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Fain would I say, 'Forgive my foul offence !'
Fain promise never more to disobey;
But, should my Author health again dispense,
Again I might desert fair virtue's way;
Again in folly's path might go astray :

Again exalt the brute and sink the man;
Then how should I for heavenly mercy pray,

Who act so counter heavenly mercy's plan? Who sin so oft have mourn'd, yet to temptation ran?

O Thou, great Governor of all below!

If I may dare a lifted eye to Thee,

Thy nod can make the tempest cease to blow,
Or still the tumult of the raging sea:
With that controlling pow'r assist evʼn me,
Those headlong furious passions to confine,
For all unfit I feel my powers to be,

To rule their torrent in the' allowed line;
O, aid me with thy help, Omnipotence Divine!

LYING AT A REVEREND FRIEND'S HOUSE ONE NIGHT, THE AUTHOR LEFT

THE FOLLOWING VERSES

IN THE ROOM WHERE HE SLEPT.

I.

THOU dread Pow'r, who reign'st above!
I know thou wilt me hear:

When for this scene of peace and love,
I make my pray'r sincere.

II.

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.

III.

She, who her lovely offspring eyes
With tender hopes and fears,
O, bless her with a mother's joys,
But spare a mother's tears!

IV.

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!

V.

The beauteous seraph sister-band,

With earnest tears I pray,

Thou know'st the snares on ev'ry hand,

Guide thou their steps alway!

VI.

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!

THE FIRST PSALM.

THE man, in life wherever plac'd,
Hath happiness in store,

Who walks not in the wicked's way,
Nor learns their guilty lore!

Nor from the seat of scornful pride Casts forth his eyes abroad,

But with humility and awe

Still walks before his God.

That man shall flourish like the trees Which by the streamlets grow; The fruitful top is spread on high, And firm the root below.

But he whose blossom buds in guilt
Shall to the ground be cast,
And like the rootless stubble, tost
Before the sweeping blast.

For why that God the good adore Hath giv'n them peace and rest, But hath decreed that wicked men Shall ne'er be truly blest.

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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!

THE

FIRST SIX VERSES OF THE NINETIETH PSALM.

O THOU, the first, the greatest friend

Of all the human race!

Whose strong right hand has ever been
Their stay and dwelling place!

Before the mountains heav'd their heads

Beneath thy forming hand,

Before this pond'rous globe itself,

Arose at thy command;

That pow'r which rais'd and still upholds

This universal frame,

From countless, unbeginning time

Was ever still the same.

Those mighty periods of years

Which seem to us so vast, Appear no more before thy sight Than yesterday that's past.

Thou giv'st the word: thy creature, man,
Is to existence brought:
Again thou say'st, 'Ye sons of men,
'Return ye into nought!'

Thou layest them, with all their cares,

In everlasting sleep;

As with a flood thou tak'st them off
With overwhelming sweep.

They flourish like the morning flow'r,
In beauty's pride array'd;

But long ere night cut down it lies
All wither'd and decay'd.

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