London, Published by R. Miller, Old Fish Street, Doctors Commons.
London, Published by R. Miller, Old Fish Street, Doctors Commons.
No. 21.
No. 21.
INDUSTRY.Anonymous.Behold, fond youth, that busy bee;How swift she flies from tree to tree;Extracting flow'ry sweets;Thus cheerful all the day she'll roam,At evening seek her much lov'd home,To treasure all she meets.Full well she knows, that winter keen,Must come to blast this painted scene,With famine on his wing:Her prudent labors find repose;Nor winters cold, nor want she knows,Till time renews the spring.While yonder drone in sunny haunts,Who just supplies his present wants,Nor heeds the passing hours;Soon bleak december's piercing air,Shall mock his want of timely care,And chill his vital powers.Like the dull drone, should he who throwsAway what Providence bestows.Feel pinching hours of need;While they whose care is to increase,Find, like the bee, in winter peace,And every good succeed.
INDUSTRY.Anonymous.Behold, fond youth, that busy bee;How swift she flies from tree to tree;Extracting flow'ry sweets;Thus cheerful all the day she'll roam,At evening seek her much lov'd home,To treasure all she meets.Full well she knows, that winter keen,Must come to blast this painted scene,With famine on his wing:Her prudent labors find repose;Nor winters cold, nor want she knows,Till time renews the spring.While yonder drone in sunny haunts,Who just supplies his present wants,Nor heeds the passing hours;Soon bleak december's piercing air,Shall mock his want of timely care,And chill his vital powers.Like the dull drone, should he who throwsAway what Providence bestows.Feel pinching hours of need;While they whose care is to increase,Find, like the bee, in winter peace,And every good succeed.
INDUSTRY.Anonymous.
INDUSTRY.
Anonymous.
Behold, fond youth, that busy bee;How swift she flies from tree to tree;Extracting flow'ry sweets;Thus cheerful all the day she'll roam,At evening seek her much lov'd home,To treasure all she meets.
Behold, fond youth, that busy bee;
How swift she flies from tree to tree;
Extracting flow'ry sweets;
Thus cheerful all the day she'll roam,
At evening seek her much lov'd home,
To treasure all she meets.
Full well she knows, that winter keen,Must come to blast this painted scene,With famine on his wing:Her prudent labors find repose;Nor winters cold, nor want she knows,Till time renews the spring.
Full well she knows, that winter keen,
Must come to blast this painted scene,
With famine on his wing:
Her prudent labors find repose;
Nor winters cold, nor want she knows,
Till time renews the spring.
While yonder drone in sunny haunts,Who just supplies his present wants,Nor heeds the passing hours;Soon bleak december's piercing air,Shall mock his want of timely care,And chill his vital powers.
While yonder drone in sunny haunts,
Who just supplies his present wants,
Nor heeds the passing hours;
Soon bleak december's piercing air,
Shall mock his want of timely care,
And chill his vital powers.
Like the dull drone, should he who throwsAway what Providence bestows.Feel pinching hours of need;While they whose care is to increase,Find, like the bee, in winter peace,And every good succeed.
Like the dull drone, should he who throws
Away what Providence bestows.
Feel pinching hours of need;
While they whose care is to increase,
Find, like the bee, in winter peace,
And every good succeed.
London, Published by R. Miller, Old Fish Street, Doctors Commons.
London, Published by R. Miller, Old Fish Street, Doctors Commons.
No. 22.
No. 22.
JOURNEY TO EMMAUS.Cowper.It happen'd on a solemn eventideSoon after he that was our surety died,Two bosom friends, each pensively inclin'd.The scene of all those sorrows left behind,Sought their own village, busied as they wentIn musings worthy of the great event;They spake of him they lov'd, of him whose lifeTho' blameless, had incur'd perpetual strife,Whose deeds had left, in spite of hostile arts,A deep memorial graven on their hearts.The recollection, like a vein of ore,The further trac'd, enrich'd them still the more;They thought him, and they justly thought him, oneSent to do more than he appear'd t' have doneT' exalt a people, and to place them highAbove all else, and wonder'd he should die,Ere yet they brought their journey to an end,A stranger join'd them, courteous as a friend.And ask'd them with a kind engaging airWhat their affliction was, and begg'd a share.Inform'd, he gather'd up the broken thread,And truth and wisdom gracing all he said,Explain'd, illustrated, and search'd so wellThe tender theme on which they chose to dwellThat, reaching home, the night, they said is near,We must not now be parted, sojourn here.The new acquaintance, soon became a guestAnd made so welcome at their simple feastHe bless'd the bread, but vanish'd at the word,And left them both exclaiming, 'T'was the Lord'!Did not our hearts feel all he deign'd to say.Did they not burn within us by the way?
