« ZurückWeiter »
My sted fast heart shall fear no ill,
Though in a bare and rugged way,
BY THE SAME.
When all thy mercies, O my God!
My rising soul surveys; Transported with the view, I'm lost
In wonder, love, and praise !
O! how shall words with equal warmth
The gratitude declare,
But thou canst read it there.
Thy providence my life sustain’d,
And all my wants redrest, When in the silent womb I lay,
And hung upon the breast.
To all my weak complaints and cries
Thy mercy lent an ear,
To form themselves in prayer.
Unnumber'd comforts to my
soul Thy tender care bestow'd, Before my infant heart couceiv'd
From whom those comforts flow'd.
When in the slipp'ry paths of youth
With heedless steps I ran,
And led me up to man.
Through hidden dangers, toils, and deaths,
It gently clear'd my way, And through the pleasing snares of vice,
More to be fear'd than they.
When worn with sickness, ost hast thou
With health renew'd my face, And when in sins and sorrow sunk,
Reviv'd my soul with grace.
Thy bounteous hand with wordly bliss
Has made my cup run o'er, And in a kind and faithful friend
Has doubled all my store.
Ten thousand thousand precious gifts
My daily thanks employ,
That tastes those gifts with joy.
Through every period of my life
Thy goodness I'll pursue;
The glorious theme renew.
When nature fails, and day and night
Divide thy works no more, My ever-grateful heart, OʻLord!
Thy mercy shall adore.
Through all eternity to thee,
A joyful song I'll raise, But, oh! eternity's too short
To utter all thy praise.
BY THE SAME.
Tue lofty pillars of the sky,
Th’unwearied sun, from day to day,
How short is life's uncertain space!
Alas! how quickly done!
hard to run!
Youth stops at first its wilful ears
To wisdom's prudent voice; Till now arriv'd to riper years, Experienc'd age, worn out with cares,
Repents its earlier choice.
What though its prospects now appear
So pleasing and refin'd; Yet groundless hope, and anxious fear, By turns the busy moments share,
And prey upon the mind,
Sivce then false joys our fancy cheat
With hopes of real bliss ; Ye guardian pow'rs that rule my fate, The only wish that I create,
Is all compris'd in this:
May I through life's uncertain tide,
Be still from pain exempt;
And yet above contempt.
But should your providence divine
A greater bliss intend; May all those blessings you design, (If e'er those blessings shall be mine)
Be centr'd in a friend.