In summer so fragrant and gay y! But the leaves are beginning to fade in an hour, 2. Yet the rose has one pow'rful virtue to boast, When its leaves are all dead, and fine colours lost, 3. So frail is the youth and beauty of men, Tho' they bloom and look gay like the rose; For all our fond care to preserve them is vain ; Time kills them as fast as he goes. 4. Then I'll not be proud of my youth or my beauty, Since both of them wither and fade; But gain a good name by performing my duty: SECTION X. 1. THESE emmets, how little they are in our eyes! Yet as wise as we are, if we went to their school, Some lessons of wisdom might learn. 2. They don't wear their time out in sleeping or play. But gather up corn in a sun shiny day, And for winter they lay up their stores: They manage their work in such regular forms, One would think they foresaw all the frosts and the storms, And so brought their food within doors. 3. But I have less sense than a poor creeping ant, When death or old age shall stare in my face, 4. Now, now, while my strength and my youth are in bloom, Let me think what will serve me when sickness shall come, And pray that my sins be forgiven: Let me read in good books, and believe and obey, That, when death turns me out of this cottage of clay, I may dwell in a palace in Heav'n. SECTION XI. A morning Hymn. 1, My God who makes the sun to know His proper hour to rise, And to give light to all below, Does send him round the skies. WATER 2. When from the chambers of the east His morning race begins, He never tires, nor stops to rest; But round the world he shines. 3. So, like the sun, would I fulfil The business of the day: Begin my work betimes, and still March on my heavenly way. 4. Give me, O Lord, thy early grace; That the young morning of my days SECTION XII. An evening hymn. 1. AND now another day is gone, I'll sing my Maker's praise; 2. But how my childhood runs to waste! 3. I lay my body down to sleep; And through the hours of darkness keep 4. With cheerful heart I close my eyes, SECTION XIII. 1. WHEN raging storms deform the air, And clouds of snow descend; And the wide landscape, bright and fair, 2. When biting frost rides on the wind, And wealth is at its ease reclin'd, 3. When the poor trav❜ller treads the plain, And crawls with night increasing pain, WATTS. WATTS. 4. When poverty in vile attire, Shrinks from the biting blast, And fears it will not last; 6. Then let your bounteous hand extend Nor spurn the wretched, while they bend SECTION XIV. Compassion and forgiveness. 1. I HEAR the voice of wo; A brother mortal mourns: My eyes with tears, for tears o'erflow; 2. I hear the thirsty cry; The famish'd beg for bread: 3. And shall not wrath relent, Touch'd by that humble strain, 4. How else, on sprightly wing, Can hope bear high my pray'r, SECTION XV. The ignorance of man. 1. BEHOLD yon new-born infant griev'd That asks to have the wants reliev'd 2. Aloud the speechless suppliant cries, The woes that in its bosom rise, 3. That infant, whose advancing hour (Sad proof of sin's transmissive pow'r ! SCOTT. 4. A childhood yet my thoughts confess, 5. Author of good! to thee I turn : Alone can all my wants discern ; 6. O let thy fear within me dwell; 8. Not to my wish, but to my want, Unask'd, what good thou knowest, grant; SECTION XVI. The happy choice. 1. BESET with snares on ev'ry hand, SECTION XVII. The fall of the leaf. 1. SEE the leaves around us falling, Dry and wither'd to the ground; MERRICK Thus to thoughtless mortals calling, In a sad and solemn sound: 3. "Virgins, much, too much presuming 4. Youths, though yet no losses grieve you, 6. "On the tree of life eternal, Man, let all thy hopes be stay'd; Which alone, for ever vernal, Bears a leaf that shall not fade." SECTION XVIII. Trust in the goodness of God. 1. WHY, O my soul, why thus depress'd, And whence this anxious fear? Let former favors fix thy trust, And check the rising tear. 2. When darkness and when sorrows rose, And was not God thy guide? 3. Affliction is a stormy deep, Where wave resounds to wave: Though o'er my head the billows roll, I know the Lord can save. 4. Perhaps before the morning dawns, For he who bade the tempest roar, DR. HORNE. |