II.

Whate'er we fondly call our own
belongs to heav'n's great Lord;
The bleffings lent us for a day
are foon to be reftor'd.

III.

'Tis God that lifts our comforts high,
or finks them in the grave;
He gives; and when he takes away,
he takes but what he gave.

IV.

Then, ever blessed be his name!
his goodness fwell'd our store;
His justice but resumes its own;
'tis ours ftill to adore.

HOW

IV.

JOB, iii.
iii. 17.-20.

I.

WOW ftill and peaceful is the grave! where, life's vain tumults paft, Th' appointed houfe, by Heav'n's decree, receives us all at last.

II.

The wicked there from troubling ceafe; their paffions rage no more; And there the weary pilgrim refts from all the toils he bore,

III.

There reft the pris'ners, now releas'd from Slav'ry's fad abode;

No more they hear th' oppreffor's voice, or dread the tyrant's rod.

IV.

There fervants, mafters, fmall and partake the fame repose;

And there, in peace, the afhes mix of those who once were foes, C

V.

great,

All, levell'd by the hand of Death, A lie fleeping in the tomb; ;

Till God in judgment call them forth to meet their final doom,

.

THO

V.

JOB, V. 6.-12.

I.

HO' troublesprings not from the dust, nor forrow from the ground;

Yet ills on ills, by Heav'n's decree, in man's estate are found.

II.

As fparks in close fucceffion rife,
fo man, the child of woe,
Is doom'd to endless cares and toils
through all his life below.

III.

But with my God I leave my caufe;
from him I feek relief;
To him, in confidence of pray❜r,
unbofom all my grief.

IV.

Unnumber'd are his wond'rous works, unfearchable his ways;

'Tis his the mourning foul to cheer, the bowed down to raise,

VI.

JOB, viii. 11.-22.

1.

HE rufh may rife where waters flow, and flags beside the stream;

THE

But foon their verdure fades and dies before the fcorching beam.

II.

So is the finner's hope cut off; or if it tranfient rife,

'Tis like the spider's airy web, from every breath that flies.

III.

Fixt on his house he leans; his house, and all its props, decay:

He holds it faft; but while he holds, the tott'ring frame gives way.

IV.

Fair in his garden to the fun

his boughs with verdure smile; And, deeply fix'd, his fpreading roots unfhaken ftand a while.

V.

But forth the fentence flies from Heav'n that fweeps him from his place; Which then denies him for its lord, nor owns it knew his face.

VI.

Lo! this the joy of wicked men,
who Heaven's high laws defpife;
They quickly fall; and in their room
as quickly others rife.

VII.

But, for the juft, with gracious care
God will his pow'r employ;
He'll teach their lips to fing his praise,
and fill their hearts with joy.

VII.

JOB, ix. 2.-10.

I.

WOW fhould the fons of Adam's race

How

be pure before their God?

If he contends in righteousness, we fink beneath his rod.