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Who, from each flower and tender stalk,
My Father. Who wrote upon that heart the line Religion graved on Virtue's shrine, To make the human race divine ?
My Father. Who, now, in pale and placid light Of memory, gleams upon my sight; Bursting the sepulchre of night?
My Father. Oh! teach me still thy Christian plan ; Thy practice with thy precept ran; Nor yet desert me, though a man,
My Father. Still let thy scholar's heart rejoice, With charms of thy angelic voice : Still prompt the motive and the choice,
My Father. For yet remains a little space, Ere I shall meet thee, face to face ; And, not as now, in vain embrace,
Soon, as I hope, at Mercy's seat,
THE SUN, A MONITOR.
My God, thou mak'st the sun to know
His proper hour to rise,
Dost send him round the skies.
When from the chambers of the East
His morning race begins,
But round the world he shines.
So, like the sun, would I fulfil
The business of the day;
March on my heav'nly way.
Give me, O Lord, thy early grace,
Nor let my soul complain,
Has all been spent in vain.
Teach me to pray, and let my pray'r
Like holy incense rise ;
To reach the lofty skies.
Encompass me around.
Hath my Creator found !
From sin to save my soul?
Fast as my minutes roll!
That I to thee may flee,
To be renew'd by thee.
And fill my heart with love;
And henceforth faithful prove.
IMPLORING DIVINE GUIDANCE.
Be with me, Lord, where'er I go;
test I harbour pride ;
If I am right, thy grace impart,
Still in the right to stay,
To find that better way.
Save me alike from foolish pride,,
Or impious discontent,
Or aught thy goodness lent.
Teach me to feel another's woe,
To hide the fault I see ; That mercy I to others show,
That mercy show to me.
Mean though I am, not wholly sos
Since quicken'd by thy breath :, Qh lead me wheresoe'er I go,
Through this day's life or death! This day be bread and peace my lot,
All else beneath the sun Thou know'st if best bestow'd or not,
And let thy will be done.
PRAISE TO GOD:
Brass to God, immortal praise -