SONG XXII.
Againft Pride in Clothes.

WHY fhould our Garments, made to hide
Our Parents' Shame, provoke our Pride?
The Art of Dress did ne'er begin,
Till Eve our Mother learnt to fin.

When first she put the Cov'ring on,
Her Robe of Innocence was gone;
And yet her Children vainly boaft
In the fad Marks of Glory loft.

How proud we are! how fond to show
Our Clothes, and call them rich and new
When the poor Sheep and Silk-worm

wore

That very Clothing long before.

The Tulip and the Butterfly
Appear in gayer Coats than I;

Let me be dreft fine as I will,

Flies, Worms, and Flowers exceed me

ftill.

Then will I fet

my Heart to find

Inward Adornings of the Mind;
Knowledge and Virtue, Truth

Grace,

Thefe are the Robes of richest Drefs.

and

No more fhall Worms with me compare;
This is the Raiment Angels wear;
The fon of GOD, when here below,
Put on this bleft Apparel too.

It never fades, it ne'er grows old,
Nor fears the Rain, nor Moth,
Mold,

nor

It takes no Spot, but ftill refines;
The more 'tis worn, the more it fhines.
In this on Earth fhould I appear,
Then go to Heav'n and wear it there,
GOD will approve it in his Sight;
"Tis his own Work, and his Delight.

SONG XXIII.

Obedience to Parents.

LET Children that wou'd fear the LORD Hear what their teachers fay;

With Rev'rence meet their Parents' Word,
And with Delight obey.

Have you not heard what dreadful Plagues
Are threaten'd by the LORD,
To him that breaks his Father's Law,
Or mocks his Mother's Word?

What heavy Guilt upon him lies!
How curfed is his name!
The Ravens fhall pick out his Eyes,
And Eagles eat the fame.

But those who worship God and give
Their Parents Honour due,

Here on this Earth they long fhall live,
And live hereafter too.

الأمل

SONG XXIV.

The Child's Complaint.

WHY fhould I love my Sports fo well, So conftant at my Play,

And lofe the Thoughts of Heav'n and Hell,
And then forget to pray?

What do I read my Bible for,
But, LORD, to learn thy Will,
And fhall I daily know thee more,
And lefs obey thee ftill?

How fenfeless is my Heart and wild,
How vain are all my Thoughts!
Pity the weaknefs of a Child,

And pardon all my Faults.

Make me thy heav'nly Voice to hear,

And let me love to pray;

Since God will lend a gracious Ear,
To what a child can fay.

SONG XXV.

A Morning Song.

MY GOD who makes the Sun to know His proper Hour to rife,

And to give light to all below,

Doth fend him round the Skies.

When from the chambers of the Eaft,
His Morning race begins,
He never tires, nor ftops to reft;

But round the World he fhines.

So, like the Sun, would I fulfil
The Bufinefs of the Day:
Begin my Work betimes, and ftill
March on my Heav'nly Way.

Give me, O LORD! thy early Grace,
Nor let my Soul complain,

That the young Morning of my Days. Has all been fpent in vain,