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Why was an independent wish

E'er planted in my mind ?
If not, why am I subject to

His cruelty, or scorn ?
Or why has Man the will and pow'r

To make his fellow mourn ?

X.

Yet, let not this too much, my Son,

Disturb thy youthful breast:
This partial view of human-kind

Is surely not the last!
The poor, oppressed, honest man

Had never, fure, been born,
Had there not been some recompense

To comfort those that mourn !

1

XI.

O Death! the poor man's dearest friend,

The kindest and the best!

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Welcome the hour my aged limbs

Are laid with thee at rest !
The Great, the wealthy fear thy blow,

From pomp and pleasure torn;
But, Oh ! a bleft relief to those

That weary-laden mourn!

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O Thou unknown, Almighty Cause

Of all my hope and fear! In whose dread Presence, ere an hour,

Perhaps I must appear!

II.

If I have wander'd in those paths

Of life I ought to shun;
As Something, loudly, in my breaft,

Remonstrates I have done;

III.

Thou know it that Thou haft formed me

With Paffions wild and strong; And lift'ning to their witching voice

Has often led me wrong.

IV.

Where human weakness has come short,

Or frailty stept afide,

Do Thou, All-Good! for such Thou art,

In shades of darkness hide.

V.

Where with intention I have err'd,

No other Plea I have,
But, Thou art good; and Goodness still

Delighteth to forgive.

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