10 Ten thousand thousand precious gifts
my daily thanks employ;
nor is the least a chearful heart,
that tastes those gifts with joy.
11 Through every period of my life,
thy goodness I'll pursue;

and after death, in distant worlds,
the glorious theme renew.

12 When Nature fails, and day and night divide thy works no more,

my ever-grateful heart, O Lord,
thy mercy shall adore.

13 Through all eternity to thee,
a joyful song. I'll raise;
for, oh! eternity's too short,
to utter all thy praise.

AN ODE.

1 How are thy servants blest, O Lord!
how sure is their defence!
eternal wisdom is their guide,
their help Omnipotence.

2 In foreign realms, and lands remote,
supported by thy care,

through burning climes I pass'd unhurt,
and breath'd in tainted air.

3 Thy mercy sweeten'd every soil,
made every region please;
the hoary Alpine-hills it warm'd,
and smooth'd the Tyrrhene seas.

4 Think, O my soul, devoutly think,
how, with affrighted eyes,

thou saw'st the wide-extended deep,

in all i'ts horrors rise.

5 Confusion dwelt in every face,

and fear in every heart;

when waves on waves, and gulphs on gulphs, o'ercame the pilot's art.

6 Yet then from all my griefs, O Lord,
thy mercy set me free;

whilst, in the confidence of prayer,
my soul took hold on thee.

7 For tho' in dreadful whirls we hung
high on the broken wave,

I knew thou wert not slow to hear,
nor impotent to save.

8 The storm was laid, the winds retir'd,
obedient to thy will;

the sea, that roar'd at thy command,
at thy command was still.

9 In midst of dangers, fears, and death,
thy goodness I'll adore;

and praise thee for thy mercies past,
and humbly hope for more.

10 My life, if thou preserv'st my life,
thy sacrifice shall be;

and death, if death must be my doom,
shall join my soul to thee.

AN HYMN.

1 When rising from the bed of death,
o'erwhelm'd with guilt and fear,

I see my Maker face to face;
O how shall I appear!

2 If yet, while pardon may be found,
and mercy may be sought,

my heart with inward horror shrinks,
and trembles at the thought:

3 When thou, O Lord, shalt stand disclos'd in majesty severe,

and sit in judgment on my soul;

O how shall I appear!

4 But thou hast told the troubled soul,
who does her sins lament,
the timely tribute of her tears
shall endless woe prevent.

5 Then see the sorrows of my heart,
ere yet it be too late;

and add my Saviour's dying groans,
to give those sorrows weight.

6 For never shall my soul despair
her pardon to procure,
who knows Thy Only Son has dy'd
to make that pardon sure.

PARAPHRASE ON PSALM XXIII.

1 The Lord my pasture shall prepare,
and feed me with a shepherd's care;
his presence shall my wants supply,
and guard me with a watchful eye:
my noon-day walks he shall attend,
and all my midnight hours defend,
2 When in the sultry glebe I faint,
or on the thirsty mountain pant;
to fertile vales and dewy meads
my weary wandering steps he leads:

where peaceful rivers, soft and slow, amid the verdant landscape flow. 3 Tho' in the paths of death I tread, with gloomy horrors overspread, my stedfast heart shall fear no ill, for thou, O Lord, art with me still; thy friendly crook shall give me aid, and guide me through the dreadful shade. 4 Tho' in a bare and rugged way, through devious lonely wilds I stray, thy bounty shall my wants beguile, the barren wilderness shall smile, with sudden greens and herbage crown'd, and streams shall murmur all around.

CATO,

A TRAGEDY,

IN FIVE ACTS.

"Ecce spectaculum dignum, ad quod respiciat, intentus operi suo, Deus! Ecce par Deo dignum vir fortis cum malâ fortunâ compositus! Non video, inquam, quid habeat in terris Jupiter pulchrius, si convertere animum velit, quàm ut spectet Catonem, jam partibus non semel fractis, nihilominùs inter ruinas publicas erectum."

SEN. de Divin. Prov.