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Thy providence my life sustain’d,
And all my wants redress’d, When in the silent womb I lay,
And hung upon the breast.
To all my weak complaints and cries
Thy mercy lent an ear,
To form themselves in prayer.
Unnumber'd comforts to my soul
Thy tender care bestow'd, Before my infant heart conceived
From whom those comforts flow'd.
When in the slippery paths of youth
With heedless steps I ran,
And led me up to man.
Through hidden dangers, toils, and deaths,
It gently cleard my way, And through the pleasing snares of vice,
More to be fear'd than they.
When worn with sickness, oft hast thou
With health renew'd my face; And when in sins and sorrow sunk,
Revived my soul with grace.
Thy bounteous hand with worldly bliss
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;
That tastes those gifts with joy.
Through every period of my life
Thy goodness I'll pursue ;
The glorious theme renew.
When nature fails, and day and night
Divide thy works no more, My ever-grateful heart, O Lord !
Thy mercy shall adore.
Through all eternity to Thee
A joyful song I'll raise, But, oh! eternity's too short
To utter all thy praise.
The lofty pillars of the sky,
How short is life's uncertain's space!
Alas ! how quickly done! How swift the wild precarious chase! And yet how difficult the race!
How very hard to run!
Youth stops at first its wilful ears
To wisdom's prudent voice; Till now arrived to riper years, Experienced Age, worn out with cares,
Repents its earlier choice.
What though its prospects now appear
So pleasing and refined ? Yet groundless hope, and anxious fear, By turns the busy moments share,
And prey upon the mind.
Since then false joys our fancy cheat
With hopes of real bliss; Ye guardian powers, that rule my fate, The only wish that I create,
Is all comprised in this :
May I, through life's uncertain tide,
Be still from pain exempt;
And yet above contempt.
But should your providence divine
A greater bliss intend; May all those blessings you design, (If e'er those blessings shall be mine)
Be centred in a friend.
TO THE MOON.
BY CHARLOTTE SMITH.
QUEEN of the silver bow!-by thy pale beam,
Alone and pensive, I delight to stray, And watch thy shadow trembling in the stream,
Or mark the floating clonds that cross thy way. And while I gaze, thy mild and placid light
Sheds a soft calm upon my troubled breast; And oft I think,-fair planet of the night,
That in thy orb the wretched may lave rest: