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Till future life, future no more,
To light and joy the good restore,
To light and joy unknown before!

Stranger, go! Heav'n be thy guide!
Quod the Beadsman of Nith-side.

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!

A PRAYER,

IN THE PROSPECT OF DEATH.

I.

O THOU, unknown, Almighty Cause
Of all my hope and fear!

In whose dread presence, ere an hour,
Perhaps I must appear!

II.

If I have wander'd in those paths
Of life I ought to shun;

As something, loudly in my breast,
Remonstrates I have done;

III.

Thou know'st that Thou hast formed me
With passions wild and strong;

And list'ning to their witching voice
Has often led me wrong.

IV.

Where human weakness has come short,
Or frailty stept aside,

Do Thou, All-good! for such Thou art,
In shades of darkness hide.

V

Where with intention I have err'd,
No other plea I have,

But, Thou art good; and goodness still
Delighteth to forgive.

STANZAS

ON THE SAME OCCASION

I.

WHY am I loath to leave this carthly scene?
Have I so found it full of pleasing charms?
Some drops of joy with draughts of ill between;
Some gleams of sunshine mid. renewing storms:
Is it departing pangs my soul alarms?

Or death's unlovely, dreary, dark abode ?
For guilt, for guilt, my terrors are in arms;
I tremble to approach an angry God,

And justly smart beneath his sin-avenging rod.

II.

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 an?

III.

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 ev'n me,
Those headlong, furious passions to confine;
For all unfit I feel my powers to be,

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

VERSES,

LEFT BY THE AUTHOR, AT A REVEREND FRIEND'S HOUSE, IN THE ROOM WHERE HE SLEPT.

I.

O 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 knowest 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

A GRACE BEFORE DINNER.
O THOU, Who kindly dost provide

For every creature's want!

We bless thee, God of Nature wide,
For all thy goodness lent:

And if it please thee, heavenly Guide,
May never worse be sent;
But whether granted or denied,
Lord bless us with content!

Amen.

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 an 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.

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 sayest, "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.

EPISTLE TO A YOUNG FRIEND.

I.

I LANG hae thought, my youthfu' friend,
A something to have sent you,
Tho' it should serve no other end

Than just a kind memento;

But how the subject-theme may gang,
Let time and chance determine;

Perhaps it may turn out a sang,
Perhaps turn out a sermon.

II.

Ye'll try the world soon, my lad,
And Andrew dear, believe me,
Ye'll find mankind an unco squad,
And muckle they may grieve ye!
For care and trouble set your thought,
Ey'n when your end's attained;

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