Awake my soul, your hallelujahs sing
To your omnipotent, your new born king,
Assist ye ev'ry power the lofty theme,
To sound incessant his almighty name,
Let heaven and earth revere the joyous morn,
Whereon the Saviour of the World was born,
Angels and Seraphs spread hosanna's round,
Ye rolling spheres return the blissful sound:
To conquer sin and break its stubborn chain,
The Son of God becomes the son of man.
Man (doom'd to miseries thro Adams fall)
He came to save and to redeem us all,
Thy sacred limbs were in a manger laid,
While by thy side, an ox, and ass, were fed,
Lord of the world! thou there didst deign to lie,
To teach weak mortals thy humility.
Almighty Jesus I with bended knee,
My daily thanks and praise do offer thee,
Light on my mind the lamp of heav'nly grace,
For ever guide me in the paths of peace,
That when this earthly frame returns to clay,
My soul may fly where reigns eternal day.
_British Mag 1747._
_London, Published by R. Miller, Old Fish Street, Doctors Commons._
------------------------------------------------------------------------
N^o. 10.
[Illustration]
NEW YEAR'S DAY.
Newton.
While with ceaseless course the sun
Hasted thro' the former year,
Many souls their race have run,
Never more to meet us here:
Fixt in an eternal state,
They have done with all below,
We a little longer wait,
But how little--none can know.
As the winged arrow flies,
Speedily the mark to find;
As the lightning from the skies
Darts, and leaves no trace behind:
Swiftly thus our fleeting days
Bear us down life's rapid stream;
Upwards, Lord, our spirits raise,
All below is but a dream.
Thanks for mercies past receive,
Pardon of our sins renew;
Teach us henceforth, how to live
With eternity in view:
Bless thy word to young and old,
Fill us with a Saviour's love;
And when life's short tale is told,
May we dwell with thee above.
_London, Published by R. Miller, Old Fish Street, Doctors Commons._
------------------------------------------------------------------------
N^o. 11.
[Illustration]
WINTER'S NIGHT.
Cowper.
Poor yet industrious, modest, quiet, neat,
Such claim compassion in a night like this,
And have a friend in ev'ry feeling heart.
Warm'd, while it lasts, by labour, all day long
They brave the season, and yet find at eve,
Ill clad, and fed but sparely, time to cool.
The frugal housewife trembles when she lights
Her scanty stock of brushwood, blazing clear,
But dying soon, like all terrestrial joys.
The few small embers left she nurses well;
And, while her infant race, with outspread hands,
And crowded knees, sit cow'ring oer the sparks,
Retires, content to quake, so they be warm'd.
The man feels least, as more inur'd than she
To winter, and the current in his veins
More briskly mov'd by his severer toil;
Yet he too finds his own distress in theirs.
The taper soon extinguished, which I saw
Dangling along at the cold finger's end
Just when the day declin'd; and the brown loaf
Lodg'd on the shelf, half eaten without sauce
Of savory cheese, or butter, costlier still;
Sleep seems their only refuge: for alas,
Where penury is felt the thought is chain'd,
And sweet colloquial pleasures are but few!
They live, and live without extorted alms
From grudging hands; but other boast have none,
To soothe their honest pride, that scorns to beg,
Nor comfort else, but in their mutual love.
_London, Published by R. Miller, Old Fish Street, Doctors Commons._
------------------------------------------------------------------------
N^o. 12.
[Illustration]
On Providence
Thomson.
Think not, when all your scanty stores afford,
Is spread at once upon the sparing board;
Think not, when worn the homely robe appears,
While on the roof the howling tempest bears;
What further shall this feeble life sustain
And what shall clothe these shiv'ring limbs again.
Say, does not life its nourishment exceed?
And the fair body its investing weed?
Behold! and look away your low despair,
See the light tenants of the barren air:
To them nor stores, nor granaries belong,
Nought but the woodland, and the pleasing song;
Yet your kind heav'nly Father bends his eye
On the least wing that flits along the sky.
