Soon as grey ev'ning gilds the plain, Thou, moon, protract the melting strain, And praise Him in the fhade.

V.

Thou, heav'n of heav'ns, His vaft abode;
Ye clouds, proclaim your forming God,
Who called yon worlds from night:
"Ye fhades, difpel!" th' Eternal faid;
At once th' involving darkness fled,
And nature sprung to light.

VI.

Whate'er a blooming world contains, That wings the air, that skims the plains, United praise bestow.

Ye dragons, found His awful name

To heav'n aloud; and roar acclaim,
Ye fwelling deeps below.

VII.

Let ev'ry element rejoice:

Ye thunders, burft with awful voice
To Him who bids you roll:
His praise in softer notes declare,
Each whispering breeze of yielding air,
And breathe it to the foul.

VIII.

To Him, ye graceful cedars, bow;
Ye tow'ring mountains, bending low,
Your great Creator own;

Tell, when affrighted nature shook,
How Sinai kindled at His look,

And trembled at His frown.

IX.

Ye flocks, that haunt the humble vale,
Ye infects, fluttering on the gale,
In mutual concourse rise;
Crop the gay rofe's vermeil bloom,
And waft its fpoils, a fweet perfume,
In incenfe to the skies.

X.

Wake, all ye mountain tribes, and fing;
Ye plumy warblers of the spring,
Harmonious anthems raise

To Him who shaped your finer mould,
Who tipped your glittering wings with gold,
And tuned your voice to praise.

XI.

Let man, by nobler paffion fwayed,
The feeling heart, the judging head,

In heavenly praise employ ;

Spread His tremendous name around,

Till heaven's broad arch brings back the found,

The gen'ral burst of joy.

XII.

Ye, whom the charms of grandeur please,

Nurf'd on the downy lap of ease,

Fall proftrate at His throne ;

Ye princes, rulers, all adore;

Praise Him, ye kings, who makes your power An image of His own.

XIII.

Ye fair, by nature formed to move,
O praise th' eternal fource of love
With youth's enlivening fire;
Let age take up the tuneful lay,

Sigh His bleffed name-then foar away,
And ask an angel's lyre.

OGILVIE.

Ye fearful faints, fresh courage take,
The clouds ye fo much dread
Are big with mercy, and fhall break
In bleffings on your head.

Judge not the Lord by feeble fenfe,
But truft Him for His grace:
Behind a frowning Providence
He hides a fmiling face.

GOD THE FATHER.

H Father of Heaven! look down from above,

Illumine my paths by the light of Thy love,

That fleeping or waking, by night or by day,

My footsteps may ever be found in Thy way.

When the world's bright allurements before me are fhining,

And to follow their courfe my fond heart is inclining-
Oh make me remember how small is their worth,
How empty and vain are the pleasures of earth!

When paffions within their wild warfare are waging,
And finful temptations my mind are engaging,
Be Thy arm my fupport, and if virtue fhould fhrink,
Uphold the weak nature, which haply might fink.