When in the slipp'ry paths of youth

With heedless steps I ran,
Thine arm unseen convey'd me safe,

And led me up to man.

Thro' 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, oft hast thou

With health renew'd my face, And when in sins and sorrows funk,

Reviv'd my foul with grace.

Thy bounteous hand with worldly bliss

Has made my cup run o'er, And in a kind and faithsul friend

Has doubled all my store.

Ten thousand thousand precious gifts.

My daily thanks employ,
Nor is the least a chearsul heart,

That tastes those gifts with joy.

Thro' every period of my life

Thy goodness I'll pursue;
And after death in distant worlds

The glorious theme renew.

D 6 Whers

When nature fails, and day and night
Divide thy works no more,

My ever-gratesul heart, O Lord,
Thy mercy shall adore.

Thro' all eternity to thee

A joysul song I'll raise, For oh! eternity's too short

To utter all thy praise*


THE spacious sirmament on high,
With all the blue ethereal sky, .
And spangled heavens, a mining 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 th' ev'ning shades prevail,
The moon takes up the wondrous tase»
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,
Consirm the tidings as they roll,
And spread the truth from pole to pole.


What thou, in solemn silence, all
Move round the dark terrestrial ball I
What tho' nor real voice nor sound
Amid their radiant orbs be found?
In reason's ear they all rejoice,
And utter forth a glorious voice,
For ever singing, as they shine,
"The hand that made us is divine."



By Mr. Ooilvie,
From the First Book.

COME, heav'nly muse, my raptur'd soul inspire,
Touch with one beam of thy celestial sire,
A soul, that rising with sublime delight
Leaves worlds behind in its aerial flight;
Mounts o'er the skies, unusual heights to soar,
Where Young and Angels only flew before.
I leave unheeded ev'ry mortal care,
The victor's pomp, and all the scenes of war:
A nobler aim invites my song to rife:
No praise I sing, but his who form'd the skies:
No scenes, but nature's burning vaults disolay'd;
No pow'r, but that which wakes the sleeping dead.
My theme how vast! the sun's extinguished rays;
Ten thousand stars in one devouring blaze;
That doom, the guilty wretch must dread to hear;
The last loud trump that stops the rolling sphere;
The crowds that burst from earth's dissolving frame;
All heaven descending, and a world on flame.
O Thou, whose hands the bolted thunder form,
Whose wings the whirlwind, and whose breath the storm:
Tremendous God! this wond'ring bosom raise,
And warm each thought that would attempt thy praise.


6! while I mount along th' etherial way,
To softer regions, and unclouded day,
Pass the long tracks where darting lightnings glow.
Or trembling view the boiling deeps below;
Lead thro' the dubious maze, direct the whole,
Lend heav'nly aid to my transported soul,
Teach ev'ry nobler power to guide my tongue,
And touch the heart, while thou inspir'st the song.
'Twas at the hour, when midnight ghosts assume
Some frightsul shape, and sweep along the gloom;
When the pale spectre bursts upon the view;
When fancy paints the fading taper blue;
When smiling virtue rests, nor dreads a foe;
And slumber shuts the weeping eyes of woe:
'Twas then, amid the silence of the night,
A gracesul seraph stood before my sight,
And blaz'd meridian day—the rocking ground
Flam'd as he mov'd, and totter'd as he frown'd.
As some vast meteor, whose expanded glare
Shoots a long stream that brightens all the air,
So flam'd his burning eyes :—earth heard and shook.,
When from his lips these dreadsul accents broke:
Now is that hour, when at th' Almighty's call,
Surrounding flames shall melt the yielding ball;
When worlds must blaze amid the general sire,
And suns and stars with all their hosts expire.
The long-delay'd, th' important day is come,
(All nature quake with terror at the doom.)

** F«r

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