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Tremble, ye pageants of a day,
Form'd like your slaves of brittle clay,
Down to the dust your sceptres bend:
To everlasting years he reigns,
When kings, and suns, and time shall end. No stranger thou, to every fear
That shakes th' inhabitant of clay; So shall bis favour'd Zion live ; For sorrow's stormy cloud its torrent shed, lo vain confed'rate nations strive And aim'd its thunders at thy guiltless head. Her sacred turrets to destroy ;
Her sov'reign sits enthrop'd above, The thorns that pierc'd thy bleeding brow, And endless pow'r, and endless love
Wound, as I pass, my pilgrim feet; Ensure her safety, and her joy.
CHRIST THE HEAD OF SAINTS AND ANGELS.
HAIL! great Immanuel, ever honour'd name !
And flaming seraphim, bow humbly down:
Array'd in his refulgent beams ye shine,
Pleas'd to obey your Sov'reign's high command;
Mortals with you in cheerful homage join,-
We glory that in him we stand complete :
CHRIST A SHEPHERD.
HAPPY me! O happy sheep!
Come now all ye terrors, sally,
Still may thy sweet mercy spread | A shady arm above my head,
Thou sacred light, that right from wrong discerns ;
Thou safeguard of the soul, thou heaven on earth;
Thou disregarder of its joys and mirth ;
Thou prop by which the pilgrim's woes are borne;
That beds him down to rest on fate's sharp thoru;
Thou voice of mercy when the weary call;
Thou peace, thou rest, thou comfort, all in all :
A RECEIPT FOR HAPPINESS. | Lol in the mantling bowl sweet poisons
flow; A NON.
Love's softest pleasures terminate in wo; TRAVERSE the world, go fly from pole to Even learning ends her vast career in doubt, pole,
And puzzling on makes nothing clearly out: Go far as winds can blow or waters roll, Where then is sov'reign bliss? Where doth All, all is vanity, beneath the sun,
it grow? To certain death through diff'rent paths we know, mortal! happiness ne'er dwelt berun.
low. See the pale miser poring o'er his gold; Look towards Heav'n, be Heav'n thy only See there a galley-slave to misery sold ! care; Ambition's vot'ries groan beneath its weight, Spurn the vile earth-go seek thy treasure The splendid victim of the toils of state.
TRUE AND FALSE GAIETY. I question'd FRIENDSHIP: FRIENDSHIP
sigh'd, COW PER.
And thus her answer gaveWhom call we gay? That honour has loog | The few whom fortune never torn'd been
Were wither'd in the grave !
Could soothe the wounded breast; Whose headachs nail them to a noonday bed; And found her mourning, faint, and still, And save me tow from theirs, whose hag-| For others' woes distress'd!
No boon could she dispense .
I question'd Death-the grisly sbade
Relax'd his brow severe
“ If virtue guides thee here." HAPPINESS NOT EARTHLY.
THE WAY TO HAPPINESS.
One morning in the month of May
I wander'd o'er the bill;
My heart was beavy still.
Can God, I thought, the just, the great,
These meaner creatores bless, And yet deny to man's estate
The boon of happiness?
Tell me, ye woods, ye smiling plains,
Ye blessed birds around,
Can bliss for man be fonnd !
How long, ye miserably blind,
The birds wild caroll'd over head,
The breeze around me blew, And nature's awful chorus said
No bliss for man she knew.
I question'd Love, whose early ray
So rosy bright appears,
His light was dimm'd by tears.