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,

N 4

STANZAS

ON

THE SAME OCCASION.

WHY am I loth to leave this earthly 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.

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 heav'nly mercy pray,

Who act so counter heav'nly 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 controuling pow'r assist even 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!

THE

FIRST PSALM.

THE man, in life where-ever 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.