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Yet not to earth's contracted span

Thy goodness let me bound, Or think thee Lord alone of man,

When thousand worlds are round :

Let not this weak, unknowing hand

Presume thy bolts to throw, And deal damnation round the land,

On each I judge thy foe.

If I am right, thy grace impart,

Still in the right to stay : If I am wrong, oh teach my

heart To find that better way.

Save me alike from foolish pride,

Or impious discontent,
At aught thy wisdom has deny'd,

Or aught thy goodness lent.

Teach me to feel another's woe,

To hide the fault I fee;
That
mercy

I to others show
That
mercy

Thow

Mean tho' I am, not

Since quick’ned
O lead me wherefoe'er .

Thro' this day's 19

This day, be bread and peace my lot :

All else beneath the sun,
Thou know'st if best bestow'd or not,

And let thy will be done.

To thee, whose temple is all space,

Whose altar, earth, fea, skies! One chorus let all being raise !

All nature's incense rise !

NIGHT

ADAM's MORNING HYMN.

T

HESE are thy glorious works, parent of good,

Almighty, thine this universal frame, Thus wondrous fair; thyself how wondrous then! Unspeakable, who fitt'st above these heat'ns, To us invisible, or dimly seen In these thy lowest works; yet these declare Thy goodness beyond thought, and pow'r divine. Speak ye who best can tell, ye sons of light, Angels; for ye behold him, and with songs And choral symphonies, day without night, Circle his throne rejoicing ; ye in heav'n, On earth join all ye creatures to extol Him first, him last, him midit, and without end. Fairest of stars, last in the train of night, If better thou belong not to the dawn, Sure pledge of day, that crown'st the smiling morn With thy bright circlet, praise him in thy sphere, While day arises, that sweet hour of prime. Thou fun, of this great world both eye and soul, Acknowledge him thy greater : found his praise In thy eternal course, both when thou climb'it, And when high noon haft gain’d, and when thou fall'ít. Moon, that now meet'it the orient sun, now fly'st

With the fix'd stars, fix'd in their orb that flies;
And ye five other wand'ring fires that move
In mystic dance not without song, resound
His praise, who out of darkness call'd up light.
Air, and ye elements, the eldeft birth
Of nature's womb, that in quaternion run
Perpetual circle, multiform ; and mix,
And nourish all things ; let your ceaseless change
Vary to our great Maker still new praise.
Ye mifts and exhalations that now rise
From hill or steaming lake, dusky or gray,
Till the sun paint your fleecy kirts with gold,
In honour to the world's great Author rise,
Whether to deck with clouds th' uncolour'd sky,
Or wet the thirsty earth with falling showers,
Rising or falling still advance his praise.
His praise, ye winds, that from four quarters blow,
Breathe soft or loud; and wave your tops, ye pines,
With every plant, in sign of worship wave.
Fountains, and ye, that warble, as ye flow,
Melodious murmurs, warbling tune his praise,
Join voices all ye living fouls; ye birds,
That singing up to heaven-gate ascend,
Bear on your-wings and in your notes his praise.
Ye that in waters glide, and ye that walk
The earth, and stately tread, or lowly creep ;
Witness if I be silent, morn or even,

To hill, or valley, fountain, or fresh shade,
Made vocal by my song, and taught his praisc.
Hail universal Lord, be bounteous still
To give us only good; and if the night
Have gather'd ought of evil, or conceal'd,
Disperse it, as now light difpels the dark.

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