What mountains, earthquakes, clouds, and smokes

are seen,

What ambient fires conceal the Lord within;
What working wonders give the promis'd place,
And load the conduct of a stubborn race!
In all the work a lively fancy flows,
O'er all the work sincere affection glows:
While Truth's firm rein the course of Fancy guides,
And o'er affection zeal divine presides.

Borne on the prophet's wings, methinks I fly
Amongst eternal attributes on high:
And here I touch at Love supremely fair,
And now at Power, anon at Mercy there;
So, like a warbling bird, my tunes I raise,
On those green boughs the Tree of Life displays;
Whose twelve fair fruits, each month by turns re-
ceives,

And, for the nations' healing, ope their leaves.
Then be the nations heal'd, for this I sing,
Descending softly from the prophet's wing.

Thou, world, attend the case of Israel; see
'T will thus at large refer to God and thee,
If Love be shown thee, turn thine eyes above,
And pay the duties relative to Love;
If Power be shown, and wonderfully so,
Wonder and thank, adore, and bow below.
If Power that led thee, now no longer lead,
But brow-bent Justice draws the flaming blade;
When Love is scorn'd, when Sin the sword pro-
vokes,

Let tears and prayers avert, or heal the strokes;
If Justice leaves to wound, and thou to groan,
Beneath new lords, in countries not thine own,
Know this for Mercy's act, and let your lays,
Grateful in all, recount the cause of praise:
Then Love returns, and while no sins divide
The firm alliance, Power will shield thy side.
See the grand round of Providence's care,
See realms assisted here, and punish'd there;
O'er the just circle cast thy wondering eyes,
Thank while you gaze, and study to be wise,

HYMN FOR MORNING.

SEE the star that leads the day,
Rising, shoots a golden ray,
To make the shades of darkness go
From Heaven above and Earth below;
And warn us early with the sight,
To leave the beds of silent night;
From an heart sincere and sound,
From its very deepest ground;
Send devotion up on high,
Wing'd with heat to reach the sky..
See the time for sleep bas run,
Rise before, or with the Sun:
Lift thy hands, and humbly pray,
The fountain of eternal day;
That, as the light serenely fair,
Illustrates all the tracts of air;
The Sacred Spirit so may rest,

With quickening beams, upon thy breast;
And kindly clean it all within,
From darker b einishes of sin;

And shine with grace until we view
The realm it gilds with glory too.
See the day that dawns in air,
Brings along its toil and care:

VOL. IX.

From the lap of night it springs,
With heaps of business on its wings;
Prepare to meet them in a mind,
That bows submissively resign'd;
That would to works appointed fall,
That knows that God has order'd all.
And whether, with a small repast,
We break the sober morning fast;
Or in our thoughts and houses lay
The future methods of the day;
Or early walk abroad to meet
Our business, with industrious feet:
Whate'er we think, whate'er we do,
His glory still be kept in view.
O, giver of eternal bliss,
Heavenly Father, grant me this;
Grant it all, as well as me,
All whose hearts are fix'd on thee;
Who revere thy Son above,
Who thy Sacred Spirit love.

HYMN FOR NOON.
THE Sun is swiftly mounted high,
It glitters in the southern sky;
Its beams with force and glory beat,
And fruitful Earth is fill'd with heat.
Father, also with thy fire

Warm the cold, the dead desire,
And make the sacred love of thee,
Within my soul, a sun to me.
Let it shine so fairly bright,
That nothing else be took for light;
That worldly charms be seen to fade,
And in its lustre find a shade.
Let it strongly shine within,
To scatter all the clouds of sin,
That drive when gusts of passion rise,
And intercept it from our eyes.
Let its glory more than vie
With the Sun that lights the sky:
Let it swiftly mount in air,
Mount with that, and leave it there;
And soar, with more aspiring flight,
To realms of everlasting light.
Thus, while here I'm forc'd to be,
I daily wish to live with thee;
And feel that union which thy love
Will, after death, compiete above.
From my soul I send my prayer,
Great Creator, bow thine ear;
Thou, for whose propitious sway
The world was taught to see the day;
Who spake the word, and Earth begun,
And show'd its beauties in the Sun;
With pleasure I thy creatures view,
And would, with good affection too;
Good affection sweetly free,
Loose from them, and 1:ove to thee;
O, teach me, due returns to give,
And to thy glory let me live;

And then my days shall shine the more,
Or pass more blessed than before.