To him, they sing when Spring renews the plain;
To him, they cry in Winter's pinching reign;
Nor is their music, nor their plaint in vain:
He hears the gay, and the distressful call,
And with unsparing bounty fills them all.
Observe the rising lily's snowy grace;
Observe the various vegetable race;
They neither toil, nor spin, but careless grow;
Yet see how warm they blush, how bright they glow!
What regal vestments can with them compare!
What King so shining, or what queen so fair!
If ceaseless thus the fowls of heav'n he feeds,
If o'er the fields such lucid robes he spreads;
will he not care for you, ye faithless say!
Is he unwise? or are ye less than they?
_London, Published by R. Miller, Old Fish Street, Doctors Commons._
------------------------------------------------------------------------
N^o. 13.
[Illustration]
THE PRODIGAL.
Watts.
Behold the wretch whose lust and wine
Had wasted his estate,
He begs a share among the swine,
To taste the husks they eat.
I die with hunger here (he cries)
I starve in foreign lands;
My father's house has large supplies,
And bounteous are his hands.
I'll go, and with a mournful tongue
Fall down before his face;
Father, I've done thy justice wrong,
Nor can deserve thy grace.
He said, and hasten'd to his home,
To seek his father's love;
The father saw the rebel come,
And all his bowels move.
He ran, and fell upon his neck,
Embrac'd and kiss'd his son.
The rebels heart with sorrow brake,
For follies he had done.
Take off his clothes of shame and sin,
(The father gives command)
Dress him in garments white and clean,
With rings adorn his hand.
A day of feasting I ordain,
Let mirth and joy abound;
My son was dead, and lives again,
Was lost, and now is found.
_London, Published by R. Miller, Old Fish Street, Doctors Commons._
------------------------------------------------------------------------
N^o. 14.
[Illustration]
THE DEATH
_of the_
RIGHTEOUS.
Blair.
------------------------Sure the last end
Of the good man is peace. How calm his exit!
Night-dews fall not more gently on the ground,
Nor weary worn-out winds expire so soft.
By unperceiv'd degrees he wears away;
Yet, like the sun, seems larger at the setting!
High in his faith and hopes, look how he reaches
After the prize in view! and, like a bird
That's hamper'd, struggles hard to get away!
Whilst the glad gates of sight are wide expanded
To let new glories in, the first fair fruits
Of the fast-coming Harvest! Then! oh then!
Each earth-born joy grows vile, or disappears,
Shrunk to a thing of nought. O how he longs
To have his passport sign'd, and be dismiss'd!
'Tis done, and now he's happy.
_London, Published by R. Miller, Old Fish Street, Doctors Commons._
------------------------------------------------------------------------
N^o. 15.
[Illustration]
DAVID AND GOLIATH
Fellows.
Let no man dread, the youth began,
This haughty monster of a man;
That dares all Israel's host defy,
His time is come, his end is nigh!
And, trusting in Jehovah's might,
Myself will undertake the flight--
Thou hast not strength, the monarch cries,
Against this man of war to rise!
Unus'd to arms, unknown to war.
Thy bleating flocks have been thy care;
But he in camps his life hath led,
To all the toils of battle bred;
Beside his strength:--The youth rejoins,
Jehovah's pow'r the brighter shines
When great designs his spirit breeds,
And infants dare immortal deeds.
The track of war I never trod.
But still have felt th' inspiring God
For when I watch'd my fleecy care,
I slew a lion and a bear,
Which did my fenceless fold invade,
And in the dust the monsters laid.
'Twas Israel's God that deign'd to bless
My youthful arm with such success.
Like one of these the wretch shall bleed,
And wond'ring armies mark the deed--
The monarch hears with glad surprize,
And to the youth in rapture cries,
Then go to meet him void of fear,
And may thy God indeed be there!
_London, Published by R. Miller, Old Fish Street, Doctors Commons._
------------------------------------------------------------------------
N^o. 16.
