« PreviousContinue »
Will send you there to dwell.
With strange surprise you'll find,
And tortures wake the mind.
Of plagues you scorned before,
Like foolish tales no more.
With flames upon your tongue,
Of life's mistaken ill or good,
The beautiful vicissitude.
Fill'd with afflictions bitter cup,
Thy powerful hand can raise us up.
Thy smiles suppress the deep fetch'd sigh, Thy hand can dry the trickling tear,
That secret wets the widow's eye.
4 All things on earth, and all heaven,
On thy eternal will depend;
And all shall in thy glory end. 34
To eyes that now are dimmed with tears,
In prospect of eternal night. 2 There was a time, there was ..ale,
When all was joy within that breast, Where memory now, with scorpion whip,
Scourges the conscience from its rest. 3 There was a time, there was a time,
When noblest feelings swelled the soul,
And drowned those feelings in the bowl. 4 There was a time, there was a time,
When life's young spring was gay and fair, And promised much; but winter came,
The dreary winter of despair ! 5 And must it be for ever so ?
Is man's the melancholy doom,
No second spring can ever bloom ?
Shed quickening odours from above,
The freshening dews of heavenly love. 7 They will restore the drooping plant
Of virtue, which shall never die,
THE WORD OF HOPE. 1 THERE'S a blessing on the wing,
This the simple solemn strain,
2 Hear your wives, your children plead,
Hear the gospel intercede!
PRAYER OF THE REFORMED.
thou source of ills unnumbered,
Much too long has reason slumbered,
But adieu, at last I'm saved.
2 Long bereft of every blessing,
I have sought for rest in vain;
Held its unrelenting chain.
By unmeasur'd wo unblest;
Dreams of horrors broke my rest.
I have just escap'd the tomb;
Plenty smiles upon my home.
Shed thy radiant beams around;
DRUNKARD'S HOPE. 1 66 THOUGH sore beset with guilt and fear,
If I must perish, would the Lord
Had he resolved to say me nay?
I'm fallen, but shall rise again.
I'll cast myself before his feet;
OBJECT AND END OF THE TEMPER
Bright herald of a new-born day!
To chase away our darksome night.
'Twas like the darkness of the tomb,
Beheld thy beauteous beams arise.
We hail thee as a boon divine.
Our voices in his matchless praise.
In all that aids our guilty race.