Thy deeds, and hidden motives, on a page,
Not perishable, which the flame that burns
The scorch'd and shrinking Heavens, shall so
unfold,
That every eye may read. O God, thou know'st
All my temptations, my adversities,
My weaknesses and errors; suit thy gifts
Unto my needs, and not to my deserts
Imperfect. But so guide me on this earth,
That when I leave it, I may see thy face
In peace, and sin no more. So shall my prayer
Rise ceaseless to thee; and my soul shall rest
Upon thine arm of love, through every scene
Of this day's good or ill, or life or death.
And let my song of praise, O mighty God,
Rise with acceptance from this house of clay,
This earthly tenement, soon rent and broke:
And let me on the cold, dark flood of death
Be joyful in thee: let me wake the harp
Of seraph rapture, hymning to the praise
Of Him who was, and is, and is to come,
When time shall be no more, and death shall die ;
And ages after ages rolling on,
Fill not the circle of Eternity.
THOU art in every place, Being Supreme !
Best seen and worship'd, in thy court above,
Yet here on earth thy countenance doth beam
With rays of terror, majesty, and love,
And joys unspeakable thy smile do move;
And none may veil him from thy piercing sight,
Escape thine hand, or from thy presence rove;
Or hide in secret cells close wrapt in night,
For unto thee the darkness shineth as the light.
Thou dwellest where the curtain'd whirlwinds hide; Where the arm'd thunder walks his lofty round; Thou on the tempest of the night dost ride, Flames mark thy path, and clouds thy car surround,
And mighty winds are rous'd, and surging billlows sound,
While from thine eye the winged lightnings part;
Thou in the highest arch of Heaven art found;
In the dark regions of the earth thou art,
And in the humble mansion of the contrite heart.
With fear I bow me at thine awful seat;
How to thy holy presence dare I press !
Bat hark; a voice celestial seems to meet
My waiting ear, and my intrusion bless,
"Spread before me your wants and your distress,
Upon mine arm of strength your burdens cast,
An intercessor fills the holy place."
I come; the hour of terror now is past,
I trust thou wilt not leave me comfortless at last.
Oh! if the storms of life with bitter rage,
Upon my sad, unshelter'd head should blow,
If trembling down the cold, dark steep of age,
My weak and unsupported step should go,
My heart all sunk with weariness and woe,
Or wheresoe'er my unknown path shall tend,
Still let my bosom at thy presence glow,
Still let my ceaseless prayers to thee ascend,
And ever to my wants thy kind compassion lend.
WHILE slow and soft the evening ray expires, And lights devotion's meek, unwavering fires, While dark rob'd night, on her composing breast,
Lulls all the vexing cares of earth to rest,
My soul once more from vain delusions free,
Lifts up her hopes and her desires to thee;
Low at thy much lov'd name her spirits bend,
Eternal Father, and eternal Friend!
Still as thine hand my op'ning journey gilds,
Thine arm supports me, and thy favour shields ;
My board supplies, my downy couch prepares,
Gives all my gifts, and comforts all my cares.
How can my heart such deeds of love forget?
How turn away from its increasing debt?
How hang on earthly hopes with fruitless pain,
And wounded oft, so oft return again?
Yet while these scenes of joy around me rise,
My conscious bosom heaves repentant sighs,
Some turbid springs the chrystal fount pollute,
Some noxious roots, display their bitter fruit,
And ere the glow of grateful joy can rise,
At memory's stern demand it fades and dies;
"Have not thine eyes been blind, thy feelings cold?
'Hast thou not wander'd from thy shepherd's fold?”
Oh, raise again thy suppliant! let her see,
Her hope renew'd, her pardon seal'd by thee,
Her foot made firm to press this troubled soil,
Her arm made strong, for each appointed toil,
And when the heart shall ask, the knee shall bend,
Still to those prayers thy favouring ear extend.
Oh, break these ties of vanity, that bind
In sway so strict the free, immortal mind,
Unseal my eyes, dispel the powers that keep
The cold, dull heart in this perpetual sleep;
Let thy blest name awake my warmest praise,
Thy presence awe me, and thy comforts raise,
Thy Spirit cleanse, thy grace destroy my sing
Thy mercy soothe me when my days decline,
Thine arm support me on that chilling flood
Which shuts my mourning soul from Heaven and
God.
Oh, place before my eyes in sad array
The solemn scenes of that departing day.
The wither'd form, the weak and pow'rless hand,
The chill, cold drops that on the temples stand,
The faint, lost voice, the long and bursting sigh,
The last light fading from the started eye,
The slow, deep groan by racking torture wrung,
The last, sad dirge by trembling mourner's sung,
The ghastly cheek, the heaving bosom pain'd,
The heart-strings rent, the nerve of anguish
strain'd,
The death-dews resting on the stiffen'd form,
The ready pit, the darkness, and the worm!
Ev'n at this distant view my spirits fade,
And life's quick pulse moves fluttering and afraid;
But hark! a secret sound is in my ear,
"Fear not (it seems to say,) for I am near;
For tho' this form of clay may sink in pain,
From earth first drawn, and bound to earth again,
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