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For man he taught the glorious sun to roll
How ther shall man, thus insolently proud, Plead with his Judge, and combat with his God? How from his mortal mother can he come Unstain'd from sin, untinctur'd from the womb ?
The Lord, from his sublime empyreal throne, As a dark globe regards the silver Moon; Those stars, that grace the wide celestial plain, Are but the humblest sweepings of his train; Dim are the brightest splendours of the sky, And the Sun darkens in Jehovah's eye. But does not sin diffuse a fouler stain, And thicker darkness cloud the soul of man? Shall he the depths of endless wisdom know? This short-liv'd sovereign of the world below ? His frail original confounds his boast, Sprung from the ground, and quicken'd from the dust.
THE SONG OF MOSES IN THE FIFTEENTH CHAPTER
OF EXODUS PARAPHRASED. Then to the Lord the vast triumphant throng Of Israel's sons, with Moses, rais'd the song. To God our grateful accents will we raise, And ev'ry tongue shall celebrate his praise : Behold display'd the wonders of his might! Behold the Lord triumphant in the fight! With what immortal fame and glory grac'd! What trophies rais'd amid the wat'ry waste ! How did his power the steeds and riders sweep Ingulf'd in heaps, and whelm'd beneath the deep!
Whom should we fear, while he, Heaven's awful
When to the fight, from Egypt's fruitful soil,
around, Lay midst the roarings of the surges drown'd. Who shall thy power, thou mighty God, withi
stand, And check the force of thy victorious hand ? Thy hand, which, red with wrath, in terror rose, To crush that day thy proud Egyptian foes. Struck by that hand, their drooping squadrons fall, Crowding in death; one fate o'erwheln them all
Soon as thy anger charg'd with vengeance camé, They sunk like stubble crackling in the flame.
At thy dread voice the summond billows crowd,
With savage joy the sons of Egypt cried,
As thus the yawning gulf the boasters pass'd, At thy command rush'd forth the rapid blast, Then, at the signal given, with dreadful sway, In one huge head roll'd down the roaring sea ; And now the disentangled waves divide, Unlock their folds, and thaw thy frozen tide. The deeps, alarm'd, call terribly from far The loud embattled surges to the war, Till her proud sons astonish'd Egypt found Cover'd with billows, and in tempests drown'd. | What god can emulate thy power divine, Or who oppose his miracles to thine ? When joyful we adore thy glorious name, Thy trembling foes confess their fear and shame; The world attends thy absolute command, And Nature waits the wonders of thine hand; That hand, extended o'er the swelling sea, The conscious billows reverence and obey,
O'er the devoted race the surges sweep,
power, Thy throne shall stand when time shall be no more: For Pharaoh's steeds and cars, and warlike train, Leap'd in, and boldly rang'd the sandy plain: While in the dreadful road, and desert way, The shining crowds of gasping fishes lay; Till, all around with liquid toils beset, The Lord swept o'er their heads the wat’ry net, He freed the ocean from his secret chain, And on each hand discharg'd the thund'ring maiu.
The loosen'd billows burst from every side,
THE HUNDRED AND THIRTY-NINTH PSALM
PARAPHRASED. O DREAD Jehovah! thy all-piercing eyes Explore the motions of this mortal frame, This tenement of dust: thy stretching sight Surveys the harmonious principles, that move In beauteous rank and order, to inform This cask, and animated mass of clay. Nor are the prospects of thy wond'rous sight To this terrestrial part of man confin'd; But shoot into his soul, and there discern The first materials of unfashion'd thought, Vet dim and undigested, till the mind, Big with the tender images, expands, And, swelling, labours with th’ ideal birth. Where'er I move, thy cares pursue my feet Attendant. When I drink the dews of sleep, Stretch'd on my downy bed, and there enjoy A sweet forgetfulness of all my toils, Unseen, thy sov'reign presence guards my sleep, Wafts all the terrors of my dreams away, Sooths all my soul, and softens my repose, Before conception can employ the tongue, And mould the ductile images to sound; Before imagination stands display'd,