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S fome new Star attracts th' admiring Sight, His Splendors pouring through the Fields of Light,

Whole Nights, delighted with th' unusual Rays,
On the fair heav'nly Vifitant we gaze:

So thy fam'd Volumes fweet Surprise impart :
Mark'd by all Eyes, and felt in ev'ry Heart.
Nature inform'd by Thee, new Paths has trod,
And rifes, here, a Preacher for her God;
By Fancy's Aids myfterious Heights fhe tries,
And lures us by our Senfes. to the Skies.
To deck thy Stile collected Graces throng,
Bold as the Pencil's Tints, yet foft as Song.
In Themes, how rich thy Vein! how pure thy
Choice!

Tranfcripts of Truths, own'd clear from Scripture's Voice:

Thy Judgment these, and Piety atteft
Tranfcripts-read only fairer in thy Breaft.
There, what thy Works would fhew, we best may
fee,

And all they teach in Doctrine, lives in Thee.
Oh!-might they live !—Our Prayers their
Strife engage;

But thy fix'd Languors yield us fad Prefage.
In vain fkill'd Med'cine tries her healing Art:
Disease, long Foe, entrenches at thy Heart.
Yet on new Labours ftill thy Mind is prone,
For a World's Good too thoughtlefs of thy own.
Active, like Day's kindOrb, Life's Courfe you run,
Its Sphere ftill glorious, tho' a fetting Sun.
Redemption opes Thee wide her healing Plan,
Health's only Balm; her fov'reign'ft Gift to Man.

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Themes fweet like these thy Ardors, fresh, excite :
Warm at the Soul, they nerve thy Hand to

write ;

e;

Make thy try'd Virtues in their Charms appear,
Patience, rais'd Hope, firm Faith, and Love fincere
Like a big Conftellation, bright they glow,
And beam out lovelier by thy Night of Woe.
Known were thy Merits to the Public long,
Ere own'd thus feebly in my humble Song.
Damp'd are my Fires: my Heart dark Čares
deprefs;

A Heart, too feeling from its own Diftrefs.

Proud on thy Friendship, yet to build my Fame,

I gain'd my Page* a Sanction from thy Name.

Weak thefe Returns (by Gratitude tho' led)
Where mine fhall in thy fav'rite Leaves be read.
Yet, o'er my conscious Meannefs Hope prevails;
Love gives me Merit, where my Genius fails.
On its ftrong Base my small Defert I raise,
Averse to Flatt'ry, as unskill'd to praise.

MOSES BROWNE....

SUNDAY THOUGHTS.

Celestial Visions blefs thy ftudious Hours,
Thy lonely Walks, and thy fequcfter'd Bow'rs.
What fav'ring Pow'r, difpenfing fecret Aids,
Thy cavern'd Cell, thy curtain'd Couch, per-
vades?

Still hov'ring near, observant of thy Themes,
In Whispers prompts thee,or infpires thy Dreams?
JESUS! Effulgence of paternal Light!
Ineffably divine! fupremely bright!
Whofe Energy according Worlds atteft,
Kindled thefe Ardors in thy glowing Breast.
We catch thy Flame, as we thy Page peruse;
And Faith in every Object JESUS views.
We in the bloomy breathing Garden trace
Somewhat like Émanations of his Grace:
Yet must all Sweetness and all Beauty yield,
Idume's Grove, and Sharon's Flow'ry Field,
Compar'd with JESUS: Meanly, meanly fhows
The brighteft Lily, faint the lovelieft Rose.

Divine Instructor! lead thro' midnight Glooms,
To moralizing Stars, and preaching Tombs :
Thro' the ftill Void a Saviour's Voice fhall break,
A Ray from Jacob's Star the Darkness ftreak:
To Him the fairest Scenes their Luftre owe;
His Cov'nant brightens the celestial Bow;
His vaft Benevolence profufely spreads
The yellow Harvefls, and the verdant Meads.
Thy Pupil, HERVEY, a Redeemer finds
In boundless Oceans, and in viewlefs Winds:
He reins at Will the furious Blaft, and guides
The rending Tempefts, and the roaring Tides.
O give, my Soul, thy Welfare to his Truft:
Whorais'd the World,can raife thy fleeping Duft!
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He

He will, he will, when Nature's Courfe is run,
Midft falling Stars, and an extinguifh'd Sun:
He will with Myriads of his Saints appear,
O may I join them, tho' the meaneft there!

Tho' nearer to the Throne my HERVEY fings;
Tho'I at humbler Distance ftrike the Strings;
Yet both fhall mingle in the fame Employ,
Both drink the Fulness of eternal Joy.

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JOHN DUICK.

WHAT Numbers of our Race furvey

The Monarch of the golden Day,

Night's ample Canopy unfurl'd,

In gloomy Grandeur round the World,
The Earth in Spring's Embroid'ry dreft,
And Ocean's ever-working Breast!
And ftill no grateful Honours rife
To Him who spread the fpacious Skies,
Who hung this Air-suspended Ball,
And lives, and reigns, and fhines, in All!
To chase our fenfual Fogs away,

And bright to pour th' eternal Ray
Of Deity, infcrib'd around

Wide Nature to her utmoft Bound,
IS HERVEY'S Tafk; and well his Skill
Celestial can the Tafk fulfil:
Afcending from thefe Scenes below,
Ardent the Maker's Praise to fhow,
His facred Contemplations foar,
And teach our Wonder to adore.

Now

Now he furveys the Realms beneath,
The Realms of Horror, and of Death;
Now entertains his vernal Hours

In flow'ry Walks, and blooming Bow'rs;
Now hails the black-brow'd Night, that brings.
Ethereal Dews upon her Wings;

Now marks the Planets, as they roll

On burning Axles round the Pole:

While Tombs, and Flow'rs, and Shades, and Stars,
Unveil their facred Characters

Of Juftice, Wisdom, Pow'r, and Love;
And lifts the Soul to Realms above,
Where dwells the God, in Glory crown'd,
Who fends his boundless Influence round.
So Jacob, in his blissful Dreams,
Array'd in Heav'n's refulgent Beams!
Saw from the Ground a Scale arife,
Whose fummit mingled with the Skies:
Angels were pleas'd to pafs the Road,
The Stage to Earth, and Path to God.
HERVEY, proceed: For Nature yields
Fresh Treasure in her ample Fields;
And in feraphic Ecftafy

Still bears us to the Throne on high.
Ocean's wild Wonders next explore,
His changing Scenes, and fecret Store;
Or let dire EARTHQUAKE claim thy Toil,
EARTHQUAKE, that shakes a guilty lfle.

So, if fmall Things may fhadow forth,
Dear Man, thy Labours, and thy Worth,
The Bee upon the flow'ry Lawn,
Imbibes the lucid Drops of Dawn,
Works them in his myfterious Mould,
And turns the common Dew to Gold.

London, May 26, 1750,

THOMAS GIBBONS.
DE-

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