Till future life, future no more, Stranger, go! Heav'n be thy guide! A PRAYER, UNDER THE PRESSURE OF VIOLENT ANGUISH O THOU great Being! what thou art Yet sure I am, that known to Thee Thy creature here before Thee stands, Yet sure those ills that wring my soul Sure Thou, Almighty, canst not act But if I must afflicted be, To suit some wise design; Then man my soul with firm resolves A PRAYER, IN THE PROSPECT OF DEATH. I. O THOU, unknown, Almighty Cause In whose dread presence, ere an hour, II. If I have wander'd in those paths As something, loudly in my breast, III. Thou know'st that Thou hast formed me And list'ning to their witching voice IV. Where human weakness has come short, Do Thou, All-good! for such Thou art, V Where with intention I have err'd, But, Thou art good; and goodness still STANZAS ON THE SAME OCCASION I. WHY am I loath to leave this carthly scene? Or death's unlovely, dreary, dark abode ? And justly smart beneath his sin-avenging rod. II. Fain would I say, "Forgive my foul offence!" Again exalt the brute and sink the man ; III. O Thou, great Governor of all below Thy nod can make the tempest cease to blow, To rule their torrent in th' allowed line; 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, II. The hoary sire-the mortal stroke, To bless his little filial flock, And show what good men are. III. She, who her lovely offspring eyes IV. Their hope, their stay, their darling youth; Bless him, thou God of love and truth, 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, May they rejoice, no wand'rer lost, A GRACE BEFORE DINNER. For every creature's want! We bless thee, God of Nature wide, And if it please thee, heavenly Guide, Amen. THE FIRST PSALM. THE man in life, wherever plac'd, Who walks not in the wicked's way, Nor from the seat of scornful pride That man shall flourish like the trees But he whose blossom buds in guilt, For why? That God, the good adore, 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 Before the mountains heav'd their heads That Pow'r which rais'd and still upholds From countless, unbeginning time, Those mighty periods of years Which seem to us so vast, Thou giv'st the word-Thy creature, man, Again thou sayest, "Ye sons of men, Thou layest them, with all their cares, As with a flood Thou tak'st them off They flourish like the morning flow'r, EPISTLE TO A YOUNG FRIEND. I. I LANG hae thought, my youthfu' friend, Than just a kind memento; But how the subject-theme may gang, Perhaps it may turn out a sang, II. Ye'll try the world soon, my lad, |