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In our own freagth unhappily fecure,
Tore cautious of the adverfe pow'r;
A by the blast of felf-opinion mov'd,
Wew to charm, and feek to be belov'd.
Ore's flow'ry brink we idly stray,
kers as yet of our returning way:
Seeing no danger, we difarm our mind,
And ive cur conduct to the waves and wind:
Toea in the now'ry mead, or verdant shade,
To war dalliance negligently laid,
We wave the chaplet, and we crown the bowl,
Age the nearer waters roll:
In the org guits of raging paffion rife,

the dire tempeft mingles earth and fkies;
And fit into the boundiefs ocean borne,
Car for confidence too late we mourn:
Round our devoted heads the billows beat;
And from our troubled view the leffend lands

retreat.

59-A Paraphraje on the latter Part of the Sixth

Chapter of St. Matthew. Thomfon.
W-Emy breat labours with oppreffive care,
And my cheek defcends the falling tear;
We are warring pailions are at ftrife,

Chet me to the words of life!
Rares deep felt his doctrine did impart,

arte rad from earth the droopingheart:
Think not when all your fcanty ftores afford
Is mad at once upon the fparing board;
Tact, when worn the homely robe appears,
The on the roof the howling tempest bears;
her hall this feeble life fuftain,
clothe thefe thiv ring limbs again.
State its nourishment exceed?
As the body its investing weed?
Bad away your low despair-
See the ght tenants of the barren air:
I them or tores nor granaries belong,
Ngt but the woodland and the pleafing fong;
Yet your kind heav'nly Father bends his eye
Ga the eat wing that fits along the sky.
They fing when fpring renews the plain,
Tobey cry in winter's pinching reign;

their mufic or their plaint in vain; Bees the gay and the diftrefsful call, Avra untparing bounty fills them all.

the rifing lily's fnowy grace,
Ce the various vegetable race;
The her toil nor ipin, but careless grow,
now warn they blush! how bright they
glow!

Wiseftments can with them compare?
Wang hining, or what queen fo fair?

Bakes thus the fowls of heav'n he feeds,
Forfelds fuch lucid robes he fpreads,
Waltre care for you, ye faithless, say?

> or are ye lefs than they?"

60. SONGS of Praife. Watts.
Agral Song of Praije to God.
How glo ious is our heav'nly King,
Who reigns above the sky!

How fhall a child presume to fing

His dreadful Majesty!

How great his pow'r is, none can tell,
Nor think how large his grace;
Not men below, nor faints that dwell
On high before his face.

Not angels, that stand round the Lord,
Can fearch his fecret will;
But they perform his heav'nly word,
And fing his praises still.
Then let me join this holy train,
And my first off rings bring;
Th' eternal God will not difdain
To hear an infant fing.
My heart refolves, my tongue obeys;
And angels fhall rejoice
To hear their mighty Maker's praife
Sound from a feeble voice.

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fing the wifdom that ordain'd
The fun to rule the day;

The moon fhines full at his command,
And all the stars obey.

I

fing the goodness of the Lord,

That fill'd the earth with food;
He form'd the creatures with his word,
And then pronounc'd them good.
Lord, how thy wonders are display'd,
Where'er I turn mine eye!

If I furvey the ground I tread,
Or gaze upon the sky;
There's not a plant or flow'r below
But makes thy glories known;
And clouds arife, and tempefts blow,
By order from thy throne.
Creatures (as num'rous as they be)
Are fubject to thy care;
There's not a place where we can flee,
But God is present there.
In heav'n he fhines with beams of love,
With wrath in hell beneath!
'Tis on his earth I ftand or move,

And 'tis his air I breathe.

His hand is my perpetual guard,
He keeps me with his eye:
Why fhould I then forget the Lord,
Who is for ever nigh?

Praife to God for our Redemption.
BLEST be the wisdom and the pow'r,
The justice and the grace,
That join'd in counsel to restore

And fave our ruin'd race!

Our father ate forbidden fruit,
And from his glory fell;

And we his children thus were brought
To death, and near to hell.

Bleft

Bleft be the Lord that fent his Son
To take our flesh and blood!
He for our lives gave up his own
To make our peace with God.
He honour'd all his Father's laws,
Which we have disobey'd;
He bore our fins upon the cross,
And our full ranfom paid.
Behold him rifing from the grave;

Behold him rais'd on high:
He pleads his merit there, to fave
Tranfgreffors doom'd to die.

