SECTION XII. An evening hymn. AND now another day is gone, I'll sing my Maker's praise: But how my childhood runs to waste! Lord! give me pardon for the past, I lay my body down to sleep; Let angels guard my head, And through the hours of darkness keep With cheerful heart I close my eyes, Since God will not remove ; And in the morning let me rise, Rejoicing in his love. SECTION XIII. The winter's day. WHEN raging storms deform the air, And clouds of snow descend; And the wide landscape, bright and fair, No deepen'd colours blend; WATTS. When biting frost rides on the wind, Bleak from the north and east ; And wealth is at its ease reclin'd, Prepar'd to laugh and feast; When the poor trav'ller treads the plain, All dubious of his way; And crawls with night-increasing pain, And dreads the parting day; When poverty in vile attire, Shrinks from the biting blast; Or hovers o'er the pigmy fire, And fears it will not last; When the fond mother hugs her child, And the poor infant, frost-beguil❜d, Scarce feels that it is prest: Then let your bounteous hand extend Nor spurn the wretched, while they bend SECTION XIV. Compassion and forgiveness. I HEAR the voice of wo; A brother mortal mourns: My eyes with tears, for tears o'erflow; My heart his sighs returns. I hear the thirsty cry; The famish'd beg for bread: O let my spring its streams supply; And shall not wrath relent, Touch'd by that humble strain, How else, on sprightly wing, Can hope bear high my pray'r, Up to thy throne, my God, my King, To plead for pardon there? SECTION XV. The ignorance of man. BEHOLD yon new-born infant griev'd Aloud the speechless suppliant cries, The woes that in its bosom rise, And speak its nature-man. That infant, whose advancing hour Life's various sorrows try, (Sad proof of sin's transmissive pow'r!) That infant, Lord, am I. SCOTT. A childhood yet my thoughts confess, Though long in years mature; Unknowing whence I feel distress, And where, or what, its cure. Author of good! to thee I turn Alone can all my wants discern ; O let thy fear within me dwell; And oh! by error's force subdu'd, Prepost'rous shuns the latent good, Not to my wish, but to my want, Do thou thy gifts apply: Unask'd, what good thou knowest, grant; SECTION XVI. The happy choice. BESET with snares on ev'ry hand, To guide my doubtful footsteps right. MERRICK. Engage this frail and wav'ring heart, To scorn the trifles of a day, For joys that never fade away. Then let the wildest storms arise; If thou, my Father! still art nigh, SECTION XVII. The fall of the leaf. SEE the leaves around us falling, Thus to thoughtless mortals calling, "Sons of Adam, (once in Eden, When, like us, he blighted fell,) Hear the lecture we are reading; Virgins, much, too much presuming DODDRIDGE. |