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The Sluggard. 1. 'Tis the voice of the sluggard- I heard him complain,
“ You have wak'd me too soon-I must slumber again." As the door on its hinges, so he on his bed,
Turns his sides, and his shoulders, and his heavy head. 2.“ A little more sleep, and a little more slumber;" Thus he wastes half his days, and his hours without
number; And when he gets up, he sits folding his hands,
Or walks about sauntring, or trifling he stands. 3. I pass’d by his garden, I saw the wild brier,
The thorn, and the thistle, grow broader and higher. The clothes that hang on hiin are turning to rags;
And his money still wastes, till he starves or he begs. 4. I made him a visit, still hoping to find
He had ta’en better care for improving his mind :
But he scarce reads the Bible, and never loves thinking 5. Said I then to my heart, “ Here's a lesson for me ;
That man's but a picture of what I might be :
Creation and Providence. 1. I SING th' almighty pow'r of God,
That made the mountains rise ; That spread the flowing seas abroad,
And built the lofty skies. 2. I sing the wisdom that ordain'd
The sun to rule the day :
And all the stars obey.
3. I sing the goodness of the Lord,
That fill'd the earth with food. He form'd the creatures with his word,
And then pronounc'd them good. 4. Lord! how thy wonders are display'd
Where'er I turn mine eye; If I survey the ground I tread,
Or gaze upon the sky! 5. There's not a plant or flow'r below
But makes thy glories known; And clouds arise, and tempests blow,
By order from thy throne. 6. Creatures (as num'rous as they be)
Are subject to thy care; There's not a place where we can flee,
But God is present there. 7. In Heav'n he shines with beams of love;
With wrath in hell beneath! 'Tis on his earth I stand or move,
And 'tis his air I breathe. 8. His hand is my perpetual guard;
He keeps me with his eye: Why should I then forget the Lord,
Who is for ever nigh?
A morning in spring. 1. Lo! the bright, the rosy morning,
Calls nie forth to take the air : Cheerful spring, with smiles returning,
Ushers in the new-born year. 2. Nature now in all her beauty,
With her gently-moving tongue,
Of a grateful morning song.
3. See the ear.y blossoms springing!
See the jocund lambkins play! Hear the lark and linnet singing,
Welcome to the new-born day! 4. Vernal music, softly sounding,
Echoes through the verdant grove: Nature now with life abounding,
Swells with harmony and love. 6. Now the kind refreshing showers,
Water all the plains around : Springing grass, and painted flowers,
In the smiling meads abound. 6. Now their vernal dress assuming,
Leafy robes adorn the trees : Odours now, the air perfuming,
Sweetly swell the gentle breeze. 7. Praise to thee, thou great Creator!
Praise be thine from ev'ry tongue : Join, my soul, with ev'ry creature;
Join the universal song!
For the richest gifts bestow'd;
Sound Jehovah's praise aloud !
Heavenly wisdom. 1. How happy is the man who hears
Instruction's warning voice ; And who celestial Wisdom makes
His early, only choice.
Than east or west unfold;
Than is the gain of gold.
A length of happy years;
And honour bright appears.
4. She guides the young, with innocence,
In pleasure's path to tread:
Upon the hoary head.
So her rewards increase :
And all her paths are peace.
The Man of Ross.
Who hung with woods yon mountain's sultry brow?
Health to the sick, and solace to the swain.
Whose seats the weary traveller repose ?
“ The Man of Ross,” each lisping babe replies. 3. Behold the market-place with poor o'erspread !
The Man of Ross divides the weekly bread.
young who labour, and the old who rest. 4. Is any sick? The Man of Ross relieves,
Prescribes, attends, the med'cine makes, and gives.
Resignation. 1. Wale some in folly's pleasures roll,
And seek the joys that hurt the soul ;
Be mine, that silent calm repast,
A peaceful conscience to the last
Without a canker at the root;
When other friends must quit their trust. 8. Come then, my soul, be this thy guest,
And leave to folly's sons the rest
And night shall brighten into day. 4. With this companion in the shade,
My soul no more shall be dismay'd;
And the pale monarch of the tomb. 5. Though tempests drive me from the shore,
And floods descend, and billows roar;
My little bark shall brave the storm. 6. Amid the various scene of ills,
Each stroke some kind design fulfils;
When sov'reign love directs the rod ? 7. Peace, rebel thoughts-I'll not complain ;
My Father's smiles suspend my pain:
the balm that heals the smart. 8. Though Heav'n afflict, I'll not repine ;
Each heart-felt comfort still is mine :
And journey with me through the vald, 9. Blest Saviour! cheer that darksome way,
And lead me to the realms of day;