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My God, I hate to walk or dwell

What do I read my Bible for,
With sinful children here :

But, Lord, to learn thy will?
Then let me not be sent to hell,

And shall I daily know thee more,
Where none but sinners are.

And less obey thee ftill?

How senseless is my heart, and wild ? $ 75. Against Pride in Clothes. Watts.

How vain are all my thoughts !
Why should our garments, made to hide

Pity the weakness of a child,
Our parents' shame, provoke our pride ? And pardon all my faults.
The art of dress did ne'er begin
Till Eve, our mother, learnt to fin.

Make me thy heav'nly voice to hear,

And let me love to pray;
When first she put the cov'ring on,

Since God will lend a gracious ear
Her robe of innocence was gone ;

To what a child can say.
And yet her children vainly boast
In the fad marks of glory loft.
How proud we are ! how fond to shew

78. A Morning and Evening Song. Wat Our clothes, and call them rich and new!

Morning Song
When the poor theep and filkworm wore

My God, who makes the sun to know
That very clothing long before.

His proper hour to rise,
The tulip and the butterfly

And to give light to all below,
Appear in gayer cuats than 1:

Doth lend him round the lies.
Let me be drest fine as I will,

When from the chambers of the east
Flies, worms, and flow'rs, exceed me ftill.

His morning race begins,
Then will I set my heart to find

He never tires, nor stops to rest,
Inward adornings of the mind;

But round the world he shines.
Knowledge and virtue, truth and grace:

So, like the sun, would I fulfil
These are the robes of richest dress.

The bus'ness of the day :
No more shall worms with me compare ; Begin my work betimes, and still
This is the raiment angels wear;

March on my heav'nly way.
The Son of God, when here below,

Give me, O Lord, thy early grace,
Put on this blest apparel too.

Nor let my soul complain
It never fades, it ne'er grows old;

That the young morning of my days
Nor fears the rain, nor moth, nor mould:

Has all been spent in vain !
It takes no spot, but still refines ;
The more 'tís worn, the more it shines.

Evening Song
In this on earth would I appear,

And now another day is gone,
Then go to heav'n and wear it there,

I'll sing my Maker's praise:
God will approve it in his fight;

My comforts ev'ry hour make known, 'Tis his own work, and his delight.

His providence and grace.

But how my childhood runs to waste! $76. Obedience to Parents. Watts.

My sins, how great their sum!
Ler children that would fear the Lord

Lord, give me pardon for the past,
Hear what their teachers say;

And strength for days to come.
With rev'rence meet their parent's word,
And with delight obey.

I lay my body down to sleep;
Have you not heard what dreadful plagues

Let angels guard my head,

And through the hours of darkness keep
Are threaten'd by the Lord,

Their watch around my best.
To him that breaks his father's law,
Or mocks his mother's word?

With cheerful heart I close my eyes,

Since thou wilt not remove;
What heavy guilt upon him lies!
How cursed is his name !

And in the morning let me rite,
The ravens shall pick out his eyes,

Rejoicing in thy love.
And eagles eat the same.
But those wlio worship God, and give $ 79. For the Lord's Day Morning. Watt

Their parents honour due,
Here on this earth they long Mall live,

This is the day when Christ arose
And live hereafter too.

So early from the dead;

Why should I keep my eye-lids clos'd, $77. The Child's Complaint. Watts.

And waste my hours in bed ?
WHY nould I love my sport so well, This is the day when Jesus broke
Su conttant at my play,

The pow'r of death and hell?
And lote the thoughts of heav'n and hell, And thall I fill wear Satan's yoke,
And then forget to pray?

And love iny Sins so well?


Today with pleasure Chritians meet If we had been ducks, we might dabble in mudy To prap , and hear the word:

Or dogs, we might play till it ended in blood; And I would go with cheertul feet

So foul and so fierce are their natures : To learn thy will, O Lord.

