When Jefus fhows a fmile, affrights not me; He hides me, and in vain the billows roar, Break harmless at my feet, and leave the shore.

Thou azure vault, where thro' the gloom of night, Thick fown, we fee fuch countless worlds of light! Thou Moon, whofe car encompaffing the skies, Reftores loft nature to our wondering eyes; Again retiring, when the brighter Sun

Begins the course he seems in haste to run!
Behold him where he fhines! His rapid rays,
Themselves unmeasured, measure all our days;
Nothing impedes the race he would pursue,
Nothing escapes his penetrating view,
A thousand lands confefs his quickening heat,
And all he cheers are fruitful, fair, and sweet.

Far from enjoying what these scenes disclose,
I feel the thorn, alas! but miss the rose :
Too well I know this aching heart requires
More folid good to fill its vast desires;
In vain they represent His matchless might,
Who call'd them out of deep primeval night;
Their form and beauty but augment my woe:
I feek the Giver of those charms they show:
Nor, Him befide, throughout the world He made,
Lives there in whom I truft for cure or aid.

Infinite God, thou great unrival'd ONE! Whofe glory makes a blot of yonder sun; Compared with thine, how dim his beauty seems, How quench'd the radiance of his golden beams! Thou art my blifs, the light by which I move; In Thee alone dwells all that I can love;

All darkness flies when Thou art pleased to appear,

A fudden spring renews the fading year;
Where'er I turn I fee thy power and grace,
The watchful guardians of our heedless race;
Thy various creatures in one strain agree,
All, in all times and places, fpeak of Thee;
E'en I, with trembling heart and stammering
tongue,

Attempt thy praise, and join the general fong.
Almighty Former of this wondrous plan,
Faintly reflected in thine image, Man-
Holy and juft, the greatness of whose name
Fills and supports this universal frame,
Diffused throughout the infinitude of space,
Who art Thyself thine own vast dwelling place;
Soul of our foul, whom yet no sense of ours
Difcerns, eluding our most active powers;
Encircling fhades attend thine awful throne,
That veil thy face, and keep thee still unknown;
Unknown, though dwelling in our inmost part,
Lord of the thoughts, and Sovereign of the heart.
Repeat the charming truth, that never tires,
No God is like the God my foul defires;
He at whofe voice heaven trembles, even He,
Great as he is, knows how to stoop to me.
Lo! there he lies-that smiling infant said,
"Heaven, earth, and sea exist!”—and they obey'd.
E'en He, whose Being swells beyond the skies,
Is born of woman, lives, and mourns, and dies;
Eternal and Immortal, feems to cast

That glory from his brows, and breathes his last.
Trivial and vain the works that man has wrought,

How do they shrink and vanish at the thought!
Sweet folitude, and scene of my repose!
This ruftic fight affuages all my woes:-
That crib contains the Lord, whom I adore;
And earth's a shade, that I pursue no more.
He is my firm fupport, my rock, my tower,
I dwell fecure beneath his fheltering power,
And hold this mean retreat for ever dear,
For all I love, my foul's delight, is here.
I fee the Almighty swathed in infant bands,
Tied helpless down the thunder-bearer's hands!
And, in this fhed that mystery difcern,

Which Faith and Love, and they alone, can learn.
Ye tempefts, fpare the flumbers of your Lord!
Ye zephyrs, all your whisper'd sweets afford!
Confefs the God that guides the rolling year;
Heaven, do him homage; and thou, Earth, revere !
Ye fhepherds, monarchs, fages, hither bring
Your hearts an offering, and adore your King!
Pure be those hearts, and rich in faith and love;
Join in his praise, the harmonious world above;
To Bethlehem haste, rejoice in his repose,
And praise him there for all that He bestows!
Man, bufy Man, alas, can ill afford

To obey the fummons, and attend the Lord;
Perverted reafon revels and runs wild,

By glittering shows of pomp and wealth beguiled;
And, blind to genuine excellence and grace,
Finds not her author in fo mean a place.

Ye unbelieving! learn a wifer part,

Diftruft your erring sense, and fearch your heart; There foon ye fhall perceive a kindling flame

Glow for that infant God, from whom it came;
Refift not, quench not, that divine defire,
Melt all your adamant in heavenly fire!

Not fo will I requite thee, gentle Love! Yielding and foft this heart fhall ever prove; And every heart beneath thy power should fall, Glad to fubmit, could mine contain them all. But I am poor, oblation I have none,

None for a Saviour, but Himself alone :
Whate'er I render Thee, from Thee it came :
And, if I give my body to the flame,
My patience, love, and energy divine
Of heart, and foul, and spirit, all are thine.
Ah, vain attempt to expunge the mighty score!
The more I pay, I owe thee ftill the more.
Upon my meanness, poverty, and guilt,
The trophy of thy glory shall be built;
My self-disdain shall be the unfhaken base,
And my deformity its faireft grace;
For deftitute of good, and rich in ill,
Must be my state and my defcription ftill.
And do I grieve at such an humbling lot?
Nay, but I cherish and enjoy the thought.
Vain
pageantry and pomp of earth, adieu!
I have no wish, no memory for you;
The more I feel my misery, I adore
The facred Inmate of my foul the more;
Rich in his love, I feel my nobleft pride
Spring from the sense of having nought befide.
In Thee I find wealth, comfort, virtue, might;
My wanderings prove Thy wisdom infinite;
All that I have I give Thee; and then fee

All contrarieties unite in thee;

For Thou haft join'd them, taking up our woe,
And pouring out thy blifs on worms below,
By filling with thy grace and love divine
A gulf of evil in this heart of mine.
This is, indeed, to bid the valleys rife,

And the hills fink—'tis matching Earth and Skies;
I feel my weakness, thank thee, and deplore
An aching heart, that throbs to thank thee more;
The more I love thee, I the more reprove

A foul fo lifelefs, and fo flow to love;
Till, on a deluge of thy mercy tofs'd,
I plunge into that fea, and there am lost.

2. GOD NEITHER KNOWN NOR
LOVED BY THE WORLD.

E Linnets, let us try, beneath this grove, Which fhall be loudeft in our Maker's praise!

In queft of fome forlorn retreat I rove,

For all the world is blind, and wanders from his

ways.

That God alone fhould prop the finking foul,
Fills them with rage against his empire now:
I traverse earth in vain from pole to pole,
To feek one fimple heart, fet free from all below.