Heaven's golden-wingèd herald late he saw

To a poor Galilean virgin sent; How long the bright youth bowed, and with what awe Immortal flowers to her fair hand present:

He saw the old Hebrew's womb neglect the law

Of age and barrenness; and her Babe prevent

His birth by his devotion, who began

Betimes to be a saint before a man!

Yet, on the other side, fain would he start

Above his fears, and think it cannot be:

He studies Scripture, strives to sound the heart

Their great Original proclaim.
The 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 listening 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 roll, And spread the truth from pole to pole.

What though, in solemn silence, all Move round this dark, terrestrial ball?

What though nor real voice nor sound

Amidst their radiant orbs be found?
In reason's ear they all rejoice,
And utter forth a glorious voice,
Forever singing as they shine,

66

The hand that made us is divine!" ADDISON.

Man's wisdom is to seek

His strength in God alone; And even an angel would be weak, Who trusted in his own.

Retreat beneath his wings,

And in his grace confide: This more exalts the King of kings Than all your works beside.

In Jesus is our store;

Grace issues from his throne: Whoever says, "I want no more," Confesses he has none. COWPER.

PROVIDENCE.

GOD moves in a mysterious way
His wonders to perform:
He plants his footsteps in the sea,
And rides upon the storm.

Deep in unfathomable mines
Of never-failing skill,
He treasures up his bright designs,
And works his sovereign will.

Ye fearful saints, fresh courage take:
The clouds ye so much dread
Are big with mercy, and shall break
In blessings on your head.

Judge not the Lord by feeble sense,
But trust him for his grace:
Behind a frowning providence
He hides a smiling face.

DEPENDENCE.

To keep the lamp alive,

With oil we fill the bowl:

'Tis water makes the willow thrive, And grace that feeds the soul.

The Lord's unsparing hand

Supplies the living stream: It is not at our own command, But still derived from him.

PROVIDENCE.

O SACRED Providence, who from end to end

Strongly and sweetly movest! shall I write,