There on a glorious throne he reigns,
And by his pow'r divine
Redeems us from the flavish chains
Of Satan and of fin.

Thence shall the Lord to judgment come,
And with a fov'reign voice
Shall call and break up ev'ry tomb,
While waking faints rejoice.

O may I then with joy appear
Before the Judge's face!
And, with the blefs'd affembly there,
Sing his redeeming grace!

Praise for Mercies Spiritual and Temporal.
WHENEVER I take my walks abroad,
How many poor I fee!
What shall I render to my God
For all his gifts to me!

Not more than others I deserve,
Yet God has given me more;
For I have food while others starve,
Or beg from door to door.
How many children in the street
Half naked I behold!

While I am cloth'd from head to feet,
And cover'd from the cold!

While fome poor wretches fcarce can tell
Where they may lay their head,
I have a home wherein to dwell,

And rest upon my bed.

While others early learn to fwear,
And curfe, and lie, and fteal,

Lord, I am taught thy name to fear,
And do thy holy will.

Are these thy favours, day by day,
To me above the rest?

Then let me love thee more than they,
And try to serve thee beft.

Praise for Birth and Education in a Chriftian Land.
GREAT GOD! to thee my voice I raise,
To thee my youngest hours belong;
I would begin my life with praife,
Till growing years improve the fong.
'Tis to thy fov'reign grace I owe
That I was born on British ground;
Where streams of heav'nly mercy flow,
And words of fweet falvation found.

6

I would not change my native land
For rich Peru, with all her gold;
A nobler prize lies in my hand
Than Eaft or Weftern Indies hold.
How do I pity thofe that dwell
Where ignorance or darkness reigns!
They know no heav'n, they fear no hell,
Thofe enlefs joys, thofe endless pains.
Thy glorious promifes, O Lord,
Kindle my hopes and my defire;
While all the preachers of thy word
Warn me to 'fcape eternal fire.

Thy praife fhall ftill employ my breath,
Since thou haft mark'd my way to heav'n;
Nor will I run the road to death,
And waste the bleffings thou haft giv`n.
Praise for the Gospel.

LORD, I afcribe it to thy grace,
And not to chance, as others do,
That I was born of Christian race,
And not a Heathen or a Jew.

What would the ancient Jewish kings
And Jewish prophets once have giv'n,
Could they have heard thofe glorious things
Which Chrift reveal'd and brought from heav'
How glad the Heathens would have been,
That worship'd idols, wood and ftone,
If they the book of God had feen,
Or Jefus and his Gospel known!
Then, if this Gospel I refufe,
How thall I e'er lift up mine eyes!
For all the Gentiles and the Jews
Against me will in judgment rife.

Praife to God for learning to Read.

THE praifes of my tongue

I offer to the Lord,

That I was taught, and learnt so young,
To read his holy word.

That I am brought to know
The danger I was in;
By nature, and by practice too,
A wretched flave to fin.

That I am led to fee

I can do nothing well;
And whither fhail a finner flee
To fave himfelf from hell?
Dear Lord, this book of thine
Informs me where to go
For grace to pardon all my fin,
And make me holy too.

Here I can read and learn,

How Chrift, the Son of God,
Did undertake our great concern ;
Our ransom coft his blood.
And now he reigns above,

He fends his Spirit down,
To thew the wonders of his love,
And make his gospel known.

O inay

O may the Spirit teach,
And make my heart receive

The truths, which all thy fervants preach,
And all thy faints believe.

Then thall I praife the Lord,

In a more cheerful ftrain,

That I was tanght to read his word,

And have not learnt in vain.

§ 61. The Excellency of the Bible demonftrated.

Watts.

GREAT God, with wonder and with praise On ai by works I look; Barthy wildom, pow'r, and grace, Seine brighteft in thy book. The rar, that in their courses roll, Have och inftruction given; Batty good word informs my foul How I may climb to heav'n. The fields provide me food, and shew The goodness of the Lord; Bs a life and glory grow La tay mod holy word. Here are choiceft treasures hid, Here yet comfort lies: Here yes are fatisfied, Andere my hopes arise. Lent, make me understand thy law, Sewwhat my faults have been; And from thy gospel let me draw Pardon for all my fin.

