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XL.

PRAISE.

HROUGH all eternity to Thee,

A joyful fong I'll raise ;
But oh, eternity's too short
To utter all Thy praife!

ADDISON.

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XLI.

PRAISE.

JHEN shall I offer up, o beautiful and

bright,
Even in the bofom of Thy light,

My canticle of praise to Thee?

And ever praying for Thy fake, My burning thirst for ever Nake From Thy fount of purity.

CANTIQUES SPIRITUELS, A.D. 1694.

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Resurrection. Greatness.

229

XLII.

RESURRECTION.

ONTEMPLATE, when the sun declines,

Thy death with deep reflection-
But when again he rising shines,
The day of resurrection.

COWPER.

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XLIII.

GREATNESS.

HOU haft left behind
Powers that will work for Thee-Earth

air, and skies;
There's not a breathing of the common

wind That will forget Thee-Thou hast great allies-Thy friends are exultations, agonies, And love, and man's unconquerable mind.

WORDSWORTH.

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XLIV.

MERCY.

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HE quality of Mercy is not strain'd,
It droppeth, as the gentle rain from

Heaven
Upon the place beneath; it is twice

blessed;
It blesseth him that gives, and him that takes;
'Tis mightiest in the mightiest; it becomes
The throned monarch better than his crown :
His sceptre shows the force of temporal power,
The attribute to awe and majesty,
Wherein doth fit the dread and fear of kings ;
But mercy is above this sceptred sway,
It is enthroned in the hearts of kings,
It is an attribute to God Himself;
An earthly power doth then show likest God's,
When Mercy seasons Justice.

SHAKESPEARE.

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XLV.

HUMILITY.

H, I would walk

A weary journey—to the furtheft verge
Of the big world, to see that good man's

form,
Who, in the blaze of wisdom and of

art,
Preserves a lowly mind, and to his God,
Feeling the sense of his own littleness,
Is as a child in meek fimplicity.

Kirke WHITE.

XLVI.

MEMORY.

ER charm around, the enchantress, Me.

mory, threw,A charm that soothes the mind, and

sweetens too!

But is her magic only felt below? Say through what brighter realms fhe bids it flow! There thy bright train, immortal Friendship, foar, No more to part, to mingle tears no more ! And as the softening hand of Time endears The joys and sorrows of our infant years,

So there the soul, released from human ftrife,
Smiles at the little cares and ills of life,
Its lights and shades, its sunshines and its showers,
As at a dream that charmed her vacant hours!

ROGERS.

XLVII.

ART.

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OME, bright Improvement, in the car

of Time, And rule the spacious world from clime

to clime.
Thy handmaid, Art, shall every wild

explore,
Trace every wave, and culture ev'ry shore.
On Erie's banks, where tigers steal along,
And the dread Indian chaunts a dismal song, —
Where human fiends on midnight errands walk,
And bathe in brains the murderous tomahawk,
There shall the flock on thymy pastures stray,
And shepherds dance at summer's opening day.
Each wandering genius of the lonely glen
Shall start to view the glittering haunts of men,
And silence mark on woodland heights around
The village curfew, as it tolls profound.

CAMPBELL.

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