O Queen of Albion, queen of isles! Since all thy tears were chang'd to smiles, The eyes, that never saw thee, shine With joy not unallied to thine, Transports not chargeable with art Illume the land's remotest part, And strangers to the air of courts, Both in their toils and at their sports, The happiness of answer'd pray'rs, That gilds thy features, show in theirs. If they, who on thy state attend, Awe-struck, before thy presence bend, 'Tis but the natural effect, Of grandeur that ensures respect; VOL. XXXVII. HYMN, FOR THE USE OF THE SUNDAY SCHOOL AT OLNEY. HEAR, Lord, the song of praise and pray'r, Thanks for thy word, and for thy day, And grant us, we implore, Never to waste in sinful play Thy holy sabbaths more. Thanks that we hear,-but O impart That we may listen with our heart, For if vain thoughts the minds engage What hope, that, at our heedless age, Much hope, if thou our spirits take Wisdom and bliss thy word bestows, A sun that ne'er declines, And be thy mercies show'r'd on those Who plac'd us where it shines STANZAS Subjoined to the Yearly Bill of Mortality of the Pallida Mors æquo pulsat pede pauperum tabernas, Regumque turres. HORACE. Pale Death with equal foot strikes wide the door WHILE thirteen moons saw smoothly run All these, life's rambling journey done, Was man (frail always) made more frail Did famine or did plague prevail, No; these were vig'rous as their sires, This annual tribute Death requires, Like crowded forest-trees we stand, The axe will smite at God's command, And soon shall smite us all. Composed for John Cox, parish clerk of Northampton. Green as the bay-tree, ever green, The gay, the thoughtless, have I seen, Read, ye that run, the awful truth, No present health can health insure No medicine, though it oft can cure, And O! that humble as my lot, And scorn'd as is my strain, These truths, though known, too much forgot, I may not teach in vain. So prays your clerk with all his heart, And ere he quits the pen, Begs you for once to take his part, P 2 |