HYMN I.

HORAT.

EHOVAH reigns: let ev'ry nation hear,
And at his footstool bow with holy fear;
Let heaven's high arches echo with his name,
And the wide peopled earth his praise proclaim;
Then fend it down to hell's deep glooms re-
founding,
[ing.
Thro' all her caves in dreadful murmurs found-
He rules with wide and abfolute command
O'er the broad ocean and the ftedfaft land:
Jehovah reigns, unbounded and alone,
And all creation hangs beneath his throne:
He reigns alone; let no inferior nature
Ufurp or fhare the throne of the Creator.

He faw the ftruggling beams of infant light
Shoot thro' the maffy gloom of ancient night;
His spirit hush'd the clemental ftrife,

And brooded o'er the kindling feeds of life:
Seafons and months began the long proceffion,
And measur'd o'er the year in bright fucceffion.
The joyful fun fprung up th' ethereal way,
Strong as a giant, as a bridegroom gay;
And the pale moon diffus'd her fhadowy light
Superior o'er the dufky brow of night;
Ten thoufand glittering lamps the fkies adorning,
Numerous as dew-drops from the womb of
morning.

Earth's blooming face with rifing flow'rs he drefs'd,

And fpread a verdant mantle o'er her breaft; Then from the hollow of his hand he pours The circling waters round her winding fhores, The new-born world in their cool arms embracing,

And with foft murmurs ftill her banks careffing.
At length fhe rofe complete in finifh'd pride,
All fair and fpotlefs, like a virgin bride:
Fresh with untarnish'd luftre as fhe ftood,
Her Maker blefs'd his work, and call'd it good;
The morning-ftars, with joyful acclamation,
Exulting fung, and hail'd the new creation.

Yet this fair world, the creature of a day,
Tho' built by God's right hand, muft pafs away;
And long oblivion creep o'er mortal things,
The fate of empires, and the pride of kings:
Eternal night fhall veil their proudest ftory,
And drop the curtain o'er all human glory.

The fun himself, with weary clouds oppreft,
Shall in his filent, dark pavilion reft;
His golden urn fhall broke and ufelefs lie,
Amidst the common ruins of the sky!

The ftars ruth headlong in the wild commotion, And bathe their glittering foreheads in the occan. But fix'd, O God! for ever ftands thy throne; Jehovah reigns, a univerfe alone;

Th' eternal fire that feeds each vital flame,
Collected or diffus'd, is still the fame.
He dwells within his own unfathom'd effence,
And fills all space with his unbounded prefence.
But oh! our highest notes the theme debafe,
And filence is our leaft injurious praife: [troul,
Ceafe, ceafe your fongs, the daring flight con-
Revere him in the ftillness of the foul;
With filent duty meekly bend before him,
And deep within your inmoft hearts adore him.
HYMN HI.

PRAISE to God, immortal praife
For the love that crowns our days;
Bounteous fource of every joy,
Let thy praife our tongues employ;
For the bleflings of the field,
For the ftores the gardens yield,
For the vine's exalted juice,
For the gen'rous olive's ufe;
Flocks that whiten all the plain,
Yellow sheaves of ripen'd grain,
Clouds that drop their fatt'ning dews,
Suns that temp'rate warmth diffuse;
All that Spring with bounteous hand
Scatters o'er the finiling land;
All that lib'ral Autumn pours
From her rich o'erflowing stores:
Thefe to thee, my God, we owe,
Source whence all our bleffings flow;
And for thefe my foul thall raife
Grateful vows and folemn praife.
Yet, fhould rifing whirlwinds tear
From its ftem the rip'ning car;
Should the fig-tree's blafted fhoot
Drop her green untimely fruit;
Should the vine put forth no more,
Nor the olive yield her ftore;
Though the fick'ning flocks fhould fall,
And the herds defert the fall;
Should thine alter'd hand restrain
The early and the latter rain;
Blaft cach op'ning bud of joy,
And the rifing year deftroy;
Yet to thee my foul fhould raife
Grateful vows, and folemn praile;
And, when ev'ry bleffing's flown,
Love thee-for thy felf alone.

HYMN III.
For Eafter-Sunday.
AGAIN the Lord of life and light
Awakes the kindling ray;

HABAKKUK, iii. 17, 18.

