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Who vice, in all its pomp and pow'r,
Can treat with just neglect;
And piety, though cloath'd in rags,
Religiously respect.

Who to his plighted vows and trust
Has ever firmly stood:

And, tho' he promise to his loss,
Yet makes his promise good.

The man, who, by this steady course,
Has happiness ensur'd,

When earth's foundation shakes, shall stand,
By providence secur'd.

PSALM XV.-Mason.

LORD! who may to thy love aspire,
Or hope to join thy heavenly choir;
But he who rests on thee his trust,
Whose thoughts are pure, his actions just,"
Whose word is truth, whose open heart
Disdains the mean disguise of art;
Who, swift to praise, as slow to blame,
Guards as his own his neighbour's fame.
Despising earthly pomp and state,
He knows the good alone are great.
If danger wakes, or justice sleeps,
Alike, if giv'n, his word he keeps.

No gains luxurious swell his hoard,
No guiltless blood embrues his sword;
Whom no rewards to vice allure,
He, walking wisely, walketh sure.

PSALM XIX.-Addison.

THE spacious firmament on high,
With all the blue ethereal sky,
And spangled heavens, a shining frame,
Their great Original proclaim:
Th' unwearied sun, from day to day,
Does his Creator's pow'r display,
And publishes to every land
The work of an Almighty hand.

Soon as the evening shades prevail,
The moon takes up
the wond'rous tale,
And nightly to the list'ning earth
Repeats the story of her birth:
Whilst all the stars that round her burn,
And all the planets in their turn,
Confirm the tidings as they roll,
And spread the truth from pole to pole.

What though, in solemn silence, all
Move round the dark terrestrial ball?
What though no real voice nor sound
Amid their radiant orbs be found?

In reason's ear they all rejoice,
And utter forth a glorious voice,
For ever singing, as they shine,
"The Hand that made us is Divine."


THE LORD my pasture shall prepare,
And feed me with a shepherd's care :
His presence shall my wants supply,
And guard me with a watchful eye;
My noon-day walks He shall attend,
And all my midnight hours defend.

When in the sultry glebe I faint,
Or on the thirsty mountain pant;
To fertile vales and dewy meads
My weary wand'ring steps He leads;
Where peaceful rivers, soft and slow,
Amid the verdant landscape flow.

Though in the paths of death I tread,
With gloomy horrors overspread,
My stedfast heart shall fear no ill,
For thou, O LORD, art with me still;
Thy friendly crook shall 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 shall my pains beguile,
The barren wilderness shall smile,
With sudden greens and herbage crown'd,
And streams shall murmur all round.


THE LORD JEHOVAH doth my spirit keep,
The great good Shepherd of the chosen sheep;
How then, alas! O how can I repine,

When all that is, is CHRIST's, and CHRIST is mine?
Oft on my journey as I pant for rest,
With hunger famish'd, and with thirst opprest;
Far from the dusty whirl of care and strife,
He gently leads me to the Word of Life:
There on the arm of Faith my head reclin'd,
In pleasant pastures sweet repose I find ;
Where springs for evermore, from holy ground,
Each herb for med'cine or for food renown'd;
A crystal stream, the solace of our woes,
From GOD's high throne, thro' all those pastures

Of this world's lust to quench the burning heat,
And all her sorrows make the soul forget.
My Shepherd's love, O! how shall I repay?
Who first recall'd me, when I went astray;
From heav'n He came, and left the angels there,
To seek and save me, lost in deserts drear;
For errors past, He paid the ransom down,
And gave me wisdom, and a strength unknown,
To find and keep the way that leads to glory's crown.


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What tho' betwixt us lies Death's shadowy vale,
And clouds and darkness on the prospect dwell,
The path I tread, my SAVIOUR trod before,
And that blest tree, which once His body bore,
Firm grasp'd by Hope, is ever at my side,
A rod to conquer, and a staff to guide.
This shall conduct me thro' the dismal road,
And place me glorious on the mount of God,
Where heav'n's high King His table has prepar'd
For those who, while on earth, His sorrows shar'd;
Blest souls, who taste the mercies of the LORD,
And drink delights from cups exhaustless pour'd;
Joy everlasting on their heads descends!
Behold, ye scorners, and despair, ye fiends.
Come, dearest LORD, all-gracious Shepherd, come,
And lead a poor lost sheep in safety home.
O! let Thy watchful care my steps attend,
'Till this sad pilgrim's life shall have an end;
Then, when the hand that gave, demands my

Crown all Thy mercies with a Christian death;
My soul to Sion's hill let angels bear,
Amidst the flock redeemed to appear,

And with the Shepherd Lamb abide for ever there.

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