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that makes us só realy to run away, (like an impatient beggar wiihout alms,) before we receive the Blessings, which, perhaps, we have solici:ed with much earnellness and importunity.
I am, &c.
An HYMN of PRAISE,
MORNING's WAL K.
T Whose goodness brought these scenes to light, :Touch'd by thy hand, my lips shall move,
And praise thee for the pleasing sight.
lo rich variety of dress;
And God the blowing flowers confess.
Their yielding sweets odoriferous send,
To Heaven their incense now ascend.
Their little wants engage thy care,
In warbling strains thy praise declare.
Th' ambient air, exulting high,
In songs which pierce the azure sky.
In humbler sphere their praise impart,
And testify a grateful heart.
In play some mood devote their days,
And innocently bleat thy praise.
And all its various pow'rs combine,
“ The Hand that made us is divine."
Shall silence close my lips and heart ?
* Shall creatures of a meaner frame"
Devote their every power to thee,
For thy exalted Love to me?
Live to his Glory, speak his Praise,
Or sinful, stood in need of Grace: Their songs upbraid unthankful man,
Whose mercies are profusely given, . .. For whom the great redeeming plan
Was form’d, to raise him up to Heav'n?
To beautify this living clod,
To point the finner up to GOD.
Accept my feeble, languid songs ;
That Goodness which my life prolongs
This brittle and dependent clay,
Or thou fees good, from day to day. Stretch out, my soul, thy feeble powers,
And catch sweet Nature's grateful strain, Unite with birds, and beasts, and flow'rs, .
And own and bless the Hand divine. Yea, foar beyond their strains, my soul,
And let thy echoing praise increase; In Faith and Gratitude extol
The wonders of redeeming Grace,
Who purchas'd what I now enjoy.
The source of all my future joy.
While gratitude inspires my song:
On seeing a young Man far gone in a Decline,
With all that's gay, adieu! adieu !
May charm the man of health possest;
To cheer the soul with sickness press’d.
To me can earth give comfort more,
And death stands knocking at my door?
Where the long grass luxuriant grows;
And there my weary eyes shall close.
And cheer my pensive drooping mind;
And all my bleeding wounds upbind.
Shew death of his dread sting bereav'd;
And tho' once lost, yet now am fav’d.
OF BEHAVIOUR in PUBLIC WORSHIP.
Nor wander in the world's broad ray;