JOURNEY TO EMMAUS.Cowper.It happen'd on a solemn eventideSoon after he that was our surety died,Two bosom friends, each pensively inclin'd.The scene of all those sorrows left behind,Sought their own village, busied as they wentIn musings worthy of the great event;They spake of him they lov'd, of him whose lifeTho' blameless, had incur'd perpetual strife,Whose deeds had left, in spite of hostile arts,A deep memorial graven on their hearts.The recollection, like a vein of ore,The further trac'd, enrich'd them still the more;They thought him, and they justly thought him, oneSent to do more than he appear'd t' have doneT' exalt a people, and to place them highAbove all else, and wonder'd he should die,Ere yet they brought their journey to an end,A stranger join'd them, courteous as a friend.And ask'd them with a kind engaging airWhat their affliction was, and begg'd a share.Inform'd, he gather'd up the broken thread,And truth and wisdom gracing all he said,Explain'd, illustrated, and search'd so wellThe tender theme on which they chose to dwellThat, reaching home, the night, they said is near,We must not now be parted, sojourn here.The new acquaintance, soon became a guestAnd made so welcome at their simple feastHe bless'd the bread, but vanish'd at the word,And left them both exclaiming, 'T'was the Lord'!Did not our hearts feel all he deign'd to say.Did they not burn within us by the way?
JOURNEY TO EMMAUS.Cowper.
JOURNEY TO EMMAUS.
Cowper.
It happen'd on a solemn eventideSoon after he that was our surety died,Two bosom friends, each pensively inclin'd.The scene of all those sorrows left behind,Sought their own village, busied as they wentIn musings worthy of the great event;They spake of him they lov'd, of him whose lifeTho' blameless, had incur'd perpetual strife,Whose deeds had left, in spite of hostile arts,A deep memorial graven on their hearts.The recollection, like a vein of ore,The further trac'd, enrich'd them still the more;They thought him, and they justly thought him, oneSent to do more than he appear'd t' have doneT' exalt a people, and to place them highAbove all else, and wonder'd he should die,Ere yet they brought their journey to an end,A stranger join'd them, courteous as a friend.And ask'd them with a kind engaging airWhat their affliction was, and begg'd a share.Inform'd, he gather'd up the broken thread,And truth and wisdom gracing all he said,Explain'd, illustrated, and search'd so wellThe tender theme on which they chose to dwellThat, reaching home, the night, they said is near,We must not now be parted, sojourn here.The new acquaintance, soon became a guestAnd made so welcome at their simple feastHe bless'd the bread, but vanish'd at the word,And left them both exclaiming, 'T'was the Lord'!Did not our hearts feel all he deign'd to say.Did they not burn within us by the way?
It happen'd on a solemn eventide
Soon after he that was our surety died,
Two bosom friends, each pensively inclin'd.
The scene of all those sorrows left behind,
Sought their own village, busied as they went
In musings worthy of the great event;
They spake of him they lov'd, of him whose life
Tho' blameless, had incur'd perpetual strife,
Whose deeds had left, in spite of hostile arts,
A deep memorial graven on their hearts.
The recollection, like a vein of ore,
The further trac'd, enrich'd them still the more;
They thought him, and they justly thought him, one
Sent to do more than he appear'd t' have done
T' exalt a people, and to place them high
Above all else, and wonder'd he should die,
Ere yet they brought their journey to an end,
A stranger join'd them, courteous as a friend.
And ask'd them with a kind engaging air
What their affliction was, and begg'd a share.
