"LET ME KNOW THE NUMBER OF MY DAYS." DAVID. TELL me, O great All-knowing God! What period Hast thou unto my days assign'd? Like some old leafless tree, shall I Wither away, or violently Fall by the axe, by lightning, or the wind? Here, where I first drew vital breath, And find in the same vault a room Shall I 'gainst the swift Parthians fight, Receive my death? Or shall I see Astrologers, who calculate Affirm my scheme doth not presage But they are jugglers, and by sleight Of faith delude; and in their school They only practise how to make And teach strange words credulity to fool. For thou, who first didst motion give, And time hath being, to conceal Therefore, so I prepar'd still be, My God, for thee, O' th' sudden on my spirits may Or weaken'd by a feeble age, decay. And so I in thy favour die, No memory For me a well-wrought tomb prepare : "NOT UNTO US, O LORD."-DAVID. No marble statuë, nor high God, be thou only prais'd! Thou in a moment canst defeat How can the feeble works of art Blind folly of triumphing pride! That tide which did its banks o'erflow, And thou, who to preserve thy name, When the idol shall receive a maim, How wilt thou hate thy wars, when he, Who only for his hire did raise Thy counterfeit in stone, with thee Shall stand competitor, and be Perhaps thought worthier praise ? No laurel wreath about my brow! Thy influence but withdraw. "THE GRAVE IS MINE HOUSE."-JOB. WELCOME, thou safe retreat! Where the injur'd man may fortify Against the invasions of the great: Where the lean slave, who the oar doth ply, Soft as his admiral may lie. Great statist! 'tis your doom, Though your designs swell high and wide, And all your happy cares provide Nor shall your shade delight Will say, "The poet's wit here lies." How reconcil'd to fate Will grow the aged villager, When he shall see your funeral state! The great decree of God Makes every path of mortals lead Even I, while humble zeal And when I'm lost in death's cold night, "NIGHT SHOWETH KNOWLEDGE."-DAVID. WHEN I survey the bright Celestial sphere, So rich with jewels hung, that night My soul her wings doth spread, The Almighty's mysteries to read For the bright firmament So silent, but is eloquent No unregarded star Contracts its light Into so small a character, Remov'd far from our human sight; |