Here would I learn how Chrift has died

Tove my foul from hell:

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the books on earth befide

Such havaly wonders tell.

Then at neve my Bible more,

And take a fresh delight

By day to read thefe wonders o'er,

And meditate by night.

§ 62. The All-feeing God.

ALTY God, thy piercing eye,

thro' the fhades of night,

Aer moft fecret actions lie

Apen to thy fight:

Te not a fin that we

No wicked word we

commit,

fay,

By dreadful book 'tis writ,

Agathe judgment day.

Watts.

of the crimes that I have done Bed and publifh'd there? Bo'd before the Sun, Wen and angels hear? Le foot afham'd I lie; C dare not look: Parafins before I die, At them from thy book. Remember all the dying pains That my Redeemer felt;

Ander his blood wash out my stains, And aufwer for my guilt.

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THERE is a God that reigns above,
Lord of the heav'ns, and earth, and feas:
I fear his wrath, I afk his love,
And with my lips I fing his praise.
There is a law which he has writ,
To teach us all what we must do:
My foul, to his commands fubmit,
For they are holy, just, and true.
There is a gofpel of rich grace,
Whence finners all their comforts draw:
Lord, I repent, and feek thy face,
For I have often broke thy law.
There is an hour when I must die;
No do I know how foon 'twill come;
A thoufand children, young as I,
Are call'd by death to hear their doom.
Let me improve the hours I have,
Before the day of grace is fied;
There's no repentance in the grave,
Nor pardons offer'd to the dead.
Just as the tree, cut down, that fell
To north or fouthward, there it lies:
So man departs to heav'n or hell,
Fix'd in the state wherein he dies.

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'Tis easier work, if we begin

To fear the Lord betimes; While finners that grow old in fin

Are harden'd in their crimes.

Twill fave us from a thousand fnares,

To mind religion young,

Grace will preferve our following years,
And make our virtue strong.
To thee, Almighty God, to thee,
Our childhood we refign;
'Twill please us to look back and fee

That our whole lives were thine.

Let the sweet work of pray'r and praise
Employ my youngest breath;
Thus I'm prepar'd for longer days,
Or fit for early death.

Watts.

$66. The Danger of Delay.
WHY fhould I fay, ""Tis yet too foon
"To feek for Heav'n, or think of death?"
A flow'r may fade before 'tis noon,
And I this day may lose my breath.
If this rebellious heart of mine
Defpife the gracious calls of Heaven,
I may be harden'd in my fin,
And never have repentance given.

What if the Lord grow wroth, and swear,
While I refufe to read and pray,
That he'll refufe to lend an ear
To all my groans another day!
What if his dreadful anger burn,
While I refuse his offer'd grace,
And all his love to fury turn,
And strike me dead upon the place!
'Tis dangerous to provoke a God!
His pow'r and vengeance none can tell:
One ftroke of his almighty rod
Shall send young finners quick to hell.
Then 'twill for ever be in vain
To cry for pardon and for grace;
To with I had my time again,
Or hope to fee my Maker's face!

67. Examples of early Piety. Watts.
WHAT blefs'd examples do I find
Writ in the word of truth,
Of children that began to mind
Religion in their youth'
Jefus, who reigns above the sky,
And keeps the world in awe,
Was once a child as young as I,
And kept his Father's law.

At twelve years old he talk'd with men,
(The Jews all wond'ring stand)
Yet he obey'd his mother then,
And came at her command.

Children a sweet hofanna fung,

And blefs'd their Saviour's name! They gave him honour with their tongue, While fcribes and priefts blafpheme.

Samuel the child was wean'd, and brough

To wait upon the Lord;

Young Timothy betimes was taught
To know his holy word.

Then why fhould I fo long delay
What others learn fo foon?
I would not pafs another day
Without this work begun.

§ 68. Against Lying. Watts.
O'TIS a lovely thing for youth
To walk betimes in wifdom's way;
To fear a lie, to speak the truth,
That we may trust to all they say.
But liars we can never truft,

Tho' they should speak the thing that 's ti
And he that does one fault at first,

And lies to hide it, makes it two.

