HYMN OF PRAISE. WHEN all Thy mercies, O my God! O how shall words, with equal warmth, The gratitude declare That glows within my ravish'd heart! But Thou canst read it there. Thy providence my life sustain'd, To all my weak complaints and cries Thy mercy lent an ear, Ere yet my feeble thoughts had learn'd To form themselves in prayer. Unnumber'd comforts to my soul From whom these comforts flow'd. When in the slipp'ry paths of youth Thine arm, unseen, convey'd me safe, Through hidden dangers, toils, and deaths, It gently clear'd my way; And through the pleasing snares of vice, More to be fear'd than they. When worn with sickness, oft hast Thou Thy bounteous hand with worldly bliss Ten thousand thousand precious gifts My daily thanks employ ; Nor is the least a cheerful heart, That tastes these gifts with joy. Through every period of my life When nature fails, and day and night Divide Thy works no more, My ever grateful heart, O Lord, Through all eternity to Thee JOSEPH ADDISON, 1672-1719. WILD FLOWERS. BEAUTIFUL children of the woods and fields! heather, Or into clusters, 'neath the hazels, gatherOr where by hoary rocks you make your bields, And sweetly flourish on through summer weather,I love ye all! Beautiful flowers! to me ye fresher seem And I can image you as in a dream, Fair, modest maidens, nursed in hamlets small,— I love ye all! Beautiful gems! that on the brow of earth Though lovely ye, and most without a name, Young hearts rejoice to see your buds come forth, As light erewhile into the world came,— I love ye all! Beautiful things ye are where'er ye grow! The wild red rose-the speedwell's peeping eyes-Our own bluebell-the daisy, that doth rise Wherever sunbeams fall or winds do blow; And thousands more, of blessed forms and ayes,— I love ye all! Beautiful nurslings of the early dew! Fann'd in your loveliness by every breeze, And shaded o'er by green and arching trees: I often wish that I were one of you, Dwelling afar upon the grassy leas, I love ye all! Beautiful watchers! day and night ye wake! But ye are watchful wheresoe'er we stray,— Beautiful objects of the wild-bee's love! The wild-bird joys your opening bloom to see, I love ye all! Beautiful children of the glen and dale— Ye o'er my heart have thrown a lovesome spell; ROBERT NICOLL, 1814-1837. HUMAN FRAILTY. WEAK and irresolute is man; The purpose of to-day, The bow well bent, and smart the spring, But passion rudely snaps the string, And it revives again. Some foe to his upright intent Finds out his weaker part; Virtue engages his assent, 'Tis here the folly of the wise |