My God, who makes the sun to know
His proper hour to rise,
And to give light to all below,
Doth send him round the skies.
When from the chambers of the east
His morning race begins,
He never tires, nor stops to rest;
But round the world he shines.
So, like the sun would I fulfil,
The bus'ness of the day;
Begin my work betimes, and still
March on my heav'nly way.
Give me, O Lord, thy early grace,
Nor let my soul complain,
That the young morning of my days
Has all been spent in vain.
And now another day is gone
I'll sing my Maker's praise;
My comforts ev'ry hour make known
His providence and grace.
But how my childhood runs to waste!
My sins, how great their sum!
Lord, give me pardon for the past,
And strength for days to come.
I'll lay my body down to sleep;
Let angels guard my head,
And through the hours of darkness keep
Their watch around my bed.
With cheerful heart I close my eyes,
Since thou wilt not remove;
And in the morning let me rise
Rejoicing in thy love.
For the Lord's-Day Morning.
This is the day when Christ arose
So early from the dead:
Why should I keep my eye-lids clos'd,
Or waste my hours in bed?
This is the day when Jesus broke
The pow'r of death and hell:
And shall I still wear Satan's yoke,
And love my sins so well?
To-day with pleasure Christians meet,
To pray and hear the word;
And I would go with cheerful feet
To learn thy will, O Lord.
I'll leave my sport, to read and pray,
And so prepare for heav'n:
O may I love this blessed day
The best of all the sev'n!
For the Lord's-Day Evening.
Lord, how delightful 'tis to see
A whole assembly worship thee!
At once they sing, at once they pray;
They hear of heav'n, and learn the way.
I have been there, and still would go:
'Tis like a little heav'n below:
Not all my pleasure, and my play,
Shall tempt me to forget this day.
O write upon my mem'ry, Lord,
The texts and doctrines of thy word;
That I may break thy laws no more,
But love thee better than before.
With thoughts of Christ and things divine
Fill up this foolish heart of mine;
That hoping pardon through his blood,
I may lie down, and wake with God.
The Ten Commandments, in Verse.
Exodus, chap. xx.
1. Thou shalt have no more gods but me. 2 Before no idols bow thy knee. 3. Take not the name of God in vain. 4. Nor dare the Sabbath-day profane. 5. Give both thy parents honour due. 6. Take heed that thou no murder do. 7. Abstain from words and deeds unclean. 8. Nor steal; though thou art poor and mean. 9. Nor make a wilful lie, nor love it. 10. What is thy neighbour's dare not covet.
The Sum of the Commandments.
Matt. xxii. 37, 39.
With all thy soul love God above,
And as thyself thy Neighbour love.
Our Saviour's Golden Rule.
Matt. vii. 12.
Be you to others kind and true,
As you'd have others be to you;
And neither do nor say to men,
Whate'er you would not take again.
Copied from an original Manuscript, in the Handwriting of the late Mrs. Rowe.
O Thou, to whom the fairest angel veils,
With folded wings, the beauties of his face,
'Tis Thee, 'tis Thee alone my wishes seek.
For Thee, I'd break the fondest ties below,
Forget the names of amity and love,
And all the gentle bands of human life.
O! turn the veil aside that hides Thy face,
And holds the glorious vision from my view;
Pity the agonies of strong desire,
And stand in open majesty confess'd.
If, when a few short minutes are expir'd,
And this frail substance to its dust returns,
If thou wilt then unfold thy lovely face,
And in the heights of excellence appear,
Why wiit Thou not indulge a moment's bliss,
Disclose one beam of Thy unclouded light,
To cheer the joyless gloom of mortal life?
Thou fairest of ten thousand! whose bright smiles Enlighten heaven, and open paradise
In all its blissful and transporting scenes,
Vouchsafe at least a momentary glance
Of Thy fair face, if I must ask no more.
Forgive the fond impatience of my soul,
Which dwells on Thee, and has no other joy,
No entertainment in this lonesome world,
"Tis all a dismal solitude to me.
If some fond lover, by the charming force
Of mortal beauty held, can call the groves,
The fields, the floods, and all the sparkling stars
To witness his unshaken truth and love,
While the frail object of his boasted faith
Fades like a painted flow'r and is no more;
And shall my heart, with heav'nly love inflam'd,
Grow doubtful while I swear eternal truth
To the prime excellence, beauty divine?
Shall I protest with caution? shall my tongue
Speak with reserve, and yield but half assent?
No: let me find the most pathetic form,
Beyond the obligations men have known,
Beyond all human ties:-solemn as when
Some mighty angel lifts his hand on high,
And by the living God attests his oath!
Thus let me bind my soul-and O! be witness
Ye shining ministers, for you surround
And sanctify the place where holy vows
Ascend to heaven. Be witness when we meet
Upon th' immortal shores, as soon we must,
Be witness: for the solemn hour draws near,
That solemn hour, when with triumphant joy
Or exquisite confusion I shall hear
Your approbation, or your just reproaches;
Your just reproaches, if you find me false,
If this fond heart, ensnar'd by earthly charms,
Shall break its faith, profane the sanctity
Of plighted vows, and consecrated flames.
O Thou! to whose all-seeing eye my soul
Lies all unveil'd, to Thee I dare appeal.
If Thou art not my chief my only joy,
Let sacred peace for ever fly my breast,
And rest become an endless stranger there.
Let no harmonious sound delight my ears,
If Thy lov'd name is not the sweetest sound,
The most transporting music they convey.
Let beauty ne'er again delight my eyes,
Shut out the sun, to every pleasant thing
Its rays disclose, if e'er 1 find a charm
In nature's lovely face, abstract from Thee;
Let all my hopes, my gayest expectations
Be blasted, when they are not plac'd in Thee.
Oh! I might speak a bolder language still,
And bid Thee cut off all my future hopes
Of heav'nly bliss, if Thy transporting smiles
Are not the emphasis of all that bliss.
Where am I? surely paradise is round me!
My soul, my sense is full of thy perfection,
Whatever nature boasts in all her pride,
The blooming fragrancy of thousand springs
Are open to my view, and thou art all
The charming, the delicious land of love.
I know not what to speak, for human words
Lose all their pow'r, their emphasis, their force,
And grow insipid, when I talk of Thee,
The excellent Supreme, the God of gods!
Whate'er the language of those gods, those pow'rs
In heav'nly places crown'd, however strong,
Or musical, or clear their language is,
Yet all falls short of Thee, though set to strains
That hell would smile to hear, and wild despair,
Discord, and mad confusion stand compos'd
In fix'd attention to the charming song!
When wilt Thou blow away those envious clouds,
And shew me all the dazzling scenes beyond?
Those heav'ns of beauty and essential glory,
Those sights the eyes of mortals never saw,
Nor ear has heard, nor boldest thought conceiv'd!
What will those wonders prove? How shall my pow'rs
Be to their full capacity employ'd
In ecstasy and love? How shall I rove
For ever through those regions of delight,
Those paths ineffable, where pleasure leads
Her smiling train, and wings the blissful hours?
Come ye triumphant moments, come away,
Thou glorious period where I fix my eyes;
For which I hourly chide the ling'ring course
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