But Thornas and William,andsuch prettynames, I'll leave my sport to read and pray,

Should be cleanly and harmless as doves or as And fo prepare for heaven;

Those lovely sweet innocent creatures. (lambs, O may I love this blessed day

Not a thing that we do, nor a word that we say, The beft of all the seven!

Should hinder another in jesting or play ;

For he's still in earnest that's hurt : [mire !

How rude are the boys that throw pebbles and $80. For the Lord's Day Evening. Watts. There's none but a madman willAing about fire, LORD, how delightful 'tis to see

And tell you “ 'Tis all but in sport."
A whole affembly worship thee !
At once they fing, at once they pray;

$ 83. The Rose. Watts. They hear of beav'n, and learn the way.

How fair is the Rose! what a beautiful flow's! I have been there, and fill would go ;

The glory of April and May! 'Tis like a little heav'n below :

But the leaves are beginning to fade in an hour, Not all my pleasure and my play

And they wither and die in a day. Shall tempt me to forget this day.

Yet the rose has one powerful virtue to boast, O write upon my memory, Lord,

Above all the flowʻrs of the field: [lost, The texts and doctrines of thy word;

When its leaves are all dead, and fine colours are That I may break thy laws no more,

Still how sweet a perfume it will yield !
Bar love thee better than before.
With thoughts of Christ
, and things divine,

So frail is the youth and the beauty of men,

Tho' they bloom and look gay like the rose; Fill up this foolih heart of mine;

But all our fond care to preserve them is vain;
Tiut, hoping pardon thro' his blood,
I onay lie down and wake with God.

Time kills them as falt as he goes.
Then I'll not be proudof my youth or mybeauty,

Since both of them wither and fade;
81. The Sluggard, Watis.

But gain a good name by well doing my duty: 'Tis the voice of a luggard-1 heard him

This will scent like a rose when I'm dead." complain, • You have wak'd me too soon, I must number


$84. The Thief. Watts, As the door on its hinges, so lie on his bed[head. Why should i deprive my neighbour Turns his fides and his Moulders, and his heavy

Of his goods against his will

? "A little more lieep and a little more Number." Hands were made for honest labour, Thus he waltes half his days, and his hours

Not to plunder or to steal.

'Tis a foolish self-deceiving, And when he gets up, he fits folding his hards,

By such tricks to hope for gain :
Or walks about fauntring, or trifling he stands. All that's ever got by thieving
I pafs d by his garden and saw the wild brier,

Turns to sorrow, thame, and pain.
The thorn & the thitle grow broader & higher; Have not Eve and Adam taught us
The clotbes thathang onhim are turning to rags;

Their fad profit to compute?
And bismoneyfill wastes,till heitarvesur hebegs To what dismal itate they brought us,
I made him a visit, ftill hoping to find

When they stole forbidden fruit!
He had took better care for improving his mind; Oft we see a young beginner
But be carce reads his Bible, and never loves Till grown up a hardend finner:

Then the gallows ends his days. faid I eben to my heart

, “ Here's a lesson for me; Theft will not be always hidden, That man's but a picture of what I might be;

Though we fancy none can lpy: Bat thanks to my friends for their care in my when we take a thing forbidden,

[reading!" God beholds it with his eye. Who taught me betimes to love working and Guard my heart, O God of heaven,

Left I covet what's not mine; ! iz Innocent Play. Watts. Left I steal what is not given, Road in the meadows, tosee the younglambs,

Guard my heart and hands from sin.
Run Oporting about by the side of their dams,
With flects so clean and so white ;

$ 85.

The Ant, or Emmet. Watts. 42 Deft of young doves in a large open cage, These emmets, hɔwlittle they are in our eyes! Where theyplayall in love, without anger or rage; We tread them to dult, and a troop of them How much we may can from the ligh!



without number;



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Without our regard or concern:

May I be so watchful still
Yet as wise as we are, if we went to their school, o'er my humours and my passion,
There's many a fuggard. and many a fool, As to speak and do no ill,
Some lessons of wisdom might learn.