Have we not known, nor heard, nor read,
How God abhors deceit and wrong?
How Ananias was ftruck dead,
Caught with a lie upon his tongue,
So did his wife Sapphira die,
When the came in, and grew fo bold
As to confirm that wicked lie
That just before her husband told.
The Lord delights in them that speak
The words of truth; but ev'ry liar
Muft have his portion in the lake

That burns with brimstone and with fire.
Then let me always watch my lips,
Left I be ftruck to death and hell,
Since God a book of reck'ning keeps
For ev'ry lie that children tell.

§ 69. Again Quarrelling and Fighting. Wa
LET dogs delight to bark and bite,
For God hath made them fo;
Let bears and lions growl and fight,
For 'tis their nature too:

But children, you should never let
Such angry paffions rise;

Your little hands were never made
To tear each others eyes.

Let love through all your actions run
And all your words be mild;
Live like the blessed Virgin's Son,
That sweet and lovely Child.

His foul was gentle as a lamb:
And, as his flature grew,
He grew in favour both with man,
And God his Father too.

Now, Lord of all, he reigns above;

And from his heav'nly throne
He fees what children dwell in love
And marks them for his own.

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Mard names at firft, and threat'ning words,
The are but noify breath,

May grow to clubs and naked fwords,
To murder and to death.

The devil tempts one mother's fon
To rage against another;
So wicked Cain was hurried on

The had kill'd his brother.
The wife will make their anger cool,

At least before 'tis night;
But in the boom of a fool
Ibars till morning-light.

Pardon, O Lord, our childish rage,

Our te brawls remove; That, as we go to riper age, Our hearts may all be love.

§ 71. Again Scoffing and calling Names.

Watts.

Cratorgues were made to blefs the Lord,

And not fpeak ill of men;

When others give a railing
We must not rail again.

word,

Cr words and angry names require

To be chaffi'd at fchool;
And he's in danger of hell-fire
Text calls his brother Fool.

But ips that care be fo profane,
Toock and jeer and fcoff
At buy things or holy men,
The Lord thall cut them off.
When children in their wanton play
Sold Elitha fo;

And had the prophet go his way,

Gap, thou bald-head go!"

Gckly topp'd their wicked breath,
At two raging bears,
Tore them limb from limb to death,
Wood, and groans, and tears.
Gaz God, how terrible art thou
Taze e'er fo young!

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grace,
my tongue!

and teach me how

And yet how wicked children dare
Abufe thy dreadful glorious name!
And, when they 're angry, how they fwear,
And curfe their fellows, and blaspheme!

How will they ftand before thy face,
Who treated thee with fuch difdain,
While thou shalt doom them to the place
Of everlasting fire and pain!..

Then never fhall one cooling drop

To quench their burning tongues be given;
But I will praise thee here, and hope
Thus to employ my tongue in heaven.

My heart fhall be in pain to hear
Wretches affront the Lord above;
Tis that great God whofe pow'r I fear,
That heav'nly Father whom I love.
If my companions grow profane,
I'll leave their friendship when I hear.
Young finners take thy name in vain,
And learn to curfe, and learn to swear.

73. Against Idleness and Mifchief. Watts How doth the little busy bee

Improve each fhining hour, And gather honey all the day

From ev'ry op'ning flow'r: --
How fkilfully fhe builds her cell!

How neats the spreads the wax !
And labours hard to store it well
With the fweet food the makes.
In works of labour, or of skill,
I would be busy too;

174 Savearing and Curfing, and taking

Gal Name in vain. Watts.
Astra, that high in glory dwell,
Ade thy name, Almighty God!
And devils tremble, down in hell,
Bach the terrors of thy rod.

For Satan finds fome mischief still
For idle hands to do.

In books, or work, or healthful play,
Let my first years be past,
That I may give for ev'ry day
Some good account at last.

§ 74. Againft Evil Company. Watts.
WHY should I join with those in play
In whom I 've no delight;
Who curfe and fwear, but never pray;
Who call ill names, and fight?

I hate to hear a wanton fong,
Their words offend mine ears;
I fhould not dare defile my tongue
With language fuch as theirs.

Away from fools I'll turn mine eyes,
Nor with the fcoffers

I would be walking with the wife,

That wiser I may grow.

From one rude boy that's us'd to mock,
They learn the wicked jeft:

One fickly fheep infects the flock,
And poisons all the rest.

My

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