[Illustration]
_Against_
PRIDE _of_ BEAUTY.
D^r. Collyer.
Behold the blushing rose
Her lovely tints display,
The queen of ev'ry flow'r that blows
Beneath the eye of day!
Yon lily of the vale,
Scarce peeping thro' the green,
That folds around her bosom pale,
Aspires not to be seen.
The same Almighty hand
That decks with gems the skies,
Makes the Fly's painted wings expand,
And the gay tulip rise.
When tempests threaten loud,
His rays of light he pours,
And forms the rainbow in the cloud,
Dissolving soon in show'rs!
And shall a child be vain,
Less than the lily fair?
Can I so soft a tint obtain,
Or with the rose compare?
The beauty of the mind
Let me then learn to prize,
Nor boast of features far beneath
The pride of flow'rs and flies!
If I am not as fair,
I am as frail as they.
To honour God be all my care,
And that without delay.
_London, Published by R. Miller, Old Fish Street, Doctors Commons._
------------------------------------------------------------------------
N^o. 17.
[Illustration]
_The_
VILLAGE PREACHER
Goldsmith.
Near yonder copse, where once the garden smil'd,
And still where many a garden flow'r grows wild,
There, where a few torn shrubs the place disclose,
The village preacher's modest mansion rose.
A man he was to all the country dear,
And passing rich with forty pounds a year;
Remote from towns he ran his godly race,
Nor e'er had chang'd, nor wish'd to change his place;
Unskilful he to fawn, or seek for pow'r,
By doctrines fashioned to the varying hour;
Far other aims his heart had learn'd to prize,
More bent to raise the wretched than to rise.
Beside the bed, where parting life was laid,
And sorrow, guilt, and pain, by turns dismay'd,
The rev'rend champion stood. At his controul
Despair and anguish fled the struggling soul;
Comfort came down the trembling wretch to raise,
And his last falt'ring accents whisper'd praise.
At church with meek and unaffected grace,
His looks adorn'd the venerable place;
Truth from his lips prevail'd with double sway;
And fools, who came to scoff, remain'd to pray.
The service past, around the pious man,
With ready zeal, each honest rustic ran;
Ev'n children follow'd with endearing wile,
And pluck'd his gown, to share the good man's smile,
His ready smile a parents warmth express'd,
Their welfare pleas'd him, and their care distress'd;
To them his heart, his love, his griefs were giv'n,
But all his serious thoughts had rest in heav'n.
_London, Published by R. Miller, Old Fish Street, Doctors Commons._
------------------------------------------------------------------------
N^o. 18.
[Illustration]
THE CRUCIFIXION.
D^r. Stennett
'Tis finish'd!--so the Saviour cry'd,
And meekly bow'd his head and dy'd.
'Tis finish'd--yes, the race is run,
The battle fought, the vic'try won.
'Tis finish'd--all that heav'n decreed,
And all the ancient prophets said,
Is now fulfill'd, as was design'd,
In me, the Saviour of mankind.
'Tis finish'd--Aaron now no more
Must stain his robes with purple gore,
The sacred veil is rent in twain,
And Jewish rites no more remain.
'Tis finish'd--this my dying groan
Shall sins of ev'ry land atone,
Millions shall be redeem'd from death,
By this my last expiring breath.
'Tis finish'd--heav'n is reconcil'd,
And all the pow'rs of darkness spoild;
Peace, love, and happiness again
Return, and dwell with sinful men.
'Tis finishd--let the joyful sound
Be heard thro' all the nations round:
'Tis finish'd--let the echo fly
Thro heav'n and hell, thro earth and sky.
_London, Published by R. Miller, Old Fish Street, Doctors Commons._
------------------------------------------------------------------------
N^o. 19.
[Illustration]
EASTER DAY.
M^{rs}. Barbanld.
This day be grateful homage paid,
And loud hosannas sung:
Let gladness dwell in ev'ry heart,
And praise on ev'ry tongue.
