LVII. EARLY RISING. OFT flumbers now mine eyes forfake, Thou filent murderer, floth, no more Nor let me wafte another hour Think, O my foul, could dying men Though spent in tears, and paffed in pain, But feas of pearls, and mines of gold, Lord, when Thy day of dread account, Teach me in health each good to prize, And every pleasure to despise, I then fhall worthlefs deem. For all Thy wondrous mercies past, While thus I quit my bed of reft, Creation's Lord to praise. HANNAH MOORE. LVIII. HOLY SCRIPTURE. ON cottager, who weaves at her own Pillow and bobbins all her little ftore,— not gay, Shuffling her threads about the live-long day,— Juft earns a fcanty pittance, and at night, O happy peasant! O unhappy bard! COWPER. LIX. HOLY SCRIPTURE. HE Spirit breathes upon the Word, A glory gilds the facred page, The hand that gave it still supplies Let everlasting thanks be thine As makes a world of darkness shine My foul rejoices to pursue The steps of Him I love, Till glory breaks upon my view COWPER. LX. HOLY SCRIPTURE. ERE is the fpring whence waters flow, Here is the tree, where truth doth grow, To lead our lives therein. Here is the Judge that stints the strife, Here is the bread, that feeds the life, The tidings of falvation dear, Then be not like the Hog, that hath Yet takes more pleasure in the trough, Read not this book in any case, But with a fingle eye; Read not, but first defire God's grace To understand thereby. Stay ftill in faith, with this refpect, To fructify therein ; That knowledge may bring this effect, Then happy thou, in all thy life, Yea, doubly happy fhalt thou be, LXI. THE REDEEMER. IND who is He? the vaft, the awful form, A Girt with the whirlwind, fandal'd with the ftorm? A western cloud around His limbs is spread, His crown a rainbow, and a fun His head. Lo! cherub hands the golden courts prepare; God is their temple, and the Lamb their light; * These lines are to be found in the "Bishops' Bible" of 1568. |