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ADDRESS TO THE DEITY.

My God, I love and I adore!

But souls that love would know thee more.
Wilt thou for ever hide, and stand
Behind the labours of thy hand?
Thy hand, unseen, sustains the poles
On which this huge creation rolls:
The starry arch proclaims thy power,
Thy pencil glows in every flower:
In thousand shapes and colours rise
Thy painted wonders to our eyes;
While beasts and birds with labouring throats
Teach us a God in thousand notes.
The meanest pin in Nature's frame
Marks out some letter of thy name.
Where sense can reach or fancy rove,
From hill to hill, from field to grove,
Across the waves, around the sky,
There's not a spot, or deep or high,
Where the Creator has not trod,
And left the footstep of a God.

But are his footsteps all that we,
Poor groveling worms, must know or see?
Thou Maker of my vital frame!

Unveil thy face, pronounce thy name,

Shine to my sight, and let the ear

Which thou hast form'd the language hear.
Where is thy residence? Oh! why
Dost thou avoid my searching eye,

My longing sense? Thou Great unknown,
Say, do the clouds conceal thy throne?
Divide, ye clouds, and let me see
The Power that gives me leave to be.

Or, art thou all diffused abroad

Through boundless space, a present God,
Unseen, unheard, yet ever near!
What shall I do to find 'thee here?
Is there not some mysterious art
To feel thy presence at my heart?
To hear thy whispers soft and kind,
In holy silence of the mind?

Then rest my thoughts; nor longer roam
In quest of joy, for Heaven's at home.

But, oh! thy beams of warmest love;
Sure they were made for worlds above.
How shall my soul her powers extend,
Beyond where Time and Nature end,
To reach those heights, thy best abode,
And meet thy kindest smiles, my God?
What shall I do? I wait thy call;
Pronounce the word, my life, my all.
Oh, for a wing to bear me far
Beyond the golden morning star!
Fain would I trace the' immortal way
That leads to courts of endless day,
Where the Creator stands confess'd,
In his own fairest glories dress'd.
Some shining spirit help me rise,
Come, waft a stranger through the skies;
Bless'd Jesus, meet me on the road,
First offspring of the' Eternal God!
Thy hand shall lead a younger son,
Clothe me with vestures yet unknown,
And place me near my Father's throne.

WATTS.

TO THE ETERNAL PROVIDENCE.

LIFE of the world, Immortal Mind!
Father of all the human kind!

Whose boundless eye that knows no rest,
Intent on Nature's ample breast,
Explores the space of earth and skies,
And sees eternal incense rise!
To thee my humble voice I raise;
Forgive, while I presume to praise..
Though thou this transient being gave,
That shortly sinks into the grave;
Yet 'twas thy goodness still to give
A being that can think and live;
In all thy works thy wisdom see,
And stretch its towering mind to thee!
To thee my humble voice I raise;
Forgive, while I presume to praise.
And still this poor contracted span,
This life, that bears the name of Man,
From thee derives its vital ray,
Eternal Source of life and day!
Thy bounty still the sunshine pours,

That gilds its morn and evening hours:
To thee my humble voice I raise;

Forgive, while I presume to praise.

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Through Error's maze, through Folly's night, The lamp of Reason lends me light. When stern Affliction waves her rod, My heart confides in thee, my God! When Nature shrinks, oppress'd with woes, E'en then she finds in thee repose: To thee my humble voice I raise; Forgive, while I presume to praise.

VOL. I.

D

Affliction flies, and Hope returns;
Her lamp with brighter splendour burns;
Gay Love with all his smiling train,
And Peace and Joy are here again.
These, these, I know, 'twas thine to give;
I trusted; and, behold, I live!
To thee my humble voice I raise;
Forgive, while I presume to praise.

O, may I still thy favour prove!
Still grant me gratitude and love:
Let truth and virtue guide my heart;
Nor peace, nor hope, nor joy depart:
But yet, whate'er my life may be,
My heart shall still repose on thee!
To thee my humble voice I raise;
Forgive, while I presume to praise.

LANGHORNE.

THE NATIVITY.

"TWAS morn! the fields were sprinkled o'er with light,

The folds unpent sent out their flocks to feed:
A shepherd boy (young Thomalin he hight*),
With flying fingers deftly tuned his reed;
Where ancient Isis laves the Muses' mead,
(For ever smile the mead and flow the stream!)
He sung the birth of David's holy seed:

Though low his voice, full lofty was his theme;
Wightly his senses all were rapt into a dream.

Eftsoons he spied a grove, the season's pride, All in the centre of a pleasant glade,

Where Nature flourish'd like a virgin bride;

* Named or called.

+ Quickly.

Immediately.

Mantled with green, with hyacinths inlaid,
And crystal rills o'er beds of lilies stray'd;
The blue-eyed violet and kingcup gay,
And new blown roses, smiling sweetly red,
Outglow'd the blushing infancy of day,
While amorous west winds kiss'd their fragrant
souls away.

A rich pavilion rear'd within its height,
The capitals and friezes gold entire,
Glistening with carbuncles; a various light
Waved tremulous, and set the eye on fire.
A silken curtain, drawn on silver wire,
And tinged with colours of the summer sky,
Flow'd round, and bade the ruder gales retire.
Four forms attendant at the portals lie,

The same Ezekiel saw with keen prophetic eye.
Unlike, O, much unlike the strawy shed,
Where Mary, queen of heaven, in humbless* lay,
Where erst the Infant God reposed his head,
And deign'd to dwell in tenement of clay;
The clouded tabernacle of the day!

The shepherd's dream was mystical, I ween ‡,
Isaiah on his bosom pour'd a ray,

And painted to his eyes the gentle scene, [reign!
Where lions dandled lambs; O Peace, thy golden

High smiling in delight a lady sat,

Young as the dawning morn, on ivory throne;
Upon her looks the virgin virtues wait,
The virgin virtues wait on her alone!
Her sapphire eyes with gentle spirit shone :
Fair bountyhead was open'd in her face,
Of honour and of love the paragon §!

* Humility.

Í I think.

+ Formerly, sometime since.

The pattern or model.

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