SECTION XII.

An evening hymn.

AND now another day is gone,

I'll sing my Maker's praise:
My comforts ev'ry hour make known
His providence and grace.

But how my childhood runs to waste!
My sins, how great their sum!

Lord! give me pardon for the past,
And strength for days to come.

I lay my body down to sleep;

Let angels guard my head,

And through the hours of darkness keep
Their watch around my bed.

With cheerful heart I close my eyes,

Since God will not remove ;

And in the morning let me rise,

Rejoicing in his love.

SECTION XIII.

The winter's day.

WHEN raging storms deform the air,

And clouds of snow descend;

And the wide landscape, bright and fair,

No deepen'd colours blend;

WATTS.

When biting frost rides on the wind,

Bleak from the north and east ; And wealth is at its ease reclin'd,

Prepar'd to laugh and feast;

When the poor trav'ller treads the plain, All dubious of his way;

And crawls with night-increasing pain, And dreads the parting day;

When poverty in vile attire,

Shrinks from the biting blast;

Or hovers o'er the pigmy fire,

And fears it will not last;

When the fond mother hugs her child,
Still closer to her breast;

And the poor infant, frost-beguil❜d,

Scarce feels that it is prest:

Then let your bounteous hand extend
Its blessings to the poor;

Nor spurn the wretched, while they bend
All suppliant at your door.

SECTION XIV.

Compassion and forgiveness.

I HEAR the voice of wo;

A brother mortal mourns:

My eyes with tears, for tears o'erflow;

My heart his sighs returns.

I hear the thirsty cry;

The famish'd beg for bread:

O let my spring its streams supply;
My hand its bounty shed.

And shall not wrath relent,

Touch'd by that humble strain,
My brother crying, "I repent,
Nor will offend again?"

How else, on sprightly wing,

Can hope bear high my pray'r,

Up to thy throne, my God, my King,

To plead for pardon there?

SECTION XV.

The ignorance of man.

BEHOLD yon new-born infant griev'd
With hunger, thirst, and pain;
That asks to have the wants reliev'd
It knows not to complain.

Aloud the speechless suppliant cries,
And utters, as it can,

The woes that in its bosom rise,

And speak its nature-man.

That infant, whose advancing hour

Life's various sorrows try,

(Sad proof of sin's transmissive pow'r!)

That infant, Lord, am I.

SCOTT.

A childhood yet my thoughts confess,

Though long in years mature; Unknowing whence I feel distress,

And where, or what, its cure.

Author of good! to thee I turn
Thy ever-wakeful eye

Alone can all my wants discern ;
Thy hand alone supply.

O let thy fear within me dwell;
Thy love my footsteps guide:
That love shall all vain loves expel;
That fear all fears beside.

And oh! by error's force subdu'd,
Since oft my stubborn will,

Prepost'rous shuns the latent good,
And grasps the specious ill;

Not to my wish, but to my want,

Do thou thy gifts apply:

Unask'd, what good thou knowest, grant;
What ill, though ask'd, deny.

SECTION XVI.

The happy choice.

BESET with snares on ev'ry hand,
In life's uncertain path I stand :
Father Divine! diffuse thy light,

To guide my doubtful footsteps right.

MERRICK.

Engage this frail and wav'ring heart,
Wisely to choose the better part;

To scorn the trifles of a day,

For joys that never fade away.

Then let the wildest storms arise;
Let tempests mingle earth and skies:
No fatal shipwreck shall I fear;
But all my treasures with me bear.

If thou, my Father! still art nigh,
Cheerful I live, and peaceful die:
Secure, when mortal comforts flee,
To find ten thousand worlds in thee.

SECTION XVII.

The fall of the leaf.

SEE the leaves around us falling,
Dry and wither'd to the ground;

Thus to thoughtless mortals calling,
In a sad and solemn sound:

"Sons of Adam, (once in Eden,

When, like us, he blighted fell,)

Hear the lecture we are reading;
'Tis, alas! the truth we tell.

Virgins, much, too much presuming
On your boasted white and red;

DODDRIDGE.