Each fights, as in his Arm th' important Day
And all the Fate of his great Monarch lay:
A Thousand glorious Actions, that might claim
Triumphant Laurels, and Immortal Fame,
Confus'd in Crouds of glorious Actions lye,
And Troops of Heroes undistinguish'd die.
O Dormer, how can I behold thy Fate,
And not the Wonders of thy Youth relate!
How can I see the Gay, the Brave, the Young,
Fall in the Cloud of War, and lye unsung!
In Joys of Conquest he resigns his Breath,
And, fill'd with England's Glory, smiles in Death.
HE Lord my Pasture shall prepare,
And feed me with a Shepherd's Care:
His Presence shall my wants supply,
And guard me with a watchful Eye;
My Noon-day Walks he shall attend,
And all my midnight Hours defend.
When in the sultry Glebe I faint,
Or on the thirsty Mountain pant,
To fertile Vales and dewy Meads
My weary wand'ring Steps he leads;
Where peaceful Rivers, soft and slow,
Amid the verdant Landskip flow.
Tho' in the Paths of Death I tread,
With gloomy Horrors over-spread;
My steadfast Heart shall fear no Ill,
For thou, O Lord, art with me still;
Thy friendly Crook shall give me Aid,
And guide me through the dreadful Shade.
Tho' in a bare and rugged Way,
Through devious lonely Wilds I stray,
Thy Bounty shall my Pains beguile:
The barren Wilderness shall smile
With sudden Greens and Herbage crown'd,
And Streams shall murmur all around.
The Spectator, July 26, 1712
HEN all thy Mercies, O my God,
My rising Soul surveys;
Transported with the View, I'm lost
In Wonder, Love, and Praise.
O how shall Words with equal Warmth
The Gratitude declare
That glows within my Ravish'd Heart!
But thou canst read it there.
Thy Providence my Life sustain'd
And all my Wants redrest,
When in the silent Womb I lay,
And hung upon the Breast.
To all my weak Complaints and Cries
Thy Mercy lent an Ear,
Ere yet my feeble Thoughts had learnt
To form themselves in Pray'r.
Unnumber'd Comforts to my Soul
Thy tender Care bestow'd,
Before my Infant Heart conceiv'd
From whom those Comforts flow'd.
When in the slipp'ry Paths of Youth
With heedless Steps I ran,
Thine Arm unseen convey'd me safe
And led me up to Man;
Through hidden Dangers, Toils, and Deaths
It gently clear'd my Way,
And through the pleasing Snares of Vice,
More to be fear'd than they.
When worn with Sickness, oft hast thou
With Health renew'd my Face,
And when in Sins and Sorrows sunk,
Revived my Soul with Grace.
Thy bounteous Hand with worldly Bliss
Has made my Cup run o'er,
And in a kind and faithful Friend
Has doubled all my Store.
Ten thousand thousand precious Gifts
My Daily Thanks employ,
Nor is the least a chearful Heart,
That tastes those Gifts with Joy.
Through ev'ry Period of my Life
Thy Goodness I'll pursue,
And after Death in distant Worlds
The glorious Theme renew.
When Nature fails, and Day and Night
Divide thy Works no more,
My Ever-grateful Heart, O Lord,
Thy Mercy shall adore.
Through all Eternity to Thee
A joyful Song I'll raise,
For oh! Eternity 's too short
To utter all thy Praise.
The Spectator, August 9, 1712
HE Spacious Firmament on high,
With all the blue Etherial Sky,
And spangled Heav'ns, a Shining Frame,
Their great Original proclaim:
Th' unwearied Sun, from Day to Day,
Does his Creator's Power display,
And publishes to every Land
The Work of an Almighty Hand.
Soon as the Evening Shades prevail,
The Moon takes up the wondrous Tale,
And nightly to the listning Earth
Repeats the Story of her Birth:
Whilst all the Stars that round her burn,
And all the Planets, in their turn,
Confirm the Tidings as they rowl,
And spread the Truth from Pole to Pole.
What though, in solemn Silence, all
Move round the dark terrestrial Ball?
What tho' nor real Voice nor Sound
Amid their radiant Orbs be found?
In Reason's Ear they all rejoice,
And utter forth a glorious Voice,
For ever singing, as they shine,
"The Hand that made us is Divine.'
The Spectator, August 23, 1712
OW are thy Servants blest, O Lord!
How sure is their Defence!
Eternal Wisdom is their Guide,
Their Help Omnipotence.
In foreign Realms, and Lands remote,
Supported by Thy Care,
Through burning Climes I pass'd unhurt,
And breath'd in tainted Air.
Thy Mercy sweetned ev'ry Soil,
Made ev'ry Region please;
The hoary Alpine Hills it warm'd,
And smoak'd the Tyrrhene Seas:
Think, O my Soul, devoutly think,
How with affrighted Eyes
Thou saw'st the wide extended Deep
In all its Horrors rise!
Confusion dwelt in ev'ry Face,
And Fear in ev'ry Heart;
When Waves on Waves, and Gulphs in Gulphs,
O'ercame the Pilot's Art.
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