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Thy providence my life sustain'd,
And hung upon the breast.
To all my weak complaints and cries
Ere yet my feeble thoughts had learn'd
Unnumber'd comforts to my soul
When in the slippery paths of youth
Thine arm, unseen, convey'd me safe,
And led me up to man.
Through hidden dangers, toils, and deaths,
It gently clear'd my way,
And through the pleasing snares of vice,
More to be fear'd than they.
When worn with sickness, oft hast thou
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
Nor is the least a cheerful heart,
Through every period of my life
When nature fails, and day and night
Divide thy works no more, My ever-grateful heart, O Lord!
Thy mercy shall adore.
BY THE SAME.
THE lofty pillars of the sky,
And spacious concave raised on high,
The moon takes up the wondrous tale,
Whilst all the stars that round her burn,
And spread the truth from pole to pole.
For ever singing, as they shine,
How short is life's uncertain's space!
How swift the wild precarious chase!
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
Yet groundless hope, and anxious fear,
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,
May all my wants be still supplied,
My state too low to admit of pride,
But should your providence divine
May all those blessings you design,
TO THE MOON.
BY CHARLOTTE SMITH.
QUEEN of the silver bow!-by thy pale beam,
And watch thy shadow trembling in the stream,
That in thy orb the wretched may have rest :