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When vice hath fhot its poison'a dart,
And conscious guilt corrodes the heart :
His blood is all-fufficient found,
To draw the shaft, and heal the wound.
What arrowsepierce fo deep as fin?
What venom gives such pain within ?
Thou great Phyfician of the soul,
Rebuke my pangs, and make me whole.
Oh ! If I trust thy sovereign skill,
With deep submission to thy will ;
Sickness and death shall both agree
To bring me, Lord, at last'to THEE.

CHARITY.
A Paraphrase on the Tlnirteenth Chapter of the First

Epifle to the Corinthians.
ID sweeter sounds ador'n my flowing tongue

, ;
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 babling earth;
Did Shadrach's zeal my glowing breast inspire,
To weary tortures, and rejoice in fire;
Or had I faith like that which Israel saw,
When Moses gave them miracles and law :
Yet, gracious CHARITY, indulgent guest,
Were not thy power exerted in my breast,
Those speeches would send up unheeded prayer,
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'ndile.

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 the suffers, as the much believes :
Soft peace the brings, wherever the arrives,
She builds our quiet, as the forms our lives :

Lays

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Lays the rough paths of peevish nature ev'n,
And opens in each heart a little heav'n.

Each other gift which God on man bestows,
Its proper bound, and due restriction knows :
To one fix'd purpose dedicates its pow'r,
And finishing its act, exists no more.
Thus in obedience to what heaven decrees,
Knowledge shall fail, and prophecy shall cease;
But lasting Charity's more ample sway,
Not bound by time, nor subject to decay,
In happy triumph fhall for ever live,
And endless good diffuse, and endless praise receive.

The UNKNOWN WORLD.
ARK my gay friend, that solemn toll

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'Tis gone,-that's all we know not where,
Or how th' unbody'd soul does fare.

In that mysterious world none knows,
But God alone, to whom it goes ;
To whom departed souls return,
To take their doom, to smile, or mourn.

Oh ! by what glimmering light we view
That unknown world we're haftning to !
God has lock'd up the mystic page,
And curtain’d darkness, round the stage !

Wise heav'n, to render search perplext,
Has drawn 'twixt this world and the next
A dark impenetrable screen,
All behind which is yet unseen!

We talk of heav'n, we talk of hell;
But what they mean, no tongue can tell !
Heav'n is the realm where angels are,
And hell the chaos of despair.

But what these awful words imply,
None of us know, before we die !
Whether we will or no, we must
Take the succeeding world on trust.

This hour, perhaps, our friend is well The next, we hear, his pafling-bell !

He

He dies ! and then for aught we see
Ceases at once to breathe and be.

Thus launch'd from life's ambiguous shore,
Ingulph'd in death, appears no more,
Then, undirected, to repair
To diftant worlds we know not where.

Swift flies the soul; perhaps 'tis gone
A thousand leagues beyond the sun;
Or twice ten thousand more thrice told,
Ere the fursaken clay is cold !

And yet, who knows, if friends we lov'd,
Though dead, may be so far remov'd ?
Only this vail of Aesh between,
Perhaps they watch us, though unseen.

Whilst we, their loss lamenting, say,
« They're out of hearing, far away ;"
Guardians to us, perhaps they're near,
Conceal'd in vehicles of air.

And yet no notices they give,
Nor tell us where, or how they live :
Though conscious, whilft with us below,
How much themselves defir'd to know.

As if bound up by folemn fate,
To keep this secret of their state,
To tell their joys or pains to none,
That man may live by faith alone.

Well, let my fou'reign, if he please,
Lock up his marvellous decrees;
Why should I with him to reveal
What he thinks proper to conceal ?

It is enough that I believe
Heav'n's brighter far than we conceive :
And they who make it all their care
To serve God here, shall see him there,

But oh! what worlds shall I survey,
The moment that I leave this clay ?
How sudden the surprise ! how new !
Let it, my God, be happy too !

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A DIVINE PASTORAL.

From "PSALM XXIII. HE Lord is my Ihepherd, my guardian and guide s Ever since I was born, it is he that hath crown'd The life that he gave me with blelings all round: While yet on the breast a poor infant I hung, Ere time had unloofen'd the strings of my tongue, He gave me the help which I could not then alk; Now therefore to thank him fhall be my fongue's talk.

Thro' my tenderest years, with as tender a care, My soul, like a lamb, in his bofom he bare ; To the brook he would lead me, whene'er I had need, And point out the pasture where beft I might feed : ) No harm could approach me's for he was my fhield From the fowls of the air, and the beasts of the field; The wolf, to devour me, would oftentimes prowl, But the Lord was my fhepherd, and guarded my soul.

How oft, in my youth, have I wander'd aftray ? And still he has brought me back to the right way

!
When, Joft in dark error, no path I could meet,
His word, like a lantern, has guided my feet;
What wond'rous escapes to his goodness I owe?
When, rash and unthinking, I sought my own woe :
My soul had, long since, been gone down to the deeps
If the Lord had not watched, when I was asleep.

Whenfoe'er, at a distance, he fees me afraid,
He Aies o'er the mountains, and comes to my aid;
Then leads me back gently, and bids me abide
In the midst of his flock, and feed close by his fide :
How safe in his keeping, how happy and free,
Could I always remain where he bids me to be!
Yea bleft are the people, and happy thrice told,
That obey the Lord's voice, and abide in his fold.

The fold it is full, and the pasture is green ;
All is friendship and love, and no enmity feen:
There the Lord' dwells, amongst üs, upon his own hill ;
With the flocks all around him, awaiting his will :
Himself in the midst, with a provident eye
Regarding our wants, and procuring fupply ;

An abundance springs up of each nourishing bud, And we gather his gifts, and are filled with good.

At

At his voice, or example, we move, or we stay.
For the Lord is himself both our leader and way:
The hills smoke with incense where er he hath trod,
And a facred perfume shows the footsteps of God.
While bleft with his presence, the valleys beneath.
A sweet smelling favour incessantly breathe :
The delight is renew?d of each sensible-thing ;
And beheld in their bloom all the beauties of spring:

Or, if a quite different scene he prepare,
And we march thro' the wilderness, barren and bare ;
By his wonderful works, we see plainly enough,
That the earth is the Lord's, and the fulness thereof;
If we hunger, or thirst, and are ready to faint,
A relief in due season prevents our complaint i
The rain, at his word, brings us food from the sky,
And rocks become rivers when we are adry.

From the fruitfullest hill to the barrenest rock,
The Lord hath made all for the good of his Aock
And the flock, in return, the Lord always confess
In plenty their joy, and their hope in distress :
He beholds in our welfare his glory display d,
And we find ourselves blest in obedience repay'd:
With a chearful regard we attend to his ways ;
Our attention is pray'r, and our chearfulness praise.

The Lord is my shepherds .wbat then Thiall I fear? 'I
What danger can frighten me whilft he is near
Not when the time calls me to walk thro' the vale
Of the shadow of death, shall my heart ever fail ;
Tho' afraid, of myself, to pursue the dark way,
Thy rod, and thy staff, be my comfort and ftay;
For I know, by thy guidance, when once it is part,
To a fountain of life it will bring 'me at laft.

The Lord is become my salvation and song,
His blessing shall follow me all my life long !".
Whatsoever condition he places me in,
I am sure 'tis the best it could ever have been:
For the Lord he is good, and his mercies are fure ;
He only afflicts us in order to cure:
The Lord will I praise while I have any

breath
Be content all my life, and resign'd at my death.

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