Oteach me what is good. Teach me THYSELF! Save me from folly, vanity, and vice, From every low purfuit! and feed my foul With knowledge, confcious peace, and virtue Sacred, substantial, never-fading blifs! [pure;
§ 2. Another Address to the Deity. YOUNG. THOU great arbiter of life and death! Nature's immortal, immaterial fun! Whofe all-prolific beam late call'd me forth From darknefs, teeming darkness, where I lay The worm's inferior, and in rank beneath The duft I tread on, high to bear my brow; To drink the fpirit of the golden day; And triumph in existence; and couldft know No motive, but my blifs; and haft ordain'd A rife in bleffing! with the Patriarch's joy, Thy call I follow to the land unknown. I truft in Thee, and know in whom I truft; Or life, or death, is equal; neither weighs! All weight in this- let me live to Thee!
3. Adam and Eve, in a Morning Hymn, call upon all the Parts of the Creation to join with them in extolling their common Maker. MILTON. THESE are thy glorious works, Parent of good,
Almighty, thine this univerfal frame, Thus wondrous fair; thy felf how wondrous then! Unfpeakable, who fitt'ft above these Heavens To us invifible, or dimly feen
In thefe thy loweft works; yet thefe declare Thy goodness beyond thought, and pow'r divine. Speak ye who beft can tell, ye fons of light, Angels; for ye behold him, and with fongs
And choral fymphonies, day without night, Circle his throne rejoicing; ye in Heaven, On Earth, join all ye creatures to extol Faireft of ftars, laft in the train of night, Him firft, him laft, him midft, and without end. If better thou belong not to the dawn, Sure pledge of day, that crown'ft the finiling morn While day arifes, that fweet hour of prime. With thy bright circlet, praife him in thy fphere, Thou Sun, of this great world both eye and foul, Acknowledge him thy greater, found his praife In thy eternal courfe, both when thou climb'ft, And when high noon haft gain'd, and when thou fall'ft.
Moon, that now meet'ft the orient fun, now fly'st With the fix'd ftars, fix'd in their orb that flies, And ye five other wand'ring fires that move In myftic dance, not without fong, refound His praife, who out of darknefs call'd up light, Air, and ye elements, the eldest birth Of Nature's womb, that in quaternion run Perpetual circle, multiform; and mix And nourish all things; let your ceafelefs change Vary to our great Maker ftill new praise. Ye Mifts and Exhalations that now rife From hill or ftreaming lake, dufky or grey, In honour to the world's great Author rife! Till the fun paint your fleecy fkirts with gold, Whether to deck with clouds th' uncolour'd sky, Or wet the thirfty earth with falling fhowers, Rifing or falling ftill advance his praife. His praife ye Winds,that from four quarters blow, Breathe foft or loud; and wave your tops, ye Pines, With every plant in fign of worship wave. Ποιν Fountains, and ye that warble as ye Melodious murmurs, warbling tune his praife, Join voices, all ye living Souls; ye Birds, That finging up to Heaven's gate afcend, Bear on your wings and in your notes his praife.
Ye that in waters glide, and ye that walk The earth, and stately tread, or lowly creep; Witness if I be filent, morn or even, To hill or valley, fountain, or fresh shade Made vocal by my fong, and taught his praife. Hail univerfal Lord! be bounteous ftill To give us only good, and if the night Have gather'd aught of evil, or conceal'd, Disperse it, as now light difpels the dark.
§ 4. Hymn on Gratitude. ADDISON. WHEN all thy mercies, O my God,
My rifing foul furveys; Tranfported with the view, I'm loft.... In wonder, love, and praife. O how fhall words with equal warmth The gratitude declare That glows within my ravish'd heart ? [ But thou canft read it there. Thy providence my life fuftain'd, And all my wants redraft) When in the filent womb I lay,
And hung upon the breast. To all my weak complaints and cries Thy mercy lent an earn Ere yet my feeble thoughts had learnt To form themfelves in pray'r.
Unnumber'd comforts to my foul Thy tender care beftow'd,
Before my infant heart conceiv'd
From whom thofe comforts flow'd.
When in the flipp'ry paths of youth With heedlefs steps I ran,
Thine arm unfeen convey'd me fafe,
And led me up to man.
Through hidden dangers, toils, and deaths, It gently clear'd my way, And through the pleafing fnares of vice, More to be fear'd than they. When worn with sickness, oft haft thou With health renew'd my face, And when in fins and forrows funk,
Reviv'd my foul with grace. Thy bounteous hand with worldly blifs Has made my cup run o'er,
And in a kind and faithful friend
Has doubled all my store. Ten thousand thousand precious gifts My daily thanks employ, Nor is the leaft a cheerful heart,
That tastes those gifts with joy. Through every period of my life
Thy goodness I'll purfue; And after death in diftant worlds
The glorious theme renew. When nature fails, and day and night
Divide thy works no more, My ever grateful heart, O Lord, Thy mercy fhall adore.
