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If still the sun should hide his face,
Thy house would but a dungeon prove,
Thy works night's captives: O let grace

Drop from above.

The dew doth every morning fall,
And shall the dew outstrip thy love?
The dew, for which grass cannot call,

Drop from above.

Death is still working like a mole,
And digs my grave at each remove :
Let grace work too, and on my soul

Drop from above.

a

Sin is still hammering my heart
Unto a hardness void of love:
Let suppling grace to cross his art

Drop from above.

O come! for thou dost know the

way: Or if to me thou wilt not move, Remove me where I need not say—

“Drop from above.”

HERBERT.

PROVIDENCE.

O SACRED Providence, who from end to end
Strongly and sweetly movest I shall I write,
And not of thee, through whom my fingers bend
To hold my quill ? shall they not do thee right?

Of all the creatures both in sea and land,
Only to man thou hast made known thy ways,
And put the pen alone into his hand,
And made him secretary of thy praise.
Beasts fain would sing; birds warble to their notes;
Trees would be tuning on their native lute
To thy renown; but all their hands and throats
Are brought to man, while they are lame and mute.
We all acknowledge both thy power and love
To be exact, transcendent, and divine;
Who dost so strongly and so sweetly move,
While all things have their will, yet none but thine.

For either thy command or thy permission
Lays hands on all: they are thy right and left;
The first puts on with speed an expedition ;
The other curbs sin's stealing pace and theft.

Nothing escapes them both: all must appear, And be disposed, and dressed, and tuned by thee, Who sweetly temperest all. If we could hear Thy skill and art, what music would it be?

Thou art in small things great, not small in any:
Thy even praise can neither rise nor fall,
Thou art in all things one, in each thing many:
For thou art infinite in one, and all.

Thy cupboard serves the world; the meat is set
Where all may reach: no beast but knows his feed.
Birds teach us hawking; fishes have their net:
The great prey on the less; they on some weed.

Each creature hath a wisdom for his good.
The pigeons feed their tender offspring, crying,
When they are callow; but withdraw their food
When they are fledged, that need may teach them flying.
Bees work for man; and yet they never bruise
Their master's flower, but leave it, having done,
As fair as ever, and as fit for use:
So both the flower doth stay, and honey run.
E'en poisons praise thee. Should a thing be lost?
Should creatures want, for want of heed, their due?
Since where are poisons, antidotes are most;
The help stands close, and keeps the fear in view.
And as thy house is full, so I adore
Thy curious art in marshalling thy goods.
The hills with health abound, the vales with store:
The south with marble; north with furs and woods.
Sometimes thou dost divide thy gifts to man,
Sometimes unite. The Indian nut alone
Is clothing, meat and trencher, drink and can,
Boat, cable, sail, and needle, all in one.
But who hath praise enough? nay, who hath any ?
None can express thy works, but he that knows them;
And none can know thy works, which are so many,
And so complete, but only he that owes them.
All things that are, though they have several ways,
Yet in their being join with one advice
To honour thee: and so I give thee praise
In all my other hymns, but in this twice.

HERBERT.

HEAVEN.

And are

O who will shew me those delights on high?
Echo.

I.
Thou, Echo? thou art mortal, all men know.
Echo.

No.
Wert thou not born among the trees and leaves ?
Echo.

Leaves.
there
any

leaves that still abide ? Echo.

Abide.
What leaves are they? impart the matter wholly.
Echo.

Holy.
Are holy leaves the echo then of bliss ?
Echo.

Yes.
Then tell me, What is that supreme delight?
Echo.

Light.
Light to the mind: What shall the will enjoy ?
Echo.

Joy. But are there cares and business with the pleasure? Echo.

Leisure. Light, Joy, and Leisure. But shall they last for ever? Echo.

Ever. HERBERT.

FROM CAROLINE FRY'S SELECTION.

“ I am with thee."

ALONE! ah, no- I can with holy fear,
With joy reflect my God is present here---
Here in His glory, though now veiled to sense-
Here in the mystery of His providence-

Here, O my soul, in wisdom to direct-
Here, with His mighty power, to protect-
Here in the riches of His grace to bless,
And to surround thee with His faithfulness-
Here in the depth of His unfathomed love,
And truth, the pillar of His throne above-
Here, in His majesty, while Mercy's wings
Temper the splendour of the King of kings.
Jesus is here—and thou mayest freely claim
All that is wrapt in that most hallowed Name-
Jehovah! Saviour! and delighted trace
Thy Father's kindness in thy Saviour's face.
It is in Him God's truth and mercy meet ;
His righteousness in which thou art complete;
He is the Sun that beams upon thy head
He is the Shield, above, around thee spread ;
The Spirit of His holiness is thine;
And in thy heart His rays of glory shine.
God with thy heart must ever present be,
If thou in Christ art dwelling, Christ in thee.
O solemn, sacred, sweet assurance this!
O blessed earnest of eternal bliss !
Alone I never am, for God is here;
My praise, my confidence, my joy, my fear:
Alone I cannot be, for thou, O Lord,
My glorious portion and my high reward,
Art ever with me; and by day, by night,
Alone, or in society, thy light,
Thy love, I see, I feel within my breast;
And if my God is with me, I am blest.

IOTA.

E

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