Though it should be all the fashion
Theydon'twear their time out insleeping or play, Wicked falhions lead to hell;
But gather up corn in a sun-lhiny day. Ne'er may I be found complyingi

And for winter they lay up their stores : But in life behave so well,
They manage their work in such regular forms, Not to be afraid of dying.
One would think they fore law all the frosts and
the storms,

$ 87. A Summer Evening. Watts. And so brought their food within doors. How fine has the day been, how bright » But I have less sense than a poor creeping ant,

the sun, If I take not due care for the things I shall want, How lovely and joyful the course that he ru Nor provide againft dangers in time :

Though he role in a milt whenhis race he begi When death or old age thall stare in my face,

And there followed some droppings of rai What a wretch shall i be in the end of my days, But now the fair traveller's come to the wel

His If I trifle away all their prime!

rays all are gold, and his beauties are be Now, now, while my strengil and my youth are

He paints the sky gay as hè finks to his rest,

And foretels a bright rising again. in bloom,

[shall come, Let me think what will serve me when ficknets Juft such is the Christian: his course he begi And pray that my sins be forgiven :

Like the sun in a miit,whenhemourns for hissu Let me read in good books,and believe and obey,

And melts into tears; thenhe breaks out &thin That, when death turns me out of this cottage

And travels his heavenly way: I may dwell in a palace in heaven. (of clay, But, when he comes nearer to finish his race

Like a fine setting fun, he looks richer in grai

And gives a sure hope at the end of his day $ 86. Good Resolutions. Watts. Of rising in brighcer array! THOUGH I am now in younger days, Nor can tell what shall befal me,

§ 88. Cradle Hymn, Watts. I'll prepare for ev'ry place

HUSH! my dear, lie still and flumber, Where my growing age Mall call me.

Holy angels guard thy bed! Should I e'er be rich or great,

Heav'nly blengs, without number, Others shall partake my goodness ;

Gently falling on thy head. I'll supply the poor with meat,

Sleep, my babe! thy food and raiment, Never ihewing scorn or rudeness.

House and home, thy friends provide; Where I see the blind or lame,

All without thy care or payment, Deaf or dumb, I'll kindly treat them; All thy wants are well supplied. I deserve to feel the same;

How inuch better thou'rt attended If I mock, or hurt, or cheat them.

Than the Son of God could be; If I meet with railing tongues,

When froin heav'n he descended,
Why should I return them railing?

And became a child like thee!
Since I belt revenge iny wrongs
By my patience never failing.

Soft and easy is thy cradle,

Coarse and hard tby Saviour lay; When I hear them telling lies,

When his birth-place was a stable,
Talking foolish, cursing, Iwearing;

And his softest bed was hay.
First I'll try to make them wise,
Or I'll foon go out of hearing.

Blessed babe! what glorious features
What though I lie low and mean,

Spotless fair! divinely bright!

Muit he dwell with brutal creatures !
I'll engage the rich to love me,
While I'm modeft, neat and clean,

How could angels bear the right?
And subrnit when they reprove me.

Was there nothing but a manger If I should be poor and sick,

Cursed linners could afford, I hal meet, I hope, with pity ;

To receive the heav'nly stranger ? Since I love to help the weak,

Did they thus affront their Lord ! Though they're neither fair ror witty.

Soft, my child! I did not chide thee, I'll not willingly offend,

Though my song might sound too hard ! Nor be easily offended :

'Tis thy {

mother What's amiss 'l'll strive to niend,

nurse that

} lits befide thee, And endure what can't be mended. And her arms thall be thy guard.

• Here you may use the words Broiber, Sifter, Neighbour, Friend, &c.


Yet to read the snameful story,

Ye angels, that with loud acclaim
How the Jews abus'd their King, Admiring view'd the new-born frame,
Hos they letv'd the Lord of glory,

And hail'd the Eternal King,
Mates me angry while I fing.