Inform'd, he gather'd up the broken thread,
And truth and wisdom gracing all he said,
Explain'd, illustrated, and search'd so well
The tender theme on which they chose to dwell
That, reaching home, the night, they said is near,
We must not now be parted, sojourn here.
The new acquaintance, soon became a guest
And made so welcome at their simple feast
He bless'd the bread, but vanish'd at the word,
And left them both exclaiming, 'T'was the Lord'!
Did not our hearts feel all he deign'd to say.
Did they not burn within us by the way?
London, Published by R. Miller, Old Fish Street, Doctors Commons.
London, Published by R. Miller, Old Fish Street, Doctors Commons.
No. 23.
No. 23.
A COUNTRY PROSPECT.Sir RichdHill.While all thy glories, O my God!Thro the creation shine;While rocks, and hills, and fertile valesProclaim the hand divine.O may I view with humble heartThe wonders of thy pow'r,Display'd alike in wilder scenes,As in each blade and flow'r.But while I taste thy blessings, Lord,And sip the streams below,O may my soul be led to thee,From whence all blessings flow;And if such footsteps of thy love,Thro this lost world we trace;How far transcendent are thy worksThroughout the world of grace.Just as before yon noontide sun,The brightest stars are small.So earthly comforts are but snares,Till grace has crown'd them all.
A COUNTRY PROSPECT.Sir RichdHill.While all thy glories, O my God!Thro the creation shine;While rocks, and hills, and fertile valesProclaim the hand divine.O may I view with humble heartThe wonders of thy pow'r,Display'd alike in wilder scenes,As in each blade and flow'r.But while I taste thy blessings, Lord,And sip the streams below,O may my soul be led to thee,From whence all blessings flow;And if such footsteps of thy love,Thro this lost world we trace;How far transcendent are thy worksThroughout the world of grace.Just as before yon noontide sun,The brightest stars are small.So earthly comforts are but snares,Till grace has crown'd them all.
A COUNTRY PROSPECT.Sir RichdHill.
A COUNTRY PROSPECT.
Sir RichdHill.
While all thy glories, O my God!Thro the creation shine;While rocks, and hills, and fertile valesProclaim the hand divine.O may I view with humble heartThe wonders of thy pow'r,Display'd alike in wilder scenes,As in each blade and flow'r.But while I taste thy blessings, Lord,And sip the streams below,O may my soul be led to thee,From whence all blessings flow;And if such footsteps of thy love,Thro this lost world we trace;How far transcendent are thy worksThroughout the world of grace.Just as before yon noontide sun,The brightest stars are small.So earthly comforts are but snares,Till grace has crown'd them all.
While all thy glories, O my God!
Thro the creation shine;
While rocks, and hills, and fertile vales
Proclaim the hand divine.
O may I view with humble heart
The wonders of thy pow'r,
Display'd alike in wilder scenes,
As in each blade and flow'r.
But while I taste thy blessings, Lord,
And sip the streams below,
O may my soul be led to thee,
From whence all blessings flow;
And if such footsteps of thy love,
Thro this lost world we trace;
How far transcendent are thy works
Throughout the world of grace.
Just as before yon noontide sun,
The brightest stars are small.
So earthly comforts are but snares,
Till grace has crown'd them all.
London, Published by R. Miller, Old Fish Street, Doctors Commons.
London, Published by R. Miller, Old Fish Street, Doctors Commons.
No. 24.
No. 24.
HAY TIME.Newton.The grass and flow'rs which clothe the field,And look so green and gay,Touch'd by the scythe, defenceless yield,And fall, and fade away.Fit emblem of our mortal state:Thus in the scripture glass,The young, the strong; the wise, the great;May see themselves but grass.O! trust not to your fleeting breath,Nor call your time your own;Around you see the scythe of deathIs mowing thousands down.And you, who hitherto are spar'd,Must shortly yield your lives:Your wisdom is to be prepar'd,Before the stroke arrives.The grass, when dead, revives no more;You die to live again;But oh! if death should prove the doorTo everlasting pain.Lord, help us to obey thy call,That from our sins set free,When like the grass our bodies fall,Our souls may spring to thee.
