Come then, my soul! be