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If I meet with railing tongues,

Why should I return them railing, Since I beft revenge my wrongs

By my patience never failing?

When I hear them telling lies,
Talking foolish, curfing, fwearing;
First I'll try to make them wife,
Or I'll foon go out of hearing.

What though I be low and mean,
I'll engage the rich to love me,
While I'm modeft, neat and clean,
And fubmit when they reprove me.

If I fhould be poor and fick,

I shall meet, I hope, with pity, Since I love to help the weak,

Though they're neither fair nor witty.

I'll not willingly offend,

Nor be easily offended;

What's amifs I'll ftrive to mend,

And endure what can't be mended.

May I be fo watchful still

O'er my humours and my paffion,

As to speak and do no ill,

Though it fhould be all the fashion!

Wicked fashions lead to hell;

Ne'er

may I be found complying;

But in life behave fo well,

Not to be afraid of dying.

A SUMMER EVENING.

HOW fine has the day been, how bright was the fun,

How lovely and joyful the course that he run,
Though he rofe in a mist when his race he begun,
And there follow'd fome droppings of rain!
But now the fair traveller 's come to the West,
His rays are all gold, and his beauties are best;
He paints the sky gay as he finks to his reft,
And foretels a bright rifing again.

Juft fuch is the chriftian: His course he begins,
Like the fun in a mist, while he mourns for his fins,

And melts into tears: Then he breaks out and shines,
And travels his heavenly way:

But when he comes nearer to finish his race,

Like a fine fetting fun he looks richer in grace,
And gives a fure hope at the end of his days
Of rifing in brighter array.

Some

Some Copies of the following Hymn having got abroad already into feveral Hands, the Author has been perfuaded to permit it to appear in Public, at the End of these Songs for Children.

A CRADLE HY M N.

HUSH! my dear, lie ftill and slumber,

Holy angels guard thy bed!

Heavenly bleffings without number
Gently falling on thy head.

Sleep, my babe; thy food and raiment,
House and home thy friends provide ;

All without thy care or payment,

All thy wants are well fupply'd.

How much better thou 'rt attended
Than the Son of God could be,
When from heaven he defcended,
And became a child like thee?

Soft and eafy is thy cradle:

Coarfe and hard thy Saviour lay:
When his birth-place was a stable,
And his fofteft bed was hay,

Bleffed babe! what glorious features,
Spotlefs fair, divinely bright!
Muft he dwell with brutal creatures!

How could angels bear the fight?

Was

Was there nothing but a manger
Curfed finners could afford,
To receive the heavenly stranger!
Did they thus affront their Lord?

Soft my child;

I did not chide thee,

Though my fong might found too hard;

'Tis thy

* Mother

Nurfe that

}

fits befide thee,

And her arms fhall be thy guard. Yet to read the shameful story,

How the Jews abus'd their King, How they serv'd the Lord of glory, Makes me angry while I fing.

See the kinder fhepherds round him,

Telling wonders from the sky!

Where they fought him, there they found him,
With his Virgin Mother by.

See the lovely babe a-dreffing;
Lovely infant, how he fmil'd!
When he wept, the Mother's bleffing

Sooth'd and hush'd the holy child.

Lo, he flumbers in his manger,

Where the horned oxen fed;

Peace, my darling, here's no danger,

Here's no ox a-near thy bed.

*Here you may use the words, Brother, Sifter,

Neighhour, Friend, &c.

B b

'Twas

'Twas to fave thee, child, from dying,
Save my dear from burning flame,
Bitter groans and endless crying,
That thy bleft Redeemer came.

May't thou live to know and fear him,
Truft and love him all thy days;
Then go dwell for ever near him,
See his face, and fing his praife!

I could give thee thoufand kiffes,
Hoping what I most defire;
Not a Mother's fondest wishes
Can to greater joys afpire.

CON

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