LI.

PRAISE.

HE firft-born rofe of vernal prime,
That opes its bofom rare,

In gentle fighs of fragrant breath
Doth make its morning prayer.

The Summer bird, on raptured wing,
That cleaves the vaulted sky,
Doth to the great Creator pour
Its gufhing minstrelfy.

Rich Autumn, with her fruitful hoard,
Her harvests ripening fair;
The golden fheaf, and loaded wain,
Doth praise the Giver's care.

Each Winter, in its Sabbath reft,
Adores the King of Might;

And every fnow-flake fpeaks of Him,
Who robes the earth in white.

Thou art His fervant, O my foul,
By birth, by choice, by vow;
By bounties of each rolling year
Prove thine allegiance now.

Yea, prove it as each paffing day
Unfolds its pinions fleet,

By deeds of love, by thoughts of prayer,
By ftrains of worship sweet.

Make this brief life a fong of praise,
Where'er thy lot may be ;

And learn the language here below
Of Heaven's eternity.

MRS. SIGOURNEY.

LII.

HOLY SCRIPTURE.

ON cottager, who weaves at her own
door,

Pillow and bobbins all her little ftore,-
Content though mean, and cheerful if

not gay,

Shuffling her threads about the live-long day,-
Juft earns a fcanty pittance, and at night,
Lies down fecure, her heart and pocket light;
She, for her humble sphere by nature fit,
Has little understanding and no wit
Receives no praise; but though her lot be such
(Toilfome and indigent) fhe renders much;
Juft knows, and knows no more, her Bible true-
A truth the brilliant Frenchman never knew ;
And in that Charter reads with sparkling eyes,
Her title to a treasure in the skies.

O happy peafant! O unhappy bard!

His the mere tinfel, hers the rich reward;
He praised perhaps for ages yet to come-
She never heard of half a mile from home-
He, loft in errors his vain heart prefers,
She, fafe in the fimplicity of hers.

COWPER.

LIII.

HOLY SCRIPTURE.

HE Spirit breathes upon the Word,
And brings the truth to fight;
Precepts and promises afford
A fanctifying light.

A glory gilds the facred page,
Majestic like the fun;
It gives a light to every age,
It gives, but borrows none.

The hand that gave it ftill fupplies
The gracious light and heat;
His truths upon the nations rife,
They rife, but never fet.

Let everlasting thanks be thine
For fuch a bright display,

As makes a world of darkness shine
With beams of heavenly day.

My foul rejoices to pursue,

The fteps of Him I love,

Till glory breaks upon my view

In brighter worlds above.

COWPER.

LIV.

HOLY SCRIPTURE.

JERE is the fpring whence waters flow,
To quench our heat of fin;

Here is the tree, where truth doth

grow,

To lead our lives therein.

Here is the Judge that ftints the ftrife,

When men's devices fail;

Here is the bread, that feeds the life,
Which death cannot affail.

The tidings of falvation dear,
Come to our ears from hence;
The fortrefs of our faith is here,
And fhield of our defence.

Then be not like the Hog, that hath
A pearl at his defire;

Yet takes more pleasure in the trough,
And wallowing in the mire.

Read not this book in any cafe,

But with a fingle eye;

Read not, but firft defire God's grace

To understand thereby.

Stay ftill in faith, with this refpect,

To fructify therein;

That knowledge may bring this effect,
To mortify thy fin.

Then happy thou, in all thy life,
What fo to thee befalls;

Yea, doubly happy fhalt thou be,
When God, by death, thee calls.*

A

LV.

THE REDEEMER.

ND who is He? the vaft, the awful form,

Girt with the whirlwind, fandal'd with the storm;

A western cloud around His limbs is

fpread,

His crown a rainbow, and a fun His head.
To highest Heaven He lifts His kingly hand,
And treads at once the ocean and the land;
And hark! His voice amid the thunder's roar,
His dreadful voice, that time shall be no more!

Lo! cherub hands the golden courts prepare ;
Lo! thrones arise, and every faint is there;
Earth's utmost bounds confess their awful sway,
The mountains worship, and the ifles obey!
Nor fun, nor moon, they need, nor day, nor
night,-

God is their temple, and the Lamb their light;

* These lines are to be found in the "Bishop's Bible" of 1568.