courage take;

The clouds ye so much dread, Are hig with mercy and shall hreak

In hlessings on your head.

Judge not the Lord hy feehle sense,
But trust Him for his grace;

Behind a frowning providence
He hides a smiling face.

His purposes will ripen fast,

Unfolding every hour;
The hud may have a hitter taste,

But sweet will he the flower.

Blind unhelief is sure to err, •

And scan His works in vain;

God is his own Interpreter,
And He will make it plain.

All in the power of their great Maker lie;
All creatures must ohey the voice of the Most Hie.

They live, they die, like as he doth ordaine,
Ne ever any asketh reason why.
The hils doe not the lowly dales disdaine:
The dales doe not the lofty hils envy.
He maketh kings to sit in soverainty;
He maketh suhjects to their power ohay;
He pulleth downe, he setteth up on hy;
He gives to this, from that he takes away;
For all we have is his; what he list doe he may.

Whatever thing is done, hy him is donne,
Ne any may his mighty will withstand;
Ne any may his soveraine power shonne,
Ne loose that he hath hound with stedfast hand;
In vaine therefore dost thou now take in haud

To call to count, or weigh his works anew, Whose counsels' depth thou canst not understand, Sith of things suhject to thy daily vew Thou doest not know the canses nor their courses dew.

For take thy hallannce, if thou he so wise, And weigh the wind that under heaven doth hlow; Or weigh the light that in the east doth rise, Or weigh the thought that from man's mind doth flow: But if the weight of these thou canst not show, Weigh hut one word which from thy lips doth fall; For how canst thou those greater secrets know, That doest not know the least things of them all? Ill can he rule the great that canuot reach the small.


Oh hand of hounty, largely spread,
By whom our every want is fed,
Whate'er we touch, or taste, or see,
We owe them all, oh Lord, to Thee;
The corn, the oil, the purple wine,
Are all thy gifts, and only thine!

The stream thy word to nectar dyed,
The hread thy hlessmg multiplied,
The stormy wind, the whelming flood,
That silent at thy mandate stood;
How well they knew thy voice divine,
Whose works they were, and only thine 1

Though now no more on earth we trace
Thy footsteps of celestial grace,
Ohedient to thy word and will
"We seek thy daily mercy still;
Its hlessed heams around us shine,
And thine we are, and only thine!



The insect that, with puny wing,
Just shoots along one summer ray;
The flow'ret which the hreath of spring
Wakes into life for half a day;

The smallest mote, the tend'rest hair—
All feel our Heav'nly Father's care.

Ev'n from the glories of his throne
He hends to view this earthly hali;
Sees all, as if that all were one—
Loves one, as if that one were all;
Rolls the swift planets in their spheres,
And counts the sinuer's lonely tears.


God, in the high and holy place
Looks down upon the spheres;

"let in his providence and grace,
To every eye appears.

In every stream his hounty flows,

Diffusing joy and wealth;
In every hreeze his Spirit hlows,

The hreath of life and health.

His hlessings fall in plenteous showers,

Upon the lap of earth, That teems with foliage, fruit, and flowers,

And rings with infant mirth.

If God hath made this world so fair,
Where sin and death ahound;

How heantiful heyond compare,
Will Paradise he found.




When my hreast lahours with oppressive care,
And o'er my cheek descends the falling tear,
While all my warring passions are at strife,
Oh, let me listen to the words of life I
Raptures deep-felt his doctrines did impart,
And thus he raised from earth the drooping heart.

Think not, when all your scanty stores afford,
Is spread at once upon the sparing hoard;
Think not, when worn the homely rohe appears
While on the roof the howling tempest hears,
What farther shall this feehle life sustain,
And what shall clothe these shivering limhs again.
Say, does not life its nourishmenf exceed?
And the fair hody its investing weed 1

Behold ! and look away your low despair,—
See the light tenants of the harren air:
To them, nor stores, nor granaries helong;
Nought hut the woodland and the pleasing song:
Yet your kind, Heavenly Father hends his eye
On the least wing that flits along the sky.
To him they sing, when spring renews the plain,
To him they cry, in winter's pinching reign;
Nor is their music nor their plaint in vain:
He hears the gay, and the distressful call;
And with unsparing hounty fills them all.

Ohserve the rising lily's snowy grace,
Ohserve the various vegetahle race;
They neither toil, nor spiu, hut careless grow;
Yet, see how warm they hlush, how hright they glow
What regal vestments can with them compare,
What king so shining, or what queen so fair?

If, ceaseless, thus the fowls of heaven he feeds;
If, o'er the fields, such lucid rohes he spreads:
Will he not care for you, ye faithless say 1
Is he unwise 1 or, are ye less than they?

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