Through all eternity to Thee A joyful fong I'll raise, eternity's too fhort
To utter all thy praise.
§ 5. Hymn on Providence. ADDISON, THE Lord my pasture shall prepare,
And feed me with a fhepherd's care: His prefence fhall my wants supply, And guard me with a watchful eye; My noon-day walks he fhall attend, And all my midnight hours defend. When in the fultry glebe I faint, Or on the thirsty mountains pant; To fertile vales, and dewy meads, My weary wand'ring fteps he leads; Where peaceful rivers,, foft and flow, Amid the verdant landskip flow. Tho' in the paths of Death I tread, With gloomy horrors overspread, My stedfast heart shall fear no ill, For thou, O Lord, art with me ftill; Thy friendly crook fhall give me aid, And guide me through the dreadful shade. Tho' in a bare and rugged way, Through devious lonely wilds 1 ftray, Thy bounty fhall my pains beguile : The barren wildernefs fhall fmile, With fudden greens and herbage crown'd; And ftreams fhall murmur all around.
§ 6. Another Hymn, from the beginning of the 19th Pfalm. ADDISON.
THE fpacious firmament on high,
With all the blue ethereal sky, And fpangled Heavens, a fhining frame, Their great original proclaim : Th'unwearied fun, from day to day, Does his Creator's pow'r difplay, And publishes to every land The work of an Almighty hand. Soon as the evening fhades prevail, The moon takes up the wondrous tale, And nightly to the lift'ning earth Repeats the ftory of her birth: Whilft all the ftars that round her burn, And all the planets in their turn, Confirm the tidings as they roll, And spread the truth from pole to pole. What though in folemn filence all Move round the dark terrestrial ball ! What tho' nor real voice nor found Amid their radiant orbs be found! In reafon's ear they all rejoice, And utter forth a glorious voice, Forever finging as they thine, "The hand that made us is Divine."
§ 7. Another Hymn. Mrs. RowE. THE glorious armies of the sky To thee, Aunighty King,
Triumphant anthems confectate, And hallelujahs fing.
But their most exalted flights
Fall vaftly fhort of thee: How diftant then muft human praife From thy perfections be! Yet how, my God, fhall I refrain, When to my ravish'd sense Lach creature every where around, Difplays thy excellence!
The active lights that shine above, In their eternal dance, Reveal their skilful Maker's praise With filent elegance.
The blushes of the morn confefs
That thou art ftill more fair, When in the Eaft its beams revive,
Togild the fields of air.
The fragrant, the refreshing breeze: Of ev'ry flow'ry bloom In balmy whifpers own, from Thee Their pleafing odours come. The finging birds, the warbling winds, And water's murm'ring fall, To praise the first Almighty Caufe With diff'rent voices call. Thy num'rous works exalt thee thus, And fhall I filent be?
No; rather let me ceafe to breathe, Than ceafe from praifing thee
§ 3. Another Hymn. Mrs. Rowe. THOU didft, O mighty God! exift Ere time began its race; Before the ample elements
Fill'd up the void of space : Before the pond'rous earthly globe In fluid air was ftay'd; Before the ocean's mighty springs Their liquid ftores difplay'd:
Ere through the gloom of ancient night The treaks of light appear'd; Before the high celestial arch,
Or ftarry poles werer ear'd: Before the loud melodious spheres,
Their tuneful round begun; Before the fhining roads of heav'n Were meafur'd by the fun:, Ere through the empyrean courts One hallelujah rung; Or to their harps the fons of light Echatic anthems fung: Ere men ador'd, or angels knew, Or prais'd thy wondrous name; Thy blits, O facred Spring of life! Thy glory, was the fame. And when the pillars of the world With fudden ruin break,
§ 9. Another Hymn, from Pfalm 148th. OGILVIE BEGIN, my foul, th' exalted lay! Let each enraptur'd thought obey, And praife th' Almighty's name. heaven and earth, and feas and skies, In one melodious concert rife,
To fwell th' infpiring theme. Ye fields of light, celeftial plains, Where gay tranfporting beauty reigns, Ye fcenes divinely fair! Your Maker's wondrous power proclaim; Tell how he form'd your fhining frame, And breath'd the fluid air.
Ye angels, catch the thrilling found! While all th' adoring thrones around His boundless mercy fing:
Let ev'ry lift'ning faint above Wake all the tuneful foul of love,
And touch the sweetest ftring. Join, ye loud fpheres, the vocal choir; Thou dazzling orb of liquid fire,
The mighty chorus aid: Soon as grey ev'ning gilds the plain, Thou, moon, protract the melting strain, And praife him in the fhade. Thou heav'n of heav'ns, his vaft abode, Ye clouds, proclaim your forming God,
Who call'd yon worlds from night: "Ye fhades, difpe! !"-th' Eternal faid; At once th' involving darknefs fled, And nature fprung to light. Whate'er a blooming world contains, That wings the air, that faims the plains, United praise bestow:
Ye dragons found his awful name To heav'n aloud, and roar acclaim Ye fwelling deeps below. Let every element rejoice: Ye thunders, burft with awful voice To him who bids you roll, His praife in fofter notes declare, Each whispering breeze of yielding air, And breathe it to the foul.
