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From heaven this scale of virtue thus descends
By just degrees, and thy full choice defends.
So when in visionary trains, by night
Attending angels bless'd good Jacob's sight,
The mystic ladder thus appear'd to rise,
Its foot on earth, its summit in the skies.
CREATOR SPIRIT, by whose aid
The world's foundations first were laid,
Come visit every pious mind;
Come pour thy joys on human kind;
From sin and sorrow set us free,
And make thy temples worthy thee.
O source of uncreated light,
The Father's promised Paraclete!
Thrice holy fount, thrice holy fire,
Our hearts with heavenly love inspire;
Come, and thy sacred unction bring
To sanctify us, while we sing.
Plenteous of grace, descend from high,
Rich in thy sevenfold energy!
Thou strength of his Almighty hand,
Whose power does heaven and earth command.
Proceeding Spirit, our defence,
Who dost the gift of tongues dispense,
And crown'st thy gift with eloquence!
Refine and purge our earthly parts;
But, oh, inflame and fire our hearts!
Qur frailties help, our vice control,
Submit the senses to the soul;
And when rebellious they are grown,
Then lay thy hand and hold them down.
Chase from our minds th’ infernal foe,
And peace, the fruit of love, bestow;
And, lest our feet should step astray,
Protect and guide us in the way.
Make us eternal truths receive,
And practise all that we believe:
Give us thyself, that we may see
The Father, and the Son by thee.
Immortal honour, endless fame,
Attend th' Almighty Father's name:
The Saviour Son be glorified,
Who for lost man's redemption died:
And equal adoration be,
Eternal Paraclete to thee!
FASHIow, leader of a chatt'ring train, Whom man for his own hurt permits to reign, Who shifts and changes all things but his shape, And would degrade her vot'ry to an ape, The fruitful parent of abuse and wrong, Holds a usurp'd dominion o'er his tongue, There sits and prompts him with his own disgrace, Prescribes the theme, the tone, and the grimace, And when accomplish'd in her wayward school, Calls gentleman whom she has made a fool.
BELIEVE me, if all those endearing young charms,
Which I gaze on so fondly to-day, -
were to change by to-morrow, and fleetin my arms,
Like fairy-gifts, fading away!
Thou would'st still be adored, as this moment thou
art, Let thy loveliness fade as it will, And, around the dear ruin, each wish of my heart Would entwine myself verdantly still! It is not, while beauty and jo, are thine own, And thy cheeks unprofaned by a tear, That the fervour and faith of a soul can be known, To which time will but make thee more dear! Oh! the heart that has truly loved never forgets, But as truly loves on to the close, As the sun-flower turns to her god when he sets, The same look which she turn'd when he rose. MooRE.
A WIFE'S DEFENCE OF HER HUSBAND.
THAT's false! a truer, nobler, trustier heart,
More loving, or more loyal, never beat
Within a human breast. I would not change
My exiled, persecuted, mangled husband,
'o. but not disgraced, crush'd, overwhelm’d,
Alive, or dead, for prince or paladin
In story or in fable, with a world
To back his suit. Dishonour'd!—he dishonour'd!
I tell thee, doge, ’tis Venice is dishonour'd. B
SHE that would raise a noble love, must find
Ways to beget a passion for the mind;
She must be that which she to the world would
For all true love is grounded on esteem:
Plainness and truth gain more a generous heart,
Than all the crook'd subtleties of art.
FLATTERY ADDRESSED TO A GREAT POET.
THERE are, who to my person pay their court:
I cough like Horace, and, though lean, am short.
Ammon's great son one shoulder had too high,
Such Ovid's nose, and, sir! you have an eye!
Go on, obliging creature, make me see,
All that disgraced my betters, met in me;
Say, for my comfort, languishing in bed, |
Just so immortal Maro held his head;
And when I die, be sure you let me know,
Great Homer died three thousand years ago.
LIKE to the falling of a star:
Or as the flights of eagles are;
Or like the fresh spring's gaudy hue,
Or silver drops of morning dew;
Or like a wind that chafes the flood,
Or bubbles which on water stood ;
Even such is man, whose borrow'd light
Is straight call'd in, and paid to night.
The wind blows out, the bubble dies;
The spring entomb'd in autumn lies;
The dew dries up; the star is shot;
The flight is past; and man forgot.
REFLECT that life and death, affecting sounds,
Are only varied modes of endless being,
Reflect that life, like every other blessing,
Derives its value from its use alone;
Not for itself but for a nobler end
Th’ Eternal gave it, and that end is virtue.
When inconsistent with the greater good,
Reason commands to cast the less away;
Thus life, with loss of wealth, is well preserved,
And virtue cheaply saved with loss of life.
OH ! thou, whose garment is the light,
Whose throne the vaulted sky,
Who spread the curtains of the night,
And hung the stars on high:
Thou, at whose word Creation rose,
In all its bright array;
Though for our eyes no radiance glows,
No living waters play;
We waft the music of our hearts
In gratitude to thee;
For all the beams thy love imparts
Our minds can clearly see!
We see thee in thy sacred truth,
In inspiration told;
We see thy hand direct our youth,
And lead us weak and ...
We see thee on our mental eye
The light of science pour,
And for such blessings humbly try
To worship and adore.
Oh! Father, hear our feeble hymn—
Behold us while we pray—
And pierce these helpless orbs, so dim,
With thy celestial ray!