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Aloud the fpeechlefs fuppliant cries,
And utters, as it can,

The woes that in it's bofom rife,
And fpeak it's nature-Man.

That infant, whofe advancing hour
Life's various forrows try,

(Sad proof of Sin's tranfmiffive pow'r!) That infant, Lord! am I,

A childhood yet my thoughts confefs,
Tho' long in years mature,
Unknowing whence I feel diftrefs,
And where, or what it's cure.

Author of Good! to thee I turn:

Thy ever wakeful

eye

Alone can all my wants difcern,
Thy hand alone fupply.

O let thy fear within me dwell,
Thy love my footsteps guide;
That love fhall vainer loves expel,
That fear all fears befide.

And O! by Error's force fubdu'd,
Since oft my ftubborn will,
Prepofterous, fhuns the latent good,
And grafps the fpecious ill;

Not to my wish, but to my want,
Do thou thy gifts apply:

Unafk'd, what good thou knoweft grant;
What ill, tho' ask’d, deny.

MERRICK.

INSCRIPTION FOR A RILL.

AH! not in vain we filver rills

From moffy fountains flow:
Who brawling down the vocal hills,
Leave mortals as we go.

Pictur❜d in us, may mortals fee,

In our inceffant ftrife,

The toils of drear obfcurity

The toils of mortal life.

Faft, faft we run, ne'er to return,
Like time that ever flies ;

Thy fate with us, O man then mourn,
And mourning be thou wife.

Tho' fretting on, our courfe we gain,

Like poor contentious pride,

Yet all our toil is not in vain,
We fwell the river's tide.

From us, lone travellers of the dale,
O be it understood,

How e'en the lowlieft in life's vale

May aid the common good!

BIDLAKE,

HYMN FOR MORNING,

SEE the ftar that leads the day,
Rifing fhoots a golden ray,

To make the fhades of darkness go
From heaven above and earth below;
And warn us early with the fight,
To leave the beds of filent night;

From an heart fincere and found
From its very deepest ground:
Send devotion up on high,

Wing'd with heat to reach the sky.
See the time for fleep has run,
Rife before, or with the fun :
Lift thy hands, and humbly pray
The fountain of eternal day;
That, as the light, ferenely fair,
Illuftrates all the tracts of air;

The facred spirit so may rest,
With quickening beams upon thy breast;

And kindly clear it all within,

From darker blemishes of fin

And fhine with grace, until we view
The realm it gilds with glory too.

See the day that dawns in air,
Brings along its toil and care:
From the lap of Night it fprings,
With heaps of business on its wings;
Prepare to meet them in a mind,
That bows fubmiffively refign'd;
That would to works appointed fall,
That knows that God has order'd all.

And whether, with a final repaft, We break the fober morning fast;

Or in our thoughts and houses lay
The future methods of the day;
Or early walk abroad to meet
Our bufinefs with induftrious feet:
Whate'er we think, whate'er we do,
His glory ftill be kept in view.

O, Giver of Eternal Bliss,

Grant, heavenly Father! grant me this;

Grant it all, as well as me,

All whofe hearts are fix'd on thee;

Who revere thy son above,

Who thy facred spirit love.

PARNELL,

HYMN FOR NOON.

THE fun is fwiftly mounted high,
It glitters in the fouthern fky;

Its beams with force and glory beat,
And fruitful earth is fill'd with heat.

Father! alfo with thy fire

Warm the cold, the dead defire,

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