Ten thousand diff'rent lips shall join,
To hail this welcome morn,
Which scatters blessings from its wings,
To nations yet unborn.
Jesus the friend of human kind,
With strong compassion mov'd,
Descended, like a pitying God,
To save the souls he lov'd.
The pow'rs of darkness leagu'd in vain,
To bind his soul in death;
He shook their kingdom, when he fell,
With his expiring breath.
Not long the toils of Hell could keep
The hope of Judah's line;
Corruption never could take hold
On aught so much divine.
And now his conqu'ring chariot wheels
Ascend the lofty skies;
While broke, beneath his pow'rful cross,
Death's iron sceptre lies.
Exalted high at God's right hand,
The Lord of all below:
Thro him is pard'ning love dispens'd,
And boundless blessings flow.
_London, Published by R. Miller, Old Fish Street, Doctors Commons._
------------------------------------------------------------------------
N^o. 20.
[Illustration]
A
THOUGHT ON WAKING.
Anonymous.
Sleep by night, and cares by day,
Bear my fleeting life away:
Lo! in yonder eastern skies,
The Sun appears, and bids me rise:
Tells me, Life is on the wing,
And has no returning spring:
Death comes on with steady pace,
And life's the only day of grace.--
Shining Preacher! happy morning,
Let me take th' important warning:
Rouse then all my active pow'rs,
Well improve the coming hours:
Let no trifles kill the day,
(Trifles oft our hearts betray)
Wisdom, Virtue, Knowledge, Truth,
Guide th' enquiries of my youth.
Wisdom and experience sage,
Then shall soothe the cares of age;
These with time shall never die;
Those will lead to joys on high;
Those the path of life display,
Shining with celestial day;
Blissful path! with safety trod,
The end of which is heav'n and God.
_London, Published by R. Miller, Old Fish Street, Doctors Commons._
------------------------------------------------------------------------
N^o. 21.
[Illustration]
INDUSTRY.
Anonymous.
Behold, fond youth, that busy bee;
How swift she flies from tree to tree;
Extracting flow'ry sweets;
Thus cheerful all the day she'll roam,
At evening seek her much lov'd home,
To treasure all she meets.
Full well she knows, that winter keen,
Must come to blast this painted scene,
With famine on his wing:
Her prudent labors find repose;
Nor winters cold, nor want she knows,
Till time renews the spring.
While yonder drone in sunny haunts,
Who just supplies his present wants,
Nor heeds the passing hours;
Soon bleak december's piercing air,
Shall mock his want of timely care,
And chill his vital powers.
Like the dull drone, should he who throws
Away what Providence bestows.
Feel pinching hours of need;
While they whose care is to increase,
Find, like the bee, in winter peace,
And every good succeed.
_London, Published by R. Miller, Old Fish Street, Doctors Commons._
------------------------------------------------------------------------
N^o. 22.
[Illustration]
JOURNEY TO EMMAUS.
Cowper.
It happen'd on a solemn eventide
Soon after he that was our surety died,
Two bosom friends, each pensively inclin'd.
The scene of all those sorrows left behind,
Sought their own village, busied as they went
In musings worthy of the great event;
They spake of him they lov'd, of him whose life
Tho' blameless, had incur'd perpetual strife,
Whose deeds had left, in spite of hostile arts,
A deep memorial graven on their hearts.
The recollection, like a vein of ore,
The further trac'd, enrich'd them still the more;
They thought him, and they justly thought him, one
Sent to do more than he appear'd t' have done
T' exalt a people, and to place them high
Above all else, and wonder'd he should die,
Ere yet they brought their journey to an end,
A stranger join'd them, courteous as a friend.
And ask'd them with a kind engaging air
What their affliction was, and begg'd a share.
Inform'd, he gather'd up the broken thread,
And truth and wisdom gracing all he said,
Explain'd, illustrated, and search'd so well
The tender theme on which they chose to dwell
That, reaching home, the night, they said is near,
We must not now be parted, sojourn here.