HYMN FOR EVENING. THE beam-repelling mists arise, And evening spreads obscurer skies:

DD

The twilight will the night forerun,
And night itself be soon begun.
Upon thy knees devoutly bow,
And pray the Lord of glory now,
To fill thy breast, or deadly sin
May cause a blinder night within.
And whether pleasing vapours rise,
Which gently dim the closing eyes;
Which make the weary members bless'd,
With sweet refreshment in their rest;
Or whether spirits in the brain
Dispel their soft embrace again;
And on my watchful bed I stay,
Forsook by sleep, and waiting day;
Be God for ever in my view,
And never he forsake me too;
But still as day concludes in night,
To break again with new-born light;
His wondrous bounty let me find,
With still a more enlighten'd mind;
When grace and love in one agree,
Grace from God, and love from me;
Grace that will from Heaven inspire,
Love that seals it in desire;
Grace and love that mingle beams,
And fill me with increasing flames.

Thou that hast thy palace far
Above the Moon and every star,
Thou that sittest on a throne

To which the night was never known,
Regard my voice and make me bless'd,
By kindly granting its request.
If thoughts on thee my soul employ,
My darkness will afford me joy,
Till thou shalt call, and I shall soar,
And part with darkness evermore.

THE SOUL IN SORROW.
WITH kind compassion hear me cry,
O, Jesu, Lord of Life, on high!

As when the summer's seasons beat,
With scorching flame and parching heat:
The trees are burnt, the flowers fade,
And thirsty gaps in earth are made:
My thoughts of comfort languish so,
And so my soul is broke by woe.
Then on thy servant's drooping head
Thy dews of blessing sweetly shed;
Let those a quick refreshment give,
And raise my mind, and bid me live.
My fears of danger, while I breathe,
My dread of endless Hell beneath:
My sense of sorrow for my sin,
To springing comfort, change within;
Change all my sad complaints for ease,
To cheerful notes of endless praise;
Nor let a tear mine eyes employ,
But such as owe their birth to joy:
Joy transporting, sweet, and strong,
Fit to fill and raise my song;
Joy that shall resounded be,
While days and nights succeed for me:
Be not as a judge severe,

For so thy presence who may bear?
On all my words and actions look,
(I know they're written in thy book;)
But then regard my mournful cry,
And look with Mercy's gracious eye;

What needs my blood, since thine will do, To pay the debt to Justice due?

O, tender Mercy's art divine!

Thy sorrow proves the cure of mine!
Thy dropping wounds, thy woeful smart,
Allay the bleedings of my heart:

Thy death, in death's extreme of pain,
Restores my soul to life again.
Guide me then, for here I burn,
To make my Saviour some return.
I'll rise (if that will please him, still,
And sure I've heard him own it will);
I'll trace his steps, and bear my cross,
Despising every grief and loss;
Since he, despising pain and shame,
First took up his, and did the same.

THE HAPPY MAN.
How bless'd the man, how fully so,
As far as man is bless'd below,
Who, taking up his cross, essays
To follow Jesus all his days;
With resolution to obey,
And steps enlarging in his way.
The Father of the saints above
Adopts him with a father's love,
And makes his bosom throughly shine
With wondrous stores of grace divine;
Sweet grace divine, the pledge of joy,
That will his soul above employ;
Full joy, that, when his time is done,
Becomes his portion as a son.
Ah me! the sweet infus'd desires,
The fervid wishes, holy fires,
Which thus a melted heart refine,
Such are his, and such be mine.
From hence despising all besides
That Earth reveals, or Ocean hides;
All that men in either prize,
On God alone he sets his eyes.
From hence his hope is on the wings,
His health renews, his safety springs,
His glory blazes up below,
And all the streams of comfort flow.

He calls his Saviour-King above,
Lord of Mercy, Lord of Love;
And finds a kingly care defend,
And mercy smile, and love descend,
To cheer, to guide him in the ways
Of this vain world's deceitful maze:
And though the wicked Earth display
Its terrours in their fierce array;}
Or gape so wide that horrour shows
Its hell replete with endless woes;
Such succour keeps him clear of ill,
Still firm to good, and dauntless still.
So, fix'd by Providence's hands,
A rock amidst an ocean stands;
So bears, without a trembling dread,
The tempest beating round its head;
And with its side repels the wave,
Whose hollow seems a coming grave:
The skies, the deeps, are heard to roar;
The rock stands settled as before.

1, all with whom he has to do, Admire the life which blesses you, That feeds a foe, that aids a friend, Without a bye designing end;

Its knowing real interest lies
On the bright side of yonder skies,
Where, having made a title fair,

It mounts, and leaves the world to care.
While he that seeks for pleasing days,
In earthly joys and evil ways,
Is but the fool of toil or fame,
(Though happy be the spacious name)

And made by wealth, which makes him great,
A more conspicuous wretch of state.

