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That pow'r which rais'd and still upholds
This universal frame,
Was ever still the same.
Which seem to us so vast,
Than yesterday that's past.
Is to existence brought;
Return ye into nought!
In everlasting sleep;
With overwhelming sweep.
In beauty's pride array'd;
A PRAYER WRITTEN, AND LEFT, IN THE ROOM IN
WHICH THE AUTHOR SLEPT FOR A NIGHT AT
THE HOUSE OF A FRIEND.*
I know thou wilt me hear:
I make my prayer sincere.
* Dr. Laurie, then minister of the parish of Loudon.
The hoary sire-the mortal stroke,
Long, long, be pleas'd to spare ; To bless his little filial flock,
And show what good men are.
She, who her lovely offspring eyes
With tender hopes and fears,
And spare a mother's tears ?
In manhood's dawning blush ;
Up to a parent's wish.
With earnest tears I pray,
A PRAYER, UNDER THE PRESSURE OF VIOLENT
Surpasses me to know:
Are all thy works below.
Thy creature here before thee stands,
All wretched and distrest;
Obey thy high behest.
Sure thou, Almighty, canst not act
From cruelty or wrath :
Or close them fast in death!
But if I must afflicted be,
To suit some wise design;
To bear and not repine.
A PRAYER IN THE PROSPECT OF DEATH.
O Thou unknown, Almighty Cause
Of all my hope and fear!
Perhaps I must appear!
Of life I ought to shun;
Remonstrates I have done;
Thou know'st that thou hast formed me
With passions wild and strong; And list’ning to their witching voice
Has often led me wrong.
Where human weakness has come short,
Or frailty stept aside,
In shades of darkness hide.
When with intention I have err'd,
No other plea I have,
Delighteth to forgive.
SUNDAY HYMN, IN IMITATION OF DR. WATTS,
This is the day the Lord of life
Ascended to the skies;
And to the Heavens arise.
Let no vain cares divert my mind
From the celestial road;
Detain my soul from God.
Think of the splendours of that place,
The joys that are on high ; Nor meanly rest contented here,
With worlds beneath the sky.
Heav'n is the birth-place of the saints,
To Heav'n their souls ascend;
Oh! may these lovely titles prove
My comfort and defence,
And death shall call me hence.
Hark! the prophetic raven brings
A solemn darkness spreads the tomb,
Tell me, my soul, oh tell me why
When conscious guilt arrests the mind,