Ah! why, by passing clouds oppress'd, Should vexing thoughts distract thy breast? Turn, turn to Him, in every pain,

Whom never suppliant sought in vain;
Thy strength, in joy's extatic day,
Thy hope, when joy has pass'd away.

PART II.

O God! my heart within me faints,
And pours in sighs her deep complaints;
Yet many a thought shall linger still,
By Carmel's height and Tabor's rill,
The Olive Mount my Saviour trod,
The rocks that saw and own'd their God.

The morning beam that wakes the skies, Shall see my matin incense rise; The evening Seraphs as they rove, Shall catch the notes of joy and love, And sullen night, with drowsy ear, The still repeated anthem hear.

My soul shall cry to thee, O Lord,
To thee, supreme incarnate Word,
My rock and fortress, shield and friend,
Creator, Saviour, source, and end;

And thou wilt hear thy servant's prayer,
Though death and darkness speak despair.

Ah! why, by passing clouds oppress'd, Should vexing thoughts distract thy breast? Turn, turn to Him, in every pain,

Whom never suppliant sought in vain;
Thy strength, in joy's extati day,

Thy hope, when joy has passed away.

PSALM CXXIII. PARAPHRASE.

LORD, before thy throne we bend,

Lord, to thee our eyes ascend;
Servants to our Master true,

Lo, we yield the homage due;
Children, to our Sire we fly,
Abba, Father, hear our cry!

To the dust our knees we bow;
We are weak, but mighty Thou;

Sore distress'd, yet suppliant still
We await thy holy will:

Bound to earth and rooted here

Till our Saviour God appear.

From the Heavens, thy dwelling place, Shed, O shed, thy pardoning grace,

Turn to save us:-none below

Pause to hear our silent woe;

Pleased or sad, a thoughtless throng,

Still they gaze and pass along.

Leave us not beneath the power

Of temptation's darkest hour;
Swift to seal their captive's doom,
See our foes exulting come:
Jesus, Saviour, yet be nigh,
Lord of Life and Victory!

A FRAGMENT.

1814.

"AND what is God?" the Grecian Tyrant cried; "The question claims a pause," the Sage replied. A day he ask'd;-the hours their course fulfil;

A second came;-a day was wanting still.
A third;-in vain, for still the subject grew,
Too vast to measure, and too bright to view.
Nor think, that he, whose reason proved too small
To grasp the mind that made and governs all,
In Superstition's mystic mazes stray'd

By ancient song and Delphic dreams betray'd.
No fabled God he sought; no Pagan Jove
On Ida's height, or in Dodona's grove;
Or where retir'd on Libya's thirsty plain,
The dark impostor held his humbler reign:
A brighter field his wakeful eye explor'd,
And labouring thought pursued as fancy soar'd.
Where Morn's bright tresses stream along the skies,
He mark'd the Orb of Day majestic rise;

He saw his bright wheels track the ethereal plain,

And mild descending meet the western main:

Then, as still Evening came, serenely shone
The Moon refulgent on her silver throne,
With every star that leads the circling year,
Or gems the girdle of the vaulted sphere.
Intent the sage their marshall'd hosts survey'd,
And paus'd, and worshipp'd in the midnight shade;
But onward soon his active spirit flew,

And still new wonders open'd on his view.

In thought he saw bright Nature stand display'd With all her charms, in all her wealth array'd, Mother of arts and arms, whose ancient sway A thousand realms, a thousand lords obey; From where Euphrates swells with eastern pride, And rapid Tigris rolls his bridge-less tide; From the deep shade whence Nilus' fountains pour Their fruitful streams to Egypt's utmost shore; From pine-clad Atlas, and the fabled Isles Where plenty reigns, and spring for ever smiles, To those fair fields that fam'd Hydaspes laves, The Chersonese, and Ister's turbid waves; And Scythia's farthest wilds. Before him lay The mighty prospect, mountain, lake, and bay, Forest, and sounding flood, and hill, and plain, Dark with perpetual storm, or waving rich with grain. Lo! where Sabea's happy shores extend,

Fresh odours breathe, and spicy clouds ascend;

F