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Strokes and tames my rabid grief,
And does woo me into life:
When my simple weakness strays,
Tangled in forbidden ways,
He, my Shepherd, is my guide,
He's before me, on my side,
And behind me, He beguiles
Craft in all her knotty wiles :
He expounds the giddy wonder
Of my weary steps, and under
Spreads a path clear as the day,
Where no churlish rub says nay
To my joy-conducted feet,
Whilst they gladly go to meet
Grace and Peace, to meet new lays
Tuned to my great Shepherd's praise.
Come now all ye terrors, sally,
Muster forth into the valley,
Where triumphant darkness hovers
With a sable wing, that covers
Brooding horror. Come thou, Death,
Let the damps of thy dull breath
Overshadow even the shade,
And make darkness' self afraid;
There my feet, even there shall find
Way for a resolvèd mind.
Still my Shepherd, still my God,

Thou art with me; still Thy rod,
And Thy staff, whose influence
Gives direction, gives defence.
At the whisper of Thy word



Crown'd abundance spreads my board :
While I feast, my foes do feed
Their rank malice, not their need ;
So that with the selfsame bread
They are starved, and I am fed.
How my head in ointment swims !
How my cup o'erlooks her brims !
So, even so still may I
By the line of Thy dear love;
Still may Thy sweet mercy spread
A shady arm above my head,
About my paths; so shall I find
The fair centre of my mind,
Thy temple, and those lovely walls
Bright ever with a beam that falls
Fresh from the pure glance of Thine eye,
Lighting to Eternity.
There I'll dwell for ever, there
Will I find a purer air.
To feed


life with, there I'll sup
Balm and nectar in my cup,
And thence my ripe soul will I breathe
Warm into the arms of death.

N the proud banks of great Euphrates' Hood

There we sat, and there we wept:

Our harps, that now no music understood, Nodding on the willows slept,

While unhappy captives we,
Lovely Sion, thought on thee.

They, they that snatch'd us from our country's breast

Would have a song carved to their ears
In Hebrew numbers, then, O cruel jest !
When harps and hearts were drown'd in tears :

Come, they cried, come, sing and play
One of Sion's songs to day.

Sing? play? to whom shall we sing or play

If not, Jerusalem, to thee?
Ah! thee, Jerusalem ; ah! sooner may

This hand forget the mastery

Of music's dainty touch, than I
The music of thy memory.

Which when I lose, O may at once my tongue

Lose this same busy speaking art,
Unperch'd, her vocal arteries unstrung,
No more acquainted with my heart,

On my dry palate's roof to rest
A wither'd leaf, an idle guest !

No, no, thy good, Sion, alone must crown

The head of all my hope-nursed joys.
But, Edom, cruel thou ! thou criedst, Down, down
Sink Sion, down, and never rise !

Her falling thou didst urge and thrust,
And haste to dash her into dust!

Dost laugh ? proud Babel's daughter! Do, laugh on,

Till thy ruin teach thee tears ;
Even such as these, laugh, till a 'venging throng

Of woes too late do rouse thy fears ;

Laugh, till thy children's bleeding bones
Weep precious tears upon the stones !


A Hymn of the Nativity, sung by the Shepherds.

OME, we shepherds whose blest sight

Hath met Love's noon in Nature's night;

Come, lift we up our loftier song, And wake the sun that lies too long.

To all our world of well-stol'n joy

He slept, and dreamt of no such thing,
While we found out Heaven's fairer eye,

And kiss'd the cradle of our King;
Tell him he rises now too late
To show us aught worth looking at.

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Tell him we now can show him more

Than he e'er show'd to mortal sight, Than he himself e'er saw before,

Which to be seen needs not his light: Tell him, Tityrus, where th' hast been, Tell him, Thyrsis, what th’ hast seen.

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Gloomy night embraced the place

Where the noble infant lay:
The babe look'd up, and show'd His face;


In spite of darkness it was day.

day of*t and day of

Not from the East, but from Thy eyes.

Chorus. It was Thy day, sweet, &c.

Winter chid aloud, and sent

The angry North to wage his wars :
The North forgot his fierce intent,

And left perfumes instead of scars.
By those sweet eyes' persuasive powers,
Where he meant frosts he scatter'd flowers.

Chorus. By those sweet eyes', &c.

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We saw Thee in Thy balmy nest,

Young dawn of our eternal day;
We saw Thine


break from the East,
And chase the trembling shades away:
We saw Thee, and we blest the sight,
We saw Thee by Thine own sweet light.

Poor world, said I, what wilt thou do

To entertain this starry stranger?
Is this the best thou canst bestow-

A cold and not too cleanly manger?
Contend, the powers of heaven and earth,
To fit a bed for this huge birth.

Chorus. Contend, the powers, &c.



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