That man fhall flourish like the trees The fruitful top is spread on high, But he whofe bloffom buds in guilt And like the rootlefs ftubble toft, For why? that GOD the good adore A PRAYER, Under the Preffure of Violent Anguish. O THOU great Being! what Thou art Surpaffes me to know: Yet fure I am, that known to Thee Are all Thy works below. Thy Thy creature here before Thee stands, All wretched and diftreft ; Yet fure thofe ills that wring my foul Obey Thy high behest. Sure Thou, Almighty, canst not act O, free my weary eyes from tears, But if I must afflicted be, To fuit fome wife defign; Then, man my foul with firm refolves THE THE FIRST SIX VERSES OF THE NINETIETH PSAL M. O Thou, the first, the greatest friend Of all the human race! Whofe ftrong right hand has ever been Before Before the mountains heav'd their heads Beneath Thy forming hand, Before this pond'rous globe itself, Arofe at Thy command; That Pow'r which rais'd and still upholds This univerfal frame, From countless, unbeginning time Was ever ftill the fame. Those mighty periods of years Which feem to us fo vaft, Appear no more before Thy fight Thou giv'ft the word: Thy creature, man, Is to existence brought; Again Thou fay'ft, Ye fons of men, < Return ye into nought!' Thou |