Unfeals

Unfeals the eyelids of the morn,
And pours increafing day.

O what a night was that which wrapt
The heathen world in gloom!
Oviar a fun which broke this day,
Thumphant from the tomb!
This day be grateful homage paid,
And loud hofanuas fung;
Let gladness dwell in ev'ry heart,
And praife on ev'ry tongue.
Ten thoufand diff'ring lips shall join
To hail this welcome morn,
Which fcatters bleffings from its wings
To nations yet unborn.
Jefus, the friend of human kind,
With ftrong compaffion mov'd,
Defcended, like a pitying God,
To fave the fouls he lov'd.

The pow'rs of darkness leagued in vain
To bind his foul in death;

He fhook their kingdom when he fell,
With his expiring breath.

Not long the toils of hell could keep
The hope of Judah's line;
Corruption never could take hold
On aught fo much divine.

And now his conqu'ring chariot wheels
Afcend the lofty skies;

While broke, beneath his pow'rful cross,
Death's iron fceptre lies.

Exalted high at God's right hand,
And Lord of all below,

Thro him is pard'ning love difpens'd,
And boundicfs bleflings flow.

And full for erring, guilty man,
A brother's pity flows;

And fill his bleeding heart is touch'd
With mem'ry of our woes.

To thee, my Saviour and my King,
Glad homage let me give;
And ftand prepar'd like thee to die,
With thee that I may live.

HYMN IV.

BEHOLD where, breathing love divine,
Our dying Mafter stands!

His weeping followers gath'ring round
Receive his laft commands.

From that mild teacher's parting lips
What tender accents fell!
The gentle precept which he gave
Became its author well:

"Blefs'd is the man whose foft'ning heart
"Feels all another's pain;
"To whom the fupplicating eye
"Was never rais'd in vain;

"Whose breaft expands with gen'rous warmth
"A ftranger's woes to feel;
"And bleeds in pity o'er the wound
"He wants the pow'r to heal.

"He fpreads his kind supporting arms
"To ev'ry child of grief;
"His fecret bounty largely flows,
"And brings unafk'd relief.
"To gentle offices of love
"His feet are never flow;
"He views, thro' mercy's melting eye,
"A brother in a foc.

"Peace from the bofom of his God,
"My peace to him I give;

"And when he kneels before the throne, "His trembling foul fhall live.

"To him protection fhall be fhewn; "And mercy from above

"Defcend on those who thus fulfil "The perfect law of love."

HYMN V.

AWAKE, foul lift up thine eyes, my See where thy foes against thee rife, In long array, a num'rous host; Awake, my foul, or thou art loft. Here giant danger threat'ning ftands Muft'ring his pale terrific bands; There pleafure's filken banners fpread, And willing fouls are captive led. See where rebellious paffions rage, And fierce defires and lufts engage; The meaneft foe of all the train Has thousands and ten thousands flain. Thou tread'ft upon enchanted ground, Perils and fnares befet thee round; Beware of all, guard ev'ry part, But moft the traitor in thy heart. Come then, my foul, now learn to wield The weight of thine immortal fhield; Put on the armour from above Of heav'nly truth and heav'nly love. The terror and the charm repel, And pow'rs of earth, and pow'rs of hell: The man of Calvary triumph'd here; Why should his faithful followers fear?

As

Turns inward, and beholds a stranger there
Of high decent, and more than mortal rank;
An embryo God; a spark of fire divine,
Which must burn on for ages, when the sun
(Far trantitory creature of a day!)

Has clos'd his golden eye, and, wrapt in fhades,
Forgets his wonted journey thro' the east.

