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My nodding Frame can scarce fustain

The bitter Load I undergo;

Speechless I sigh! the envious woe
Forbids the very Pleasure to complain;
Forbids my faltering Tongue to tell
What Pangs for thee I feel,
Lovely, unhappy Ifrael.

Yet tho' the Fig-tree shou'd no Blossoms bear,
Tho' Vines defeat the Promise of the Year;
Yet tho' the Olive shou'd not yield her Oil,
And the parch'd Glebe delude the Farmer's Toil;
Tho' the tir'd Ox beneath his Labours fall;
And pining Herds shou'd perish from the Stall;

Yet fhall my grateful Strings,

For ever praise thy Name,

For ever thee proclaim, Thee Everlasting God, the mighty King of Kings

Part of the XXXVIIIth and

XXXIXth Chapters of Job.


By the same. Hand.


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HEN from his bright Aëreal Abode,

[mighty rode, On Storms and Whirlwinds down th' AlAnd the loud Voice of Thunder spoke the God. He stretch'd his dark Pavilion o'er the Floods, Harness’d the Winds and rein’d the dusky Clouds. Then from his awful Gloom the Godhead spoke, And at his Voice affrighted Nature Phook.

Vain Man! who boldly, with dim Reason's Ray, Vies with his God, and rivals his full Day!


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But tell me now, say how this beauteous Frame
Of All things, from the Womb of Nothing came.
When Nature's Lord, by one Almighty Call,
From Nowhere rais’dthe World's Capacious Ball?
How the revolving Spheres amid the Sky
In Confort move, and sweetest Harmony?
Why the vast Tide sometimes with wanton Play
In soft Meanders gently glides away:
Anon, why swelling with impetuous Stores
Comes rowling down, and tumbles to the shores?
By thy Command does fair Aurora rise,
And gild with Purple Beams the blushing Skies?
The warbling Lark falutês her chearful Ray,
And welcomes with his Song the rising Day;
The rising Day Ambrofiai Dew distiís ;
Th’Ambrosiál Dew with balmy Odouts fills
The Flow'rs; the Flow'rs rejoice, and Nature


Why awful Night begins her solemn Round,
With all the Majesty of Darkness crown'd.
Now busie Nature lies diffus’d in Sleep,
Hush'd is the Land, and lull'd the peaceful Deep;
No Air of Breath disturbs the drowzy Woods,
No Whispers murmur from the silent Floods:
The silver Moon sheds down a trembling Light,
And glads the melancholy Face of Night.
The Stars in order twinkle in the Skies,
And fall in silence, and in silence rise.
'Till thro' the Gates of Light the radiant Sun
Issues, and leads the circling Minutes on;
His fiery Coursers bounding from the Main,
Hurry the Chariot thro' th' Ethereal Plain ;
The fiery Coursers and the Coach display
A stream of Glory, and a flood of Day.
Did e'er thy Eye descend into the Deep,
Or haft thou seen where infant Tempests feep?


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Was e'er the Grave or Regions of the Night
Yet trod by thee, or open'd to thy sight?
Has Death disclos’d to thee her gloomy State,
The ghastly Forms, the various Woes that wait
In terrible Array before her awful Gate?
Know'st thou where Darkness bears EternalSway,
Or where's the Source of everlasting Day?
Why Eurus fans the Eastern Regions, born.
Upon the Coursers of the balmy Morn?
Say, why sometimes the gentle Evening Breeze
Sleeps on the Waves, or murmurs thro' the Trees ;
Or why the Winds sometimes their Pinions trý,
Whisk o'er the Plain, and battel in the Sky?
On ruddy Wings why forky Lightning flies,
And rowling Thunder grumbles in the Skies?
Know'st thou why Comets threaten in the Air,
Heralds of Woes, Destruction, and Despair,
The Plague,the Sword,and all the Forms of War?

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