Again proclaim yonr Maker's praise;
See the kinder shepherds round him, Again your thankful voices raise,

And touch the tuneful ftring.
Telling wonders from tbe sky!
Where they fought him. there they found him, Praise him, ye blest æthereal plains,
With his Virgin mother by.

Where, in full majesty, he deigns
See the lovely babe a-dreifing,

To fix his awful throne:
Lovely Infant, bow be fmild!

Ye waters that above him roll,
When he wifi, tbe Muther's blessing From orb to orb, from pole to pole,
Soothid and buth d the holy child.

O make his praises known!
Lo, be dangers in his manger,

Ye thrones, dominions, virtues, pow'rs,
Waste de crued oxen fed :

Join ye your joyful fongs with ours;
Peace, my darling, bere's no danger,

With us your voices raise;
Here 's no ox a-near thy bed.

From age to age extend the lay, 'I was to save thee, child, from dying,

To Heaven's Eternal Monarch pay
Site my dear from burning faine,

Hymns of eternal praise.
Bitzgruinis, and endless crying,

Celestial orb! whose powerful ray That tay bleft Redeemer came.

Opes the glad eyelids of the day, Narit thou live to know and fear him,

Whoie influence all things own; Truft and love him all thy days;

Praise him, whose courts effulgent (hine 'Tiango detil for ever near him,

With light as far excelling thine,
See his face, and fing his praise!

As thine the paler moon.
I could give thee thousand kisses,

Ye glitt'ring planets of the sky,
Hoping wizat I mut delire;
Nct a mother's fondest wishes

Whose lamps the absent sun supply,

With him the song pursue; Can to greater joys aspire.

And let himself submissive own,

He borrows from a brighter Sun ( 89. The Next Dimitis. Merrick. The light he lends to you. Tis enough-the hour is come:

Ye show'rs and dews, whose moisture thed
Calls into life the op’ning seed,

To him your praises yield,
Whofe influence wakes the genial birth,
Drops fatness on the pregnant earth,

And crowns the laughing field.
Ye winds, that oft tempestuous sweep

The ruffled surface of the deep,
Sees the day-fpring froin on high!

With us confess your God;
See thro' the heav'ns the King of kings,
Upborne on your expanded wings,

Come flying all abroad.
Tinae whom death had overipread

Ye floods of fire, where'er ye flow, Win his dark and dreary tales

With just submission humbly bow
Lit ter eres, and from afar

To his superior pow'r,
Who stops the tempelt on its way,
Or bids the flaming deluge tray,

And gives it itrength to roar.
Set the bearms, intensely thed,
Stink der Sion's favour'd head !

Ye summer's heat, and winter's cold,

By turns in long succession rollid,
God of twth, and God of love!
they hence remove,

The drooping world to cheer,
Praise him who gave the fun and moon

To lead the various seasons o!!, go. The Benedicite paraphrased. Merrick,

And guide the circling year.
In earth his footstool, heav'n his throne,
on him alone,

Ye frosts, that bind the wat’ry plain,
Ye filent show'rs of fleecy rain,

Puríue the heav'nly theme;
Vanhat band the beauteous fabric made,
your praise bestow'd;

Praise him who sheds the driving snow, Wiole me the finish'd work survey'd,

Forbids the harden'd waves to How, And Lu that all was good.

And stops the rapid stream.


Now within the silent tomb
Let this mortal frame decay,
Mingled with its kindred clay ;
Since thy mercies, cít of old
By thy cholen icers foretold,
Faithal now and frdfast prove,
God of truth, and God of love!
Since at length my aged eye
Son of righteousness

, to thee,
Lo! the nations bow the knee;
And the realms of disant kings
Dwn the healing of thy wings.

