HIMN FOR PARDON.

When rising from the bed of death,

O'erwhelm'd with guilt and fear,
I see my Maker face to face,

O how shall I appear ?
If yet, while pardon may be found,

And mercy may be sought,
My heart with inward horror shrinks,

And trembles at the thought :
When thou, O Lord! shalt stand disclos’d

In majesty severe,
And sit in judgment on my soul,

O how shall I appear?

But thou hast told the troubled soul,

Who does her sins lament, The timely tribute of her tears

Shall endless wo prevent.

Then see the sorrows of my heart,

Ere yet it be too late ;
And add my Saviour's dying groans,

To give those sorrows weight.
For never shall my soul despair

Her pardon to procure,
Who knows thy only Son has died

To make that pardon sure.

Addison.

PARAPHRASE ON PSALM XXIII.

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 wandering 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 steadfast 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 wants beguile;
The barren wilderness shall smile,
With sudden greens and herbage crown'd,
And streams shall murmur all around.

Addison

UNIVERSAL PRAYER.

FATHER of all! in every age,

In every clime ador'd,
By saint, by savage, and by sage,

Jehovah, Jove, or Lord!
Thou great First Cause, least understood

Who all my sense confin'd
To know but this—that thou art goodo

And that myself am blind :
Yet gave me, in this dark estate,

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

Left free the human will.
What conscience dictates to be done,

Or warns me not to do,
This teach me more than Hell to shuns

That more than Heaven 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 span

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.

14

VOL. I.

If I am right, thy grace impart,

Still in the right to stay ; If I am wrong, o teach

my

heart
To find that better way!
Save me alike from foolish pride,

And impious discontent,
At aught thy wisdom has denied,

Or aught thy goodness lent.
Teach me to feel another's wo,

To hide the fault I see;
That
mercy

I to others show,
That mercy show to me.
Mean though I am, not wholly so,

Since quicken'd by thy breath :
O lead me, whereso'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, sea, skies,
One chorus let all beings raise !

All nature's incense rise!

Pope.

SONG OF THE THREE CHILDREN.

Ye works of God, on him alone,
In Earth his footstool, Heav'n his throne,

Be all your praise bestow'd;

Whose hand the beauteous fabric made, Whose eye the finish'd work survey'd,

And saw that all was good.

Ye angels, that with loud acclaim
Admiring view'd the new-born frame,

And hail'd the Eternal King,
Again proclaim your Maker's praise,
Again your thankful voices raise,

And touch the tuneful string.

Praise him, ye blest ethereal plains,
Where, in full majesty, he deigns

To fix his awful throne:
Ye waters, that above him roll,
From orb to orb, from pole to pole,

O make his praises known!

Ye thrones, dominions, virtues, pow’rs,
Join ye your joyful songs with ours;

With us your voices raise !
From age to age extend the lay,
To Heaven's Eternal Monarch pay

Hymns of eternal praise.

Celestial orb! whose powerful ay
Opes the glad eyelids of the day,

Whose influence all things own; Praise him, whose courts effulgent shinc With light as far excelling thine,

As thine the paler Moon.