The new acquaintance, soon became a guest
And made so welcome at their simple feast
He bless'd the bread, but vanish'd at the word,
And left them both exclaiming, 'T'was the Lord'!
Did not our hearts feel all he deign'd to say.
Did they not burn within us by the way?
_London, Published by R. Miller, Old Fish Street, Doctors Commons._
------------------------------------------------------------------------
N^o. 23.
[Illustration]
A COUNTRY PROSPECT.
Sir Rich^d Hill.
While all thy glories, O my God!
Thro the creation shine;
While rocks, and hills, and fertile vales
Proclaim the hand divine.
O may I view with humble heart
The wonders of thy pow'r,
Display'd alike in wilder scenes,
As in each blade and flow'r.
But while I taste thy blessings, Lord,
And sip the streams below,
O may my soul be led to thee,
From whence all blessings flow;
And if such footsteps of thy love,
Thro this lost world we trace;
How far transcendent are thy works
Throughout the world of grace.
Just as before yon noontide sun,
The brightest stars are small.
So earthly comforts are but snares,
Till grace has crown'd them all.
_London, Published by R. Miller, Old Fish Street, Doctors Commons._
------------------------------------------------------------------------
N^o. 24.
[Illustration]
HAY TIME.
Newton.
The grass and flow'rs which clothe the field,
And look so green and gay,
Touch'd by the scythe, defenceless yield,
And fall, and fade away.
Fit emblem of our mortal state:
Thus in the scripture glass,
The young, the strong; the wise, the great;
May see themselves but grass.
O! trust not to your fleeting breath,
Nor call your time your own;
Around you see the scythe of death
Is mowing thousands down.
And you, who hitherto are spar'd,
Must shortly yield your lives:
Your wisdom is to be prepar'd,
Before the stroke arrives.
The grass, when dead, revives no more;
You die to live again;
But oh! if death should prove the door
To everlasting pain.
Lord, help us to obey thy call,
That from our sins set free,
When like the grass our bodies fall,
Our souls may spring to thee.
_London, Published by R. Miller, Old Fish Street, Doctors Commons._
------------------------------------------------------------------------
N^o. 25.
[Illustration]
SAMUEL.
Anonymous.
When I survey this holy child,
With bended knee, and count'nance mild,
With eyes and hands uplift in prayer,
The approving ray from heaven there.
What that implies O could I be,
Whene'er to God I bend the knee!
Thus fervent, reverent, and meek,
When I for heavenly blessings seek!
But ah! I have a foe within,
No print can shew the power of sin!
This cools my fervour and desires,
This unbelief and dread inspires.
O for thy holy Spirit, Lord!
This to my prayers shall life afford!
With Samuel's faith my soul supply,
Whene'er I to thy throne draw nigh.
_London, Published by R. Miller, Old Fish Street, Doctors Commons._
------------------------------------------------------------------------
N^o. 26.
[Illustration]
WHITSUNDAY.
Watts.
Great was the day, the joy was great,
When the divine disciples met,
Whilst on their heads the Spirit came,
And sat like tongues of cloven flame.
What gifts, what miracles he gave!
And pow'r to kill, and pow'r to save!
Furnish'd their tongues with wond'rous words,
Instead of shields, and spears, and swords!
Thus arm'd, he sent the champions forth,
From east to west, from south to north;
"Go, and assert your Saviour's cause;
"Go, spread the myst'ry of his cross.
These weapons of the holy war,
Of what almighty force they are,
To make our stubborn passions bow,
And lay the proudest rebel low.
Nations, the learned and the rude,
Are by these heavenly arms subdued;
While satan rages at his loss,
And hates the doctrine of the cross.
Great King of grace! my heart subdue!
I would be led in triumph too.
A willing captive to my Lord,
And sing the victories of his word.
_London, Published by R. Miller, Old Fish Street, Doctors Commons._