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If thou art near, I burn; remote, I frecze;
See while I speak, behold, I melt away!
ON ST. PAUL'S CONVERSION.
RAISE to the power whose love's unerring dart
Transfix'd a saul, and rent his Jewish heart ! His darkness scatter'd and his mind inform’d, While sweet remorse his. muling bosom warm’d. Such was the man whom mercy's eye severe Struck to the earth, and stopt his mad career. Bid him—" arise”—and rising from the ground, “ Go forth and preach the mercy he had found !”
PART OF PSALM XC. PARAPHRASED.
O sooner time his hasty Alight began,
And the warm clod was moulded into man,
Before the skies their ambient arch display'd,
Lord ! as our lives were kindled by thy breath,
distinctions once we wore, Sink to our dust, and rise to earth no more.
The tedious travel of a thousand years
As rivers, swoln with fierce descending rains,
So from life's careless walks with headlong sway
When sleep has hush'd the day's sad cares to rest,
Urg'd by necessity, with painful feet
Admit it, heaven should check the stroke of fate
go, And pant beneath a growing load of woe;
Till nature, with her toils and griefs opprest,
O dread JEHOVAH, who can ever know
THOUGHTS IN HEALTH.
HEN sickness shall affail my noblest part, W
And rush impetuous on my throbbing heart; When pain possess’d of every nerve appears, And nought but paleness my fall’n visage wears; When every earthly wish shall fade away, And death shall chill the itiff’ning corse to clay; Do thou, GREAT GOD! in that surprizing hour, Sustain my soul by thy almighty power : Let faith, let hope, let ecstacy of love, Wing me to reach the blissful scenes above; To join the choir where each thy glory sings, And hail triumphant THEE, blest KING of kings.
I COR. CHAP. XIII. PARAPHRASED.
BY MR. PRIOR.
ID sweeter sounds adorn my flowing tongue,
Than ever man pronounc'd, or angel sung: Had I all knowledge, human and divine, That thought can reach, or science can define; And had I power to give that knowledge birth, In all the speeches of the babbling earth: Did Shadrach’s zeal my glowing breast inspire, To weary tortures and rejoice in fire ; Or had I faitl like that which Israel faw, When Mofes gave them miracles, and law; Yet gracious CHARITY, indulgent guest, Were not thy power exerted in my breast, Those speeches would send up unheeded pray'r; That scorn of life would be but wild despair : A cymbal's found were better than my voice: My faith were form: my eloquence were noise.
CHARITY, decent, modest, easy, kind, Softens the high, and rears the abject mind; Knows with just reins, and gentle hand to guide, Betwixt vile shame, and arbitrary pride, Not soon provok’d, she easily forgives : And much she suffers, as she much believes. Soft peace she brings where ever she arrives; She builds our quiet, as the forms our lives :