HAY TIME.Newton.The grass and flow'rs which clothe the field,And look so green and gay,Touch'd by the scythe, defenceless yield,And fall, and fade away.Fit emblem of our mortal state:Thus in the scripture glass,The young, the strong; the wise, the great;May see themselves but grass.O! trust not to your fleeting breath,Nor call your time your own;Around you see the scythe of deathIs mowing thousands down.And you, who hitherto are spar'd,Must shortly yield your lives:Your wisdom is to be prepar'd,Before the stroke arrives.The grass, when dead, revives no more;You die to live again;But oh! if death should prove the doorTo everlasting pain.Lord, help us to obey thy call,That from our sins set free,When like the grass our bodies fall,Our souls may spring to thee.
HAY TIME.Newton.
HAY TIME.
Newton.
The grass and flow'rs which clothe the field,And look so green and gay,Touch'd by the scythe, defenceless yield,And fall, and fade away.
The grass and flow'rs which clothe the field,
And look so green and gay,
Touch'd by the scythe, defenceless yield,
And fall, and fade away.
Fit emblem of our mortal state:Thus in the scripture glass,The young, the strong; the wise, the great;May see themselves but grass.
Fit emblem of our mortal state:
Thus in the scripture glass,
The young, the strong; the wise, the great;
May see themselves but grass.
O! trust not to your fleeting breath,Nor call your time your own;Around you see the scythe of deathIs mowing thousands down.
O! trust not to your fleeting breath,
Nor call your time your own;
Around you see the scythe of death
Is mowing thousands down.
And you, who hitherto are spar'd,Must shortly yield your lives:Your wisdom is to be prepar'd,Before the stroke arrives.
And you, who hitherto are spar'd,
Must shortly yield your lives:
Your wisdom is to be prepar'd,
Before the stroke arrives.
The grass, when dead, revives no more;You die to live again;But oh! if death should prove the doorTo everlasting pain.
The grass, when dead, revives no more;
You die to live again;
But oh! if death should prove the door
To everlasting pain.
Lord, help us to obey thy call,That from our sins set free,When like the grass our bodies fall,Our souls may spring to thee.
Lord, help us to obey thy call,
That from our sins set free,
When like the grass our bodies fall,
Our souls may spring to thee.
London, Published by R. Miller, Old Fish Street, Doctors Commons.
London, Published by R. Miller, Old Fish Street, Doctors Commons.
No. 25.
No. 25.
SAMUEL.Anonymous.When I survey this holy child,With bended knee, and count'nance mild,With eyes and hands uplift in prayer,The approving ray from heaven there.What that implies O could I be,Whene'er to God I bend the knee!Thus fervent, reverent, and meek,When I for heavenly blessings seek!But ah! I have a foe within,No print can shew the power of sin!This cools my fervour and desires,This unbelief and dread inspires.O for thy holy Spirit, Lord!This to my prayers shall life afford!With Samuel's faith my soul supply,Whene'er I to thy throne draw nigh.
SAMUEL.Anonymous.When I survey this holy child,With bended knee, and count'nance mild,With eyes and hands uplift in prayer,The approving ray from heaven there.What that implies O could I be,Whene'er to God I bend the knee!Thus fervent, reverent, and meek,When I for heavenly blessings seek!But ah! I have a foe within,No print can shew the power of sin!This cools my fervour and desires,This unbelief and dread inspires.O for thy holy Spirit, Lord!This to my prayers shall life afford!With Samuel's faith my soul supply,Whene'er I to thy throne draw nigh.
SAMUEL.Anonymous.
SAMUEL.
Anonymous.
When I survey this holy child,With bended knee, and count'nance mild,With eyes and hands uplift in prayer,The approving ray from heaven there.
When I survey this holy child,
With bended knee, and count'nance mild,
With eyes and hands uplift in prayer,
The approving ray from heaven there.
What that implies O could I be,Whene'er to God I bend the knee!Thus fervent, reverent, and meek,When I for heavenly blessings seek!
What that implies O could I be,
Whene'er to God I bend the knee!
Thus fervent, reverent, and meek,
When I for heavenly blessings seek!
But ah! I have a foe within,No print can shew the power of sin!This cools my fervour and desires,This unbelief and dread inspires.
