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But lost, dissolv'd in thy superior rays,
One tide of glory, one unclouded blaze,
O'erflow thy courts: the Light himself shall shine
Reveal'd, and God's eternal day be thine!
The seas shall waste, the skies in smoke decay,
Rocks fall to dust, and mountains melt away;
But fix'd his word, his saving power remains,
Thy realm for ever lasts, thy own Messiah reigns.

THE DEATH OF THE RIGHTEOUS.

OH! most delightful hour, by man
Experienc'd here below;

The hour that terminates his span,
His folly, and his woe.

Cowper.

Worlds should not bribe me back, to tread

Again life's dreary waste,

To see again my day o'erspread
With all the gloomy past.

My home, henceforth, is in the skies;

Earth, seas, and sun, adieu!

All heaven unfolded to my eyes,

I have no sight for you.

So spake Aspasio; firm possess'd
Of Faith's supporting rod;
Then breath'd his soul into its rest,

The bosom of his God.

He was a man, among the few,
Sincere on Virtue's side;

And all his strength from Scripture drew
To hourly use applied.

That rule he priz'd; by that he fear'd,

He hated, hop'd, and lov'd;
Nor ever frown'd, nor sad appear'd,

But when his heart had rov'd.

For he was frail, as thou or I,
And evil felt within;

But when he felt it, heav'd a sigh,
And loath'd the thought of sin.

Such liv'd Aspasio; and, at last,
Call'd up from earth to heaven;
The gulph of death triumphant pass'd,
By gales of blessing driven.

His joys be mine, each reader cries,
When my last hour arrives;

They shall be your's, my verse replies,
Such only be your lives.

THE TWENTY-FIFTH CHAPTER OF JOB

PARAPHRASED.

Pitt.

THEN will vain man complain and murmur still,
And stand on terms with his Creator's will?
Shall this high privilege to clay be given?
Shall dust arraign the providence of heaven?
With Reason's line the boundless distance scan?
Oppose heaven's awful Majesty to man?

To what a length his vast dimensions run!
How far beyond the journeys of the sun!
He hung yon golden balls of light on high;
He launch'd the planets through the liquid sky;
To rolling worlds he mark'd the certain space;
Fix'd and maintain'd the elemental peace.
Unnumber'd as those worlds his armies move,
And the gay legions guard his realms above.
High o'er the ethereal plains the myriads rise,
And pour their flaming ranks along the skies.
From their bright arms incessant splendours stream,
And the wide azure kindles with the gleam.
To this low world he bids the light repair,
Down through the gulphs of undulating air.
For man he taught the glorious sun to roll,
From his bright barrier to the western goal.
How then shall man, thus insolently proud,
Plead with his Judge and combat with his God?
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.

ODE, ON THE GLORIES OF THE HEAVENS.

Addison.

THE spacious firmament on high,
With all the blue ethereal sky,
And spangled heav'ns, a shining frame,
Their great Original proclaim :
Th' unwearied Sun, from day to day,
Does his Creator's pow'r display,
And publishes to every land

The work of an Almighty hand.

Soon as the evening shades prevail,
The Moon takes up the wond'rous tale,
And nightly, to the list'ning earth,
Repeats the story of her birth:
Whilst all the stars that round her burn,
And all the planets in their turn,
Confirm the tidings as they roll,

And spread the truth from pole to pole.

What though in solemn silence, all

Move round yon bright and glorious ball;
What though nor real voice nor sound
Amid their radiant orbs be found;

In reason's ear they all rejoice,
And utter an instructive voice,
For ever singing as they shine,
The hand that made us is divine.

PASTORAL HYMN ON PROVIDENCE.

Addison.

THE Lord my pasture shall prepare,
And feed me with a shepherd's care;
His presence shall my wants supply,
And guard me with a watchful eye.
My noon-day walks he shall attend,
And all my midnight hours defend.
When in the sultry glebe I faint,
Or on the thirsty mountains pant;
To fertile vales and dewy meads,
My weary wand'ring steps he leads,
Where peaceful rivers, soft and slow,
Amid the flow'ry landscape flow.
Though in the paths of death I tread,
With gloomy horrors overspread;
My stedfast heart shall fear no ill,
For Thou, O Lord, art with me still;
Thy friendly crook shall give me aid,
And guide me through the dreadful shade.
Though in a bare and rugged way,
Through devious lonely wilds I stray,
Thy presence shall my pains beguile,
The barren wilderness shall smile,
With sudden

greens and herbage crown'd, And streams shall murmur all around.

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