THE WAY TO HAPPINESS.

How long, ye miserable blind,
Shall idle dreams engage your mind;
How long the passions make their flight
At empty shadows of delight.
No more in paths of errour stray,
The Lord thy Jesus is the way,
The spring of happiness, and where
Should men seek happiness but there!
Then run to meet him at your need,
Run with boldness, run with speed,
For he forsook his own abode

To meet thee more than half the road.
He laid aside his radiant crown,
And love for mankind brought him down
To thirst and hunger, pain and woe,
To wounds, to death itself below;
And he, that suffer'd these alone
For all the world, despises none.
To bid the soul, that's sick, be clean,
To bring the lost to life again;
To comfort those that grieve for ill,
Is his peculiar goodness still.
And, as the thoughts of parents run
Upon a dear and only son,
So kind a love his mercies show,
So kind and more extremely so.

Thrice happy men! (or find a phrase
That speaks your bliss with greater praise)
Who most obedient to thy call,
Leaving pleasures, leaving all,

With heart, with soul, with strength incline,
O sweetest Jesu! to be thine.

Who know thy will, observe thy ways,
And in thy service spend their days:
Ev'n death, that seems to set them free,
But brings them closer still to thee.

THE CONVERT'S LOVE.

BLESSED light of saints on high,
Who fill the mausions of the sky;
Sure defence, whose mercy still
Preserves thy subjects here from ill;
Oh, my Jesus! make me know
How to pay the thanks I owe.

As the fond sheep that idly strays,
With wanton play, through winding ways,
Which never hits the road of home,
O'er wilds of danger learns to roam,
Till, wearied out with idle fear,
And passing there, and turning here,
He will, for rest, to covert run,
And meet the wolf he wish'd to shun.

Thus wretched I, through wanton will,
Run blind and headlong on in ill:
'T was thus from sin to sin I flew,
And thus I might have perish'd too;
But Mercy dropt the likeness here,
And show'd, and sav'd me from my fear.
While o'er the darkness of my mind
The sacred Spirit purely shin'd,
And mark'd and brighten'd all the way
Which leads to everlasting day;
And broke the thickening clouds of sin,
And fix'd the light of love within.

From hence my ravish'd soul aspires,
And dates the rise of its desires.
From hence to thee, my God! I turn,
And fervent wishes say I burn;

I burn, thy glorious face to see,
And live in endless joy with thee.

There's no such ardent kind of flame
Between the lover and the dame;
Nor such affection parents bear
To their young and only heir,
Though, join'd together, both conspire,
And boast a doubled force of fire,
My tender heart, within its seat,
Dissolves before the scorching heat,
As softening wax is taught to run
Before the warmness of the Sun.

Oh, my flame, my pleasing pain,
Burn and purify my stain,
Warm me, burn me, day by day,
Till you purge my earth away;
Till at the last I throughly shine,
And turn a torch of love divine.

A DESIRE TO PRAISE.
PROPITIOUS Son of God, to thee,
With all my soul, I bend my knee;
Wy wish I send, my want impart,
And dedicate my mind and heart:
For, as an absent parent's son,
Whose second year is only run,
When no protecting friend is near,
Void of wit, and void of fear,

With things that hurt him fondly plays,
Or here he falls, or there he strays;
So should my soul's eternal guide,
The sacred Spirit be deny'd,

Thy servant soon the loss would know,
And sink in sin, or run to woe.

O, Spirit bountifully kind,
Warm, possess, and fill my mind;
Disperse my sins with light divine,
And raise the flames of love with thine;
Before thy pleasures rightly priz'd,
Let wealth and honour be despis'd;
And let the Father's glory be
More dear than life itself to me.

Sing of Jesus! virgins, sing
Him, your everlasting King!
Sing of Jesus! cheerful youth,
Him, the God of love and truth!
Write, and raise a song divine,
Or come and hear, and borrow mine.
Son eternal, Word supreme,
Who made the universal frame,
Heaven, and all its shining show,
Earth, and all it holds below:

Bow with mercy, bow thine ear,
While we sing thy praises here;
Son Eternal, ever-bless'd,
Resting on the Father's breast,
Whose tender love for all provides,
Whose power over all presides;
Bow with pity, bow thine ear;
While we sing thy praises, hear!
Thou, by pity's soft extreme,
Mov'd, and won, and set on flame,
Assum'd the form of man, and fell
In pains, to rescue man from Hell;
How bright thine humble glories rise,
And match the lustre of the skies,
From Death and Hell's dejected state
Arising, thou resum'd thy seat,
And golden thrones of bliss prepar'd
Above, to be thy saints' reward.