But ah! I have a foe within,
No print can shew the power of sin!
This cools my fervour and desires,
This unbelief and dread inspires.
O for thy holy Spirit, Lord!This to my prayers shall life afford!With Samuel's faith my soul supply,Whene'er I to thy throne draw nigh.
O for thy holy Spirit, Lord!
This to my prayers shall life afford!
With Samuel's faith my soul supply,
Whene'er I to thy throne draw nigh.
London, Published by R. Miller, Old Fish Street, Doctors Commons.
London, Published by R. Miller, Old Fish Street, Doctors Commons.
No. 26.
No. 26.
WHITSUNDAY.Watts.Great was the day, the joy was great,When the divine disciples met,Whilst on their heads the Spirit came,And sat like tongues of cloven flame.What gifts, what miracles he gave!And pow'r to kill, and pow'r to save!Furnish'd their tongues with wond'rous words,Instead of shields, and spears, and swords!Thus arm'd, he sent the champions forth,From east to west, from south to north;"Go, and assert your Saviour's cause;"Go, spread the myst'ry of his cross.These weapons of the holy war,Of what almighty force they are,To make our stubborn passions bow,And lay the proudest rebel low.Nations, the learned and the rude,Are by these heavenly arms subdued;While satan rages at his loss,And hates the doctrine of the cross.Great King of grace! my heart subdue!I would be led in triumph too.A willing captive to my Lord,And sing the victories of his word.
WHITSUNDAY.Watts.Great was the day, the joy was great,When the divine disciples met,Whilst on their heads the Spirit came,And sat like tongues of cloven flame.What gifts, what miracles he gave!And pow'r to kill, and pow'r to save!Furnish'd their tongues with wond'rous words,Instead of shields, and spears, and swords!Thus arm'd, he sent the champions forth,From east to west, from south to north;"Go, and assert your Saviour's cause;"Go, spread the myst'ry of his cross.These weapons of the holy war,Of what almighty force they are,To make our stubborn passions bow,And lay the proudest rebel low.Nations, the learned and the rude,Are by these heavenly arms subdued;While satan rages at his loss,And hates the doctrine of the cross.Great King of grace! my heart subdue!I would be led in triumph too.A willing captive to my Lord,And sing the victories of his word.
WHITSUNDAY.Watts.
WHITSUNDAY.
Watts.
Great was the day, the joy was great,When the divine disciples met,Whilst on their heads the Spirit came,And sat like tongues of cloven flame.
Great was the day, the joy was great,
When the divine disciples met,
Whilst on their heads the Spirit came,
And sat like tongues of cloven flame.
What gifts, what miracles he gave!And pow'r to kill, and pow'r to save!Furnish'd their tongues with wond'rous words,Instead of shields, and spears, and swords!
What gifts, what miracles he gave!
And pow'r to kill, and pow'r to save!
Furnish'd their tongues with wond'rous words,
Instead of shields, and spears, and swords!
Thus arm'd, he sent the champions forth,From east to west, from south to north;"Go, and assert your Saviour's cause;"Go, spread the myst'ry of his cross.
Thus arm'd, he sent the champions forth,
From east to west, from south to north;
"Go, and assert your Saviour's cause;
"Go, spread the myst'ry of his cross.
These weapons of the holy war,Of what almighty force they are,To make our stubborn passions bow,And lay the proudest rebel low.
These weapons of the holy war,
Of what almighty force they are,
To make our stubborn passions bow,
And lay the proudest rebel low.
Nations, the learned and the rude,Are by these heavenly arms subdued;While satan rages at his loss,And hates the doctrine of the cross.
Nations, the learned and the rude,
Are by these heavenly arms subdued;
While satan rages at his loss,
And hates the doctrine of the cross.
Great King of grace! my heart subdue!I would be led in triumph too.A willing captive to my Lord,And sing the victories of his word.
Great King of grace! my heart subdue!
I would be led in triumph too.
A willing captive to my Lord,
And sing the victories of his word.
London, Published by R. Miller, Old Fish Street, Doctors Commons.
London, Published by R. Miller, Old Fish Street, Doctors Commons.