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PIOUS MISCELLANY,

VERSE AND PROSE.

IN SIX BOOK S.

Τ Η Ε

REV. DR." COYL E.

VOL. I.

STR A B A NE:
PRINTED BY JOHN BELLEW.

M.DCC.LXXXVIII.

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Othee, my God, Creator, heav'nly King, Eternal Pontiff, sov'reign Lord, I fing; The feeble efforts of my soul entire, With unction melt, celestial flame inspire. To thee, bless’d Mary, after Christ, belong The lauds incessant of my humble song. At whose request, the gracious Son divine Chang'd perfect water into precious wine; My native darkness into light exchange, Correct my fenfes, and my thoughts arrange. All evil from thy flock, my God, avert And with thy love, embalm thy servant's heart. Indulgent Mother, ever hallow'd Queen, Thy clients from the wrath of Heaven screen; The sacred bullion of my lays are thine ; The bark alone, the barren letter mine. Left I fliould, thro' some human weakness, stray, Be thou my guide, and change my night to day. To stumble should my weaker thoughts begin, Not from my wil, but, ah! th effect of fin, I trust, however, in thy pow'rful aid, That I shall not from hallow'd truth fecede; That truth, which I fuck'd from the genia' breast Of Christ's diffusive Cirurch, from East to Veit. Which never could, should Heav'n aird Earth decay: Deceive, or lead the foul of man astray. Yes! to her judgment, under Christ, be these Aly essays left, my self, and humble lays.

Vol. I.

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