Bless him, thou God of love and truth,

Up to a parent's wish!

V.

The beauteous, seraph sister-band,

With earnest tears I pray,

Thou know'st the snares on ev'ry hand, Guide Thou their steps alway!

VI.

When soon or late they reach that coast,
O'er life's rough ocean driv'n,
May they rejoice, no wand'rer lost,
A family in heav'n!

A GRACE BEFORE DINNER.

O THOU, who kindly dost provide
For ev'ry creature's want!

We bless thee, God of Nature wide
For all thy goodness lent:

And if it please thee, heav'nly Guide,
May never worse be sent;

But whether granted or denied,

Lord, bless us with content!

Amen

THE FIRST PSALM.

THE man in life, wherever plac'd,
Hath happiness in store,

Who walks not in the wicked's way,
Nor learns their guilty lore!

Nor from the seat of scornful pride
Casts forth his eyes abroad,

But with humility and awe

Still walks before his God.

That man sha:l flourish like the trees Which by the streamlets grow; The fruitful top is spread on high, And firm the root below.

But he whose blossom buds in guilt,
Shall to the ground be cast,
And, like the rootless stubble, tost
Before the sweeping blast.

For why? That God, the good adore,
Hath giv❜n them peace and rest,
But hath decreed that wicked men
Shall ne'er be truly blest.

THE FIRST SIX VERSES OF THE NINETIETH PSALM.

O THOU, the first, the greatest friend

Of all the human race!

Whose strong right hand has ever been
Their stay and dwelling place!

Before the mountains heav'd their heads
Beneath thy forming hand,

Before this pond'rous globe itself

Arose at thy command;

That Pow'r which rais'd, and still upholds

This universal frame,

From countless, unbeginning time,

Was ever still the same.

Those mighty periods of years

Which seem to us so vast,
Appear no more before thy sight
Than yesterday that's past.

Thou giv'st the word thy creature, man,

Is to existence brought;

Again thou say'st, "Ye sons of men,

Return ye into nought!"

Thou layest them, with all their cares,
In everlasting sleep;

As with a flood Thou tak'st them off

With overwhelming sweep.

They flourish like the morning flow'r,
In beauty's pride array'd;

But long ere night, cut down, it lies
All wither'd and decay'd.

EPISTLE TO A YOUNG FRIEND.

I.

1 LANG hae thought, my youthfu' friend,
A something to have sent you,
Tho' it should serve no other end
Than just a kind memento;
But how the subject-theme may gang,
Let time and chance determine;
Perhaps it may turn out a sang,
Perhaps turn out a sermon.

11.

Ye'll try the world soon, my lad,
And Andrew, dear, believe me,
Ye'll find mankind an unco squad,
And muckle they may grieve ye!
For care and trouble set your thought,
Ev'n when your end's attained;

And a' your views may come to nought,
When ev'ry nerve is strained.

III.

I'll no say men are villains a';

The real, harden'd, wicked,

Wha hae nae check but human law
Are to a few restricked

But och! mankind are unco weak,

An' little to be trusted;

If self the wav'ring balance shake,
It's rarely right adjusted!

IV.

Yet they wha fa' in fortune's strife,
Their fate we should na censure
For still th' important end of life
They equally may answer;
A man may hae an honest heart,
Tho' poortith hourly stare him;
A man may tak a neebor's part,
Yet hae na cash to spare him.

V.

Ay free, aff han', your story tell,
When wi' a bosom crony;
But still keep something to yoursel,
Ye'll scarcely tell to ony.
Conceal yoursel as weel's ye can,

Frae critical dissection;

But keek thro' ev'ry other man,

Wi' sharpen'd, sly inspection.

The sacred lowe o' weel-plac'd love,
Luxuriantly indulge it;

But never tempt th' illicit rove,
Tho' naething should divulge it;
I waive the quantum o' the sin,
The hazard o' concealing,
But och! it hardens a' within,

And petrifies the feeling!