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Wicked fashions lead to hell;
Ne'er may I be found complying ; But in life behave so well,
Not to be afraid of dying.
A SUMMER EVENING.
How fine has the day been, how bright was the sun,
How lovely and joyful the course that he run, Though he rose in a mist when his race he begun,
And there follow'd some 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 rest,
And foretels a bright rising again.
And travels his heavenly way :
of rising in brighter array.
Some Copies of the following Hymn having got
abroad already into several Hands, the Author has been persuaded to permit it to appear in Public, at the End of these Songs for Chil. dren.
A CRADLE HY M N.
HUSH! my dear, lie fill and flumber,
Holy angels guard thy bed!
Gently falling on thy head.
House and home thy friends provide ;
All thy wants are well supply'd. How much better thou 'rt attended
Than the Son of God could be, When from heaven he descended,
And became a child like thee? Soft and easy is thy cradle :
Coarse and hard thy Saviour lay: When his birth-place was a stable,
And his softest bed was hay, Blessed babe! what glorious features,
Spotless fair, divinely bright! Muit he dwell with brutal creatures !
How could angels bear the fight?
Was there nothing but a manger
Cursed sinners could afford,
Did they thus affront their Lord ?
* Mother 'Tis thy
fits beside thee,
How the Jews abus’d their King,
Makes me angry while I fing.
Telling wonders from the sky !
With his Virgin Mother by.
Lovely infant, how he fmil'd! When he wept, the Mother's blessing
Sooth'd and hushid the holy child.
Where the horned oxen fed ;
Here is no ox a-near thy bed.
* Here you may use the words, Brother, Sister, Nsighhour, Friend, &c. въ
'Twas to save thee, child, from dying,
dear from burning flame,
and endless crying, That thy blest Redeemer came.
May'st thou live to know and fear him,
Trust and love him all thy days ; Then
dwell for ever near him, See his face, and sing his praise !
I could give thee thousand kisses,
Hoping what I most defire; Not a Mother's fondest wishes
Can to greater joys aspire.
C ο Ν Τ Ε Ν Τ S.
V ERSES on reading Mr. Watts's Poems, sacred to Piety and Devotion
3 To Mr. Watts, on his Poenis
3 To Mr. Watts, on reading his Horæ Lyricæ
5 To Mr. Watts, on his Divine Poems 9
To Dr. Watts, on the fifth Edition of his Horæ Lyricæ Preface
Β Ο Ο Κ Ι.
39 Alking Leave to Sing,
41 Divine Judgments,
42 Earth and Heaven,
44 Felicity above, Gad's Dominion and Decrees,
47 Self Consecration,
49 The Creator and Creatures,
50 God glorious, and Sinners saved,
53 The humble Enquiry,
54 The Penitent pardoned, Hymn of Praise for three great Salvations, The Incomprehensible,
59 Death and Eternity,
60 B b 2