Seiz'd in

Ye citadels of light, and feats of Gods!
Perhaps my future home, from whence the foul
Revolving periods paft, may oft look back,
With recollected tenderness, on all
The various bufy fcenes the left below,
Its deep-laid projects and its strange events,
As on fome fond and doating tale that footh'd
Her infant hours-O be it lawful now
To tread the hallow'd circle of your courts,
And with mute wonder and delighted awe
Approach your burning confines.
On fancy's wild and roving wing I fail [thought,
From the green borders of the peopled earth,
And the pale moon, her duteous fair attendant;
From foltary Mars; from the vast orb
Of Jupiter, whofe huge gigantic bulk
Dances in ether like the lighteft leaf;
To the dim verge, the fuburbs of the system,
Where cheerlefs Saturn, 'midft his wat'ry moons,
Girt with a lucid zone, in gloomy pomp,
Sits like an exil'd monarch: fearless thence
I launch into the tracklefs deeps of space,
Where, burning round, ten thousand funs appear,
Of elder beam; which afk no leave to fhine
Of our terreftrial star, nor borrow light
From the proud regent of our fcanty day;
Sons of the morning, first-born of creation,
And only lefs than him who marks their track,
And guides their fiery wheels. Here muft 1 ftop,
Or is there aught beyond? What hand unfeen
Impels me onward thro' the glowing orbs
Of habitable nature, far remote,
To the dread confines of eternal night,
To folitudes of vaft unpeopled space,
The defarts of creation, wide and wild,
Where embryo fyftems and unkindled funs
Sleep in the womb of chaos? Fancy droops,
And thought aftonifh'd stops her bold carcer.
But, oh thou mighty mind I whofe pow'rful word
Said, thus let all things be, and thus they were,
Where fhall I feek thy prefence? how unblam'd
Invoke thy dread perfection:-

Have the broad eye-lids of the morn beheld thee ›
Or does the beamy fhoulder of Orion
Support thy throne? O look with pity down
On erring, guilty man! not in thy names
Of terror clad; not with thofe thunders arm'd
That confcious Sinai felt, when fear appal'd
The fcatter'd tribes thou haft a gentler voice,
That whispers comfort to the fwelling heart,
Abafh'd, yet longing to behold her Maker.
But now my foul, unus'd to ftretch her pow'rs
In flight fo daring, drops her weary wing,
And fecks again the known accuftom'd spot,
Dreft up with fun, and fhade, and lawns, and
A manfion fair and fpacious for its gueft, [ftreams;
And full replete with wonders. Let me here,
Content and grateful, wait th' appointed time,

And ripen for the skies: the hour will come When all thefe fplendours bursting on my fight Shall ftand unveil'd, and to my ravish'd fenfe Unlock the glories of the world unknown.

58. Hymn to Content. Mrs. BARBAULD.

natura beatos

Omnibus effe dedit, fi quis cognoverit uti

CLAUDIAN.

THOU, the Nymph with placid eye!
O feldom found, yet ever nigh!

Receive my temp'rate vow:
Not all the ftorms that shake the pole
Can e'er difturb thy halcyon foul,
And finooth unalter'd brow,
O come, in fimple veft array'd,
With all thy fober cheer difplay'd,
To bleis my longing fight;
Thy meek regard, thy matron grace,
Thy mien compos'd, thy even pace,
And chafte fubdued delight.
No more by varying paffions beat,
O gently guide my pilgrim feet

To find thy hermit cell;
Where in fome pure and equal fky
Beneath thy foft indulgent eye

The modeft virtues dwell.

Simplicity in Attic veft,

And Innocence with candid breast,

And clear undaunted eye;
And Hope, who points to diftant years,
Fair op'ning thro' this vale of tears

A vifta to the sky.

There Health, thro' whofe calm bofom glide The temp'rate joys in even tide,

That rarely ebb or flow;

And Patience there, thy fifter meek,
Prefents her mild unvarying check
To meet the offer'd blow.
Her influence taught the Phrygian fage
A tyrant mafter's wanton rage

With fettled fmiles to meet;
Inur'd to toil and bitter bread,
He bow'd his meek fubmitted head,

And kifs'd thy fainted feet.
But thou, oh Nymph retir'd and coy!
In what brown hamlet doft thou joy

To tell thy tender tale?

The lowlieft children of the ground,
Mofs-rofe and violet, bloffom round,
And lily of the vale.

O fay what foft propitious hour
I beit
may choofe to hail thy pow'r,
And court thy gentle fway?
When Autumn, friendly to the Muse,
Shall thy own modest tints diffuse,
And fhed thy milder day.
When Eve, her dewy star beneath,
Thy balmy spirit loves to breathe,

And ev'ry ftorm is laid;
If fuch an hour was e'er thy choice,
Oft let me hear thy foothing voice

Low whifp'ring thro' the fuáde.