Hal the light of Jacob's Star; Wating til the promis'd ray Tam their darkness into day;


Yi works of God,

Be all


Ye days and nights, that swiftly borne Praise him, ye beasts, that nightly roam
From morn to eve, from eve to morn, Amid the folitary gloom,
Alternate glide away,

Th' expected prey to seize;
Praise hin, whose never-varying light, Ye Naves of the laborious plough,
Ablent, adds horror to the night,

Your stubborn necks submissive bow, But, present, gives the day.

And bend your wearied knees. Light, from whose rays all beauty springs ; Ye fons of men, his praise display, Darkness, whose wide-expanded wings Who Namp'a his image on your clay, Involve the dusky globe;

And gave it pow's to move ; Praise him who, when the heav'ns he Spread, Ye that in Judal's confines dwell, Darkness his thick pavilion made,

From age to age successive tell And light his regal robe.

The wonders of his love. Praise him, ye lightnings, as ye fly

Let Levi's tribe the lay prolong, Wing'd with his vengeance thro' the sky, Till angels listen to the song, And red with wrath divine ;

And bend attentive down; Praise him, ye clouds that wand'ring stray, Let wonder seize the heavenly train, Or, fix'd by him, in close array

Pleas'd while they hear a mortal strain Surround his awful shrine.

So sweet, so like their own.
Exalt, o Earth! thy Heav'nly King, And you your thankful voices join,
Who bids the plants that form the ipring That oft at Salem's sacred thrine
With annual verdure bloom;

Before his altars kneel;
Whofe frequent drops of kindly rain, Where thron'd in majesty he dwells,
Prolific swell the rip'ning grain,

And from tlıy myitic cloud reveals
And bless thy fertile womb.

The dictates of his will. Ye mountains; that ambitious rise,

Ye fpirits of the just and good, And heave your lummits to the skies,

That, eager for the blets d abode, Revere his awful nod;

To heavenly mansions foar; Think how you once affrighted Aled;

O let your longs liis praise display, When Jordan fought his fountain-head, Till heaven itself shall melt away, And own'd the approaching God.

And time mall be no more! Ye trees, that fill the tural scene;

Praise him, ye meek and humble train, Ye flow'rs, that o'er the enamellid green Ye faints, whom his decrees ordain In native beauty reign;

The boundlets blits to share ; O praise the Ruler of the skies,

O praise him, till ye take your way Whose hand the genial sap supplies,

To regions of eternal day, And clothes the smiling plain.

And reign for ever there. Ye fecret springs, ye gentle rills,

Let us, who now impassive stand, That murm'ring rise among the hills, Aw'd by the tyrant's stern command, Or hill the humble vale;

Amid the fiery blaze; Praise him, at whose Almighty nod

While thus we triumph in the flame, The rugged roek diffolving flow'd,

Rise, and our Maker's love proclaim, And form’d a fpringing well.

In hymns of endless praise. Praise him, ye floods, and seas profound, Whose waves the spacious earth furround, $91. The Ignorance of Mar. Merrick. And roll from thore to shore;

BEHOLD yon new-born infant griev'd Aw'd by his voice, ye seas, sublide;

With hunger, thirst, and pain; Ye floods, within your channels glide,

That alks to have the wants reliev'd, And tremble and adore.

It knows not to complain. Ye whalés, that stir the boiling deep,

Aloud the speechless fuppliant cries, Or in its dark recesses fleep,

And utters, as it can, Remote from human eye,

The woes that in its bosom rise, Praise him by whom ye all are fed;

And speak its nature-man. Praise him, without whose heavenly aid That infant, whose advancing hour Ye languish, faint, and die.

Life's various forrows try Ye birds, exally our Maker's name;

(Sad proof of fin's transmissive pow'r), Begin, and with th' important theme

That infant, Lord, am I. Your artlets lays improve ;

A childhood yet my thoughts confess, Wake with your songs the riling day,

Though long in years mature; Let music found on ev'ry spray,

Unknowing whence I feel distress, And fill the vocal grove.

Arld where, or what, its cure.


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