How bright thy glorious honours rise, And with new lustre grace the skies! For thee, the sweet seraphic choir Raise the voice, and tune the lyre, And praises with harmonious sound Through all the highest Heaven rebound. O make our notes with theirs agree, And bless the souls that sing of thee! To thee the churches here rejoice, The solemn organs aid the voice: To sacred roofs the sound we raise, The sacred roofs resound thy praise: And while our notes in one agree, O! bless the church that sings to thee!

ON HAPPINESS IN THIS LIFE.

THE morning opens, very freshly gay,
And life itself is in the month of May.
With green my fancy paints an arbour o'er,
And flowerets with a thousand colours more;
Then falls to weaving that, and spreading these,
And softly shakes them with an easy breeze.
With golden fruit adorns the bending shade,
Or trails a silver water o'er its bed.
Glide, gentle water, still more gently by,
While in this summer-bower of bliss I lye,
And sweetly sing of sense-delighting flames,
And nymphs and shepherds, soft invented names;
Or view the branches which around me twine,
And praise their fruit, diffusing sprightly wine;
Or find new pleasures in the world to praise,
And still with this return adorn my lays;

Range round your gardens of eternal spring,
Go, range my senses, while I sweetly sing:"
In vain, in vain, alas! seduc'd by ill,
And acted wildly by the force of will!
I tell my soul, it will be constant May,
And charm a season never made to stay;
My beauteous arbour will not stand a storm,
The world but promises, and can't perform:
Then fade, ye leaves; and wither, all ye flowers;
I'll doat no longer in enchanted bowers;
But sadly mourn, in melancholy song,
The vain conceits that held my sout so long.
The lusts that tempt us with delusive show,
And sin brought forth for everlasting woe.
Thus shall the notes to sorrow's object rise,
While frequent rests procure a place for sighs;

And, as I moan upon the naked plain,
Be this the burthen closing every strain:
"Return, my senses; range no more abroad;
He'll only find his bliss who seeks for God."

EXTACY.

THE fleeting joys, which all affords below,
Work the fond heart with unperforming show;
The wish that makes our happier life complete,
Nor grasps the wealth nor honours of the great;
Nor loosely sails on Pleasure's easy stream,
Nor gathers wreaths from all the groves of Fame;
Weak man, whose charms to these alone confine,
Attend my prayer, and learn to make it thine.

From thy rich throne, where circling trains of

light

Make day that's endless, infinitely bright;
Thence, heavenly Father! thence with mercy dart
One beam of brightness to my longing heart.
Dawn through the mind, drive Errour's clouds away,
And still the rage in Passion's troubled sea;
That the poor banish'd soul, serene and free,
May rise from Earth, to visit Heaven and thee:
Come, Peace divine! shed gently from above,
Inspire my willing bosom, wondrous Love;
Thy purpled pinions to my shoulders tye,
And point the passage where I want to fly.

But whither, whither now! what powerful fire
With this bless'd influence equals my desire?
I rise (or Love, the kind deluder, reigns,
And acts in fancy such enchanted scenes);
Earth lessening flies, the parting skies retreat,
The fleecy clouds my waving feathers beat;
And now the Sun and now the stars are gone,
Yet still methinks the Spirit bears me on,
Where tracts of ether purer blue display,
And edge the golden realm of native day.

Oh, strange enjoyment of a bliss unseen!
Oh, ravishment! Oh, sacred rage within!
Tumultuous pleasure, rais'd on peace of mind,
Sincere, excessive, from the world refin'd!
I see the light that veils the throne on high,
A light unpierc'd by man's impurer eye;

I hear the words, that issuing thence proclaim,
"Let God's attendants praise his awful name!"
Then heads unnumber'd bend before the shrine,
Mysterious seat of Majesty divine!
And hands unnumber'd strike the silver string,
And tongues unnumber'd Hallelujah sing.
See, where the shining seraphims appear,
And sink their decent eyes with holy fear.
Sce flights of angels all their feathers raise,
And range the orbs, and, as they range, they praise;
Behold the great apostles! sweetly met,
And high on pearls of azure ether set.
Behold the prophets, full of heavenly fire,
With wandering finger wake the trembling lyre;
And hear the martyrs' tune, and all around
The church triumphant makes the region sound.
With harps of gold, with boughs of ever-green,
With robes of white, the pious throngs are seen;
Exalted anthems all their hours employ,
And all is music, and excess of joy.

Charm'd with the sight, I long to bear a part;
The pleasure Antters at my ravish'd heart.
Sweet saints and angels of the heavenly choir,
If love has warm'd you with celestial fire,