WISDOM! if thy foft controul Can foothe the fickness of the foul, Can bid the warring paffions cease, And breathe the calm of tender peace; Wisdom! I blefs thy gentle fway, And ever, ever will obey.

woe,

But if thou com'ft with frown auftere To nurse the brood of care and fear; To bid our fwecteft paffions die, And leave us in their room a figh; Or if thine afpc&t ftern have pow'r To wither each poor tranfient flow'r That cheers this pilgrimage of And dry the fprings whence hope should flow; Wifdom, thine empire I difclaim, Thou empty boast of pompous name! In gloomy fhade of cloifters dwell, But never haunt my cheerful cell. Hail to pleafure's frolic train! Hail to fancy's golden reign! Feftive mirth, and laughter wild, Free and sportful as the child! Hope with eager fparkling eyes, And eafy faith, and fond furprife! Let thefe, in fairy colours dreft, For ever fhare my careless breaft: Then, tho' wife I may not be, The wife themselves thall envy me.

$60. Defpondency. An Ode. BURNS.

OPPRESS'D with grief, opprefs'd with care,

A burden more than I can bear,

I fit me down and figh: O life! thou art a galling load, Along a rough, a weary road, To wretches fuch as I!

Dim-backward as I caft my view,

What fick'ning scenes appear!

What forrows yet may pierce me thro',
Too juftly I may fear!
Still caring, defpairing,
Muft be my bitter doom;
My woes here fhall clofe ne'er,
But with the clafing tomb!

Happy! ye fons of bufy life,
Who, equal to the buffling ftrife,
No other view regard!

Ev'n when the wifhed end's denied,
Yet, while the bufy means are plied,
They bring their own reward:
Whilft I, a' hope-abandon'd wight,
Unfitted with an aim,'
Meet ev'ry fad returning night
And joylefs morn the fame.
You, buftling and juftling,
Forget each grief and pain;
I, liftless yet reflefs,
Find ev'ry profpect vain.

How bleft the Solitary's lot, Who, all-forgetting, all forgot, Within his humble cell,

The cavern wild with tangling roots,
Sits o'er his newly-gather'd fruits,
Befide his crystal well!

Or haply to his ev'ning thought,
By unfrequented stream,

The ways of men are diftant brought,
A faint-collected dream:

While praifing, and raising

His thoughts to Heav'n on high,
As wand'ring, meand'ring,
He views the folemn fky.

Than I, no lonely Hermit plac'd
Where never human footstep trac'è,
Lefs fit to play the part,

The lucky moment to improve,
And juft to ftop, and just to move,
With felf-refpecting art;

But ah! those pleafures, loves, and joys,
Which I too keenly tafte,
The Solitary can defpife,
Can want, and yet be bleft!
He needs not, he heeds not,
Or human love or hate;
Whilft I here, muft cry here,
At perfidy ingrate!

Oh! enviable carly days,

When dancing thoughtlefs Pleafure's mazg
To Care, to Guilt unknown!
How ill exchang'd for riper times,
To feel the follies or the crimes

Of others, or my own!
Ye tiny elves, that guiltlefs fport
Like linnets in the bush,
Ye little know the ills ye court,
When manhood is your
with!
The loffes, the croffes,
That active man engage;
The fears all, the tears all,
Of dim declining age!

How by himself infenfibly betray'd!
In our own ftrength unhappily fecure,
Too little cautious of the adverse pow'r;
And, by the blast of self-opinion mov'd,
We wish to charm, and feek to be belov'd.
On pleafure's flow'ry brink we idly stray,
Mafters as yet of our returning way:
Seeing no danger, we difarm our mind,
And give our conduct to the waves and wind:
Then in the flow'ry mead, or verdant shade,
To wanton dalliance negligently laid,
We weave the chaplet, and we crown the bowl,
And fmiling fee the nearer waters roll;
Till the ftrong gufts of raging paffion rife,
Till the dire tempeft mingles earth and skies;
And, fwift into the boundiefs ocean borne,
Our foolish confidence too late we mourn:

Round