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,
O, bless her with a mother's joys,
And spare a mother's tears!

Their hope, their stay, their darling youth,
In manhood's dawning blush;
Bless him, thou God of love and truth,
Up to a parent's wish.

The beauteous, seraph, sister-band,
With earnest tears I pray,

Thou knows't the snares on every hand,

Guide thou their steps alway.

When soon or late they reach that coast,
O'er life's rough ocean driv❜n,

May they rejoice, no wand'rer lost,
A family in Heav'n!

Burns.

A PRAYER, UNDER THE PRESSURE OF VIOLENT

ANGUISH.

O THOU Great Being! what thou art

Surpasses me to know:

Yet sure I am, that known to thee

Are all thy works below.

Thy creature here before thee stands,
All wretched and distrest;

Yet sure those ills that wring my soul
Obey thy high behest.

Sure thou, Almighty, canst not act
From cruelty or wrath:

O, free my weary eyes from tears,
Or close them fast in death!

But if I must afflicted be,

To suit some wise design;

Then man my soul with firm resolves

To bear and not repine.

Burns.

A PRAYER IN THE PROSPECT OF DEATH.

THOU unknown, Almighty Cause
Of all my hope and fear!

In whose dread presence, ere an hour,
Perhaps I must appear!

If I have wander'd in those paths
Of life I ought to shun;
As something, loudly, in my breast
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,

Do thou, All-Good! for such thou art,
In shades of darkness hide.

When with intention I have err'd,

No other plea I have,

But, Thou art good, and goodness still

Delighteth to forgive.

Burns.

SUNDAY HYMN, IN IMITATION OF DR. WATTS,

THIS is the day the Lord of life

Ascended to the skies;

My thoughts, pursue the lofty theme,

And to the Heavens arise.

Let no vain cares divert

my mind

From the celestial road;

Nor all the honours of the Earth
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;
Th' Almighty owns his favourite race
As father and as friend.

HARK! the prophetic raven brings
My summons on his boding wings ;
The birds of night my fate foretel,
The prescient death-watch sounds my knell.

A solemn darkness spreads the tomb,
But terrors haunt the midnight gloom;
Methinks a browner horror falls,
And silent spectres sweep the walls.

Tell me, my soul, oh tell me why
The faltering tongue, the broken sigh?
The manly cheeks bedew'd with tears,
Tell me, my soul, from whence these fears?

When conscious guilt arrests the mind,
Avenging furies stalk behind,
And sickly fancy intervenes,
To dress the visionary scenes.

Jesus! to thee I'll fly for aid,
Propitious Sun, dispel the shade;
All the pale family of fear

Would vanish were my Saviour here.

VOL. I.

15

No more imagin'd spectres walk,
No more the doubtful echoes talk;
Soft zephyrs fan the neighbouring trees,
And meditation mounts the breeze.

How sweet these sacred hours of rest,
Fair portraits of the virtuous breast,
Where lawless lust, and passion rude,
And folly never dare intrude!

Be others' choice the sparkling bowl;
And mirth, the poison of the soul;
Or midnight dance, and public shows,
Parents of sickness, pains, and woes :

A nobler joy my thoughts design;
Instructive solitude be mine:
Be mine that silent calm repast,
A cheerful conscience to the last.

That tree which bears immortal fruit, Without a canker at the root;

That friend which never fails the just, When other friends desert their trust.

Come then, my soul, be this thy guest,
And leave to knaves and fools the rest
With this thou ever shalt be gay,
And night shall brighten into day.

With this companion in the shade,
Surely thou couldst not be dismay'd;
But if thy Saviour here were found,
All Paradise would bloom around.