Yet thou regard'st the man that stands in awe, And when he feels himself by thee inspir'd, In anger through the land thou oft dost go, Oft in thy visits made from vice unkind, Plague flies before, while famine stalks behind. 225 'Gainst vice with terror though thou art endu❜d, Can the meek Mother, whom affection fill'd, Against the little darling whom she bred, Rear'd in her arms, and with her bosom fed? 230 Against the little darling whom she bred, Rear'd in her arms, and with her bosom fed; 235 But Thou wilt never thine own sons neglect, Wilt never cease the righteous to protect. O Lord, how various are thy works and great! Declares the work of an almighty hand. There bulky vessels make their trackless way, And there Leviathan is wont to play, 245 Who seems, as high his monstrous bulk he heaves, His eyes effulgent with indignant scorn, 250 In all the glorious works which thou hast made, 255 Thy hand thou op'nest, they are filled with good; While I have being I will speak thy praise, In that my voice triumphantly I'll raise. END OF THE SECOND BOOK. |