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* And of my garden be the pride and joy! « Ill it befits thee, oh it ill befits Acasto's daughter, his, whoʻe open stores, “ Though vast, were little to his amplcr heart, " The father of a country, thus to pick “ The very refuse of those harvest-fields, " Which from his bounteous friendship I enjoy! “ Then throw that Thameful pittance from thy hand, “ But ill apply'd to such a rugged task ; “ The fields, the master, all, my Fair! are thine, “ If to the various blessings which thy house Has on me lavish'd, thou wilt add that bliss, 6. That dearest bliss, the power of blessing thee!”

Here ceas'd the youth: yet still his speaking eye Express’d the sacred triumph of his soul, With conscious virtue, gratitude, and love, Above the vulgar joy divinely rais’d. Nor waited he reply. Won by the charm Of goodness irresistible, and all In sweet disorder loft, she blush'd consent. The news immediate to her mother brought, While, pierc'd with anxious thought, The pin’d away The lonely moments for Lavinia's fate; Amaz’d, and scarce believing what the heard, Joy feizd her wither'd veins, and one bright gleam Of setting life shone on her evening hours: Not less enraptur'd than the happy pair;

Who flourish'd long in tender blifs, and rear'd
A numerous offspring, lovely like themselves,
And good, the grace of all the country round.



FATHER of all! in ev'ry age;

In ev'ry clime ador’d,
Py saint, by savage, and by sage,

Jehovah, Jove, or Lord !

Thou great first cause, leaft understood;

Who all my sense confin'd
To know but this, that thou art good,

And that myself am blind.

Yet gave me, in this dark estate,

To see the good from ill;
And binding nature fast in fate,

Lest free the human will.

What conscience dictates to be done,

Or warns me not to do,
This, teach me more than hell to thun,

That, more than heav'n pursue.

What blessings thy free bounty gives,

Let me not cast away; For God is paid when man receives,

T'enjoy is to obey.

Yet not to earth's contracted fpan

Thy goodness let me bound,
Or think thee Lord alone of man,

When thousand worlds are round:

Let not this weak, unknowing hand

Presume thy bolts to throw, And deal damnation round the land

On each I judge thy foe.

If I am right, thy grace impart,

Still in the right to stay;
If I am wrong, oh teach my heart

To find that better way.

Save me alike from foolith pride,

Or impious discontent,
At aught thy wisdom has deny'd

Or aught thy goodness lent.',

Teach me to feel another's woc,

To hide the fault I fee; That mercy I to others show,

That mercy show to me,

Mean though I am, not wholly so,

Since quick’ned by thy breath O lead me whereroe'er I go,

Through this day's life or death,

This day, be bread and peace my lot:

All else beneath the sun,
Thou know'st if best bestow'd'or not,

And let thy will be done.

To thee, whose temple is all space,

Whose altar, earth, fea, skies! One chorus let all being raise !

All nature's incense rise!

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The Lord my pasture. shall prepare,
And feed me with a thepherd'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 Now,
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 snade.

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 Tall murmur all around.

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