The beauteous, seraph sister-band
With earnest tears I pray,
Thou know'st the snares on ev'ry hand,
Guide thou their steps away!
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!
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 shall 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.
UNDER THE PRESSURE OF VIOLENT ANGUISH.
O THOU Great Being! what thou art
Surpasses me to know:
Yet sure I am, that known to thee
Are all thy works below.
Thy creature here before thee stands,
All wretched and distrest;
Yet sure those ills that wring my soul
Obey thy high behest.
Sure thou, Almighty, canst not act
From cruelty or wrath!.
O, free my weary eyes from tears,
Or close them fast in death!
But if I must afflicted be,
To suit some wild design;
Then man my soul with firm resolves To bear and not repine!