Life is a fea, where ftorms must rise; Be still, nor anxious thoughts employ; Diftruft imbitters prefent joy: On God for all events depend; You cannot want when God's your friend. Weigh well your part, and do your beft; Leave to your Maker all the rest.: The hand which form'd thee in the womb, Guides from the cradle to the tomb. Can the fond mother flight her boy; You You fay, that troubles intervene, Of Heav'n afk virtue, wifdom, health, And a calm confcience crowns the whole; He spake-The airy spectre flies, And ftrait the fweet illufion dies. The The vifion, at the early dawn, Confign'd me to the thoughtful morn; HAP YE ductile youths, whofe rifing fun ΥΕ Hath many circles ftill to run; I faw this wond'rous vifion foon, One night, when balmy slumbers shed A thoufand fcenes unknown before. And crouds pour'd in from every fide: All All seem'd to start a diff'rent game, But all, alas! enchanted ground. Indeed I judg'd it wond'rous ftrange, * AS PARNELL fays, my bofom wrought And, as an angel help'd the dean, The drefs of each was much the fame, *The Hermit. Attend, |