To him, ye graceful cedars, bow; Ye tow'ring mountains, bending low, Your great Creator own; Tell, when affrighted nature fhook, How Sinai kindled at his look,
And trembled at his frown,
Ye flocks that haunt the humble vale, Ye infects flutt'ring on the gale,
In mutual concourse rise : Crop the gay rofe's vermeil bloom, And waft its fpoils, a fweet perfume,
In incenfe to the skies.
Wake, all ye mounting tribes, and fing; Ye plumy warblers of the spring, Harmonious anthems raise
To him who fhap'd your finer mould, Who tipp'd your glittering wings with gold, And tun'd your voice to praife.
Let man, by nobler paffions fway'd, The feeling heart, the judging head, In heav'nly praife employ; Spread his tremendous name around, Till heav'n's broad arch rings back the found, The gen'ral burst of joy.
Ye whom the charms of grandeur please, Nurs'd on the downy lap of eafe,
Fall proftrate at his throne:
Ye princes, rulers, all adore;
Praife him, ye kings, who makes your pow'r An image of his own.
Ye fair, by nature form'd to move, O praife th' eternal Source of love, With youth's enlivening fire: Let age take up the tuneful lay, Sigh his blefs'd name-then foar away, And afk an angel's lyre.
§ 10. Pfalm 4th. MERRICK. DE EFENDER of my rightful caufe, While anguifh from my bofom draws The deep-felt figh, the ceaseless pray’r, O make thy fervant ftill thy care. That aid, which oft my griefs has heal'd, To aid again, intreated, yield. How long, ye fons of pride, how long Shall falfehood arm your impious tongue, And erring rage your breaft inflame, My pow'r to thwart, my acts defame? To God my heart fhall vent its woe, Who, prompt his bleffings to bettow On each whofe breaft has learn'd his fear, Bows to my plaint the willing ear.
Him wouldst thou pleafe? With rev'rend awe Obferve the dictates of his Law: In fecret on thy couch reclin'd Search to its depth thy reftlefs mind, Till huh'd to peace the tumult lie, And wrath and ftrife within thee die. With pureft gifts approach his fhrine, And fafe to Him thy care refign. 1 hear a hopeless train demand,
"Where's now the with'd Deliv'rer's hand?" Do Thou, my God, do Thou reply, And let thy prefence from on high In full effufion o'er our head Its all-enlivening influence shed. What joy my confcious heart o'erflows! Not fuch th`exulting lab'rer knows,
When to his long expecting eyes
The vintage and the harvests rife, And, fhadowing wide the cultur'd foil, With full requital crown his toil. My weary eyes in fleep I clofe, My limbs, fecure, to reft compofe;
For Thou, great God, fhalt fcreen my head bed. And plant a guard around my
§ 11. Pfalm 5th. MERRICK. HE words that from my lips proceed, [rea My thoughts (for Thou thofe thoughts ca My God, my King, attentive weigh, And hear, O'hear me, when I pray. With earlieft zeal, with wakeful care, To Thee my foul fhall pour its pray`r, And, cre the dawn has freak'd the fky, To Thee direct its longing eye:
To Thee, whom nought obfcur'd by stain Can pleafe; whofe doors to feet profane Inexorable ftand; whofe Law Offenders from thy fight fhall awe. Let each whofe tongue to lies is turn'd, Who leifons of deceit has learn'd, Or thifts a brother's blood to fhed, dread. Thy hate and heaviest vengeance But I, whofe hope thy Love fupports, (How great that Love!) will tread thy courts, My knees in lowlieft rev'rence bend, And tow'rd thy fhrine my hands extend. Do thou, juft God, my path prepare, And guard me from each hoftile fhare; O lend me thy conducting ray, And level to my steps thy way. Behold me by a troop inclos'd, Offalfehood and of guilt compos'd: Their throat a fepulchre difplays, Deep, wide, infatiate; in their praife Lurks flatt'ry, and with fpecious art Belies the purpofe of their heart. O let the mischiefs they intend Retorted on themfelves defcend, And let thy wrath correct their fin, Whofe hearts thy mercy fails to win. May all whofe truft on Thee is plac'd Peace and delight perpetual tafte, Sav'd by thy care, in fongs of joy Their ever grateful voice employ, And fhare the gifts on thofe beftow'd, Who love the name of Jacob's God. To each who bears a guiltless heart, Thy grace its bleffings fhall impart; Strong as the brazen thield, thy aid Around him cafts its cov'ring fhade.
§ 12. Pfalm 6th. MERRICK. SPARE me, Lord, nor o'er my head The fulness of thy vengeance fhed. With pitying eye my weaknefs view, Heal my vex'd foul, my ftrength renew; And O, if yet my fins demand The wife corrections of thy hand,
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