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Thy providence my life sustain'd,
And all my wants redress'd,
When in the silent womb I lay,

And hung upon the breast.

To all my weak complaints and cries
Thy mercy lent an ear,

Ere yet my feeble thoughts had learn'd
To form themselves in prayer.

Unnumber'd comforts to my soul
Thy tender care bestow'd,
Before my infant heart conceived
From whom those comforts flow'd.

When in the slippery paths of youth
With heedless steps I ran,

Thine arm, unseen, convey'd me safe,

And led me up to man.

Through hidden dangers, toils, and deaths,

It gently clear'd my way,

And through the pleasing snares of vice,

More to be fear'd than they.

When worn with sickness, oft hast thou
With health renew'd my face;

And when in sins and sorrow sunk,

Revived my soul with grace.

Thy bounteous hand with worldly bliss

Has made my cup run o'er, And in a kind and faithful friend Has doubled all my store.

Ten thousand thousand precious gifts
My daily thanks employ;

Nor is the least a cheerful heart,
That tastes those gifts with joy.

Through every period of my life
Thy goodness I'll pursue ;
And, after death, in distant worlds
The glorious theme renew.

When nature fails, and day and night

Divide thy works no more, My ever-grateful heart, O Lord!

Thy mercy shall adore.

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THE lofty pillars of the sky,

And spacious concave raised on high,
Spangled with stars, a shining frame,
Their great Original proclaim;
The unwearied sun, from day to day,
Pours knowledge on his golden ray,
And publishes to every land
The work of an Almighty hand.
Soon as the evening shades prevail,

The moon takes up the wondrous tale,
And nightly to the listening earth
Repeats the story of her birth:

Whilst all the stars that round her burn,
And all the planets in their turn,
Confirm the tidings as they roll,

And spread the truth from pole to pole.
What though in solemn silence all
Move round the dark terrestrial ball?
What though nor real voice nor sound
Amid their radiant orbs be found?
In reason's ear they all rejoice,
And utter forth a glorious voice,

For ever singing, as they shine,
"The band that made us is divine."



How short is life's uncertain's space!
Alas! how quickly done!

How swift the wild precarious chase!
And yet how difficult the race!
How very hard to run!

Youth stops at first its wilful ears

To wisdom's prudent voice; Till now arrived to riper years, Experienced Age, worn out with cares, Repents its earlier choice.

What though its prospects now appear
So pleasing and refined?

Yet groundless hope, and anxious fear,
By turns the busy moments share,
And prey upon the mind.

Since then false joys our fancy cheat

With hopes of real bliss;

Ye guardian powers, that rule my fate,

The only wish that I create,

Is all comprised in this :

May I, through life's uncertain tide,
Be still from pain exempt;

May all my wants be still supplied,

My state too low to admit of pride,
And yet above contempt.

But should your providence divine
A greater bliss intend;

May all those blessings you design,
(If e'er those blessings shall be mine)
Be centred in a friend.




QUEEN of the silver bow!-by thy pale beam,
Alone and pensive, I delight to stray,

And watch thy shadow trembling in the stream,
Or mark the floating clouds that cross thy way.
And while I gaze, thy mild and placid light
Sheds a soft calm upon my troubled breast;
And oft I think,-fair planet of the night,

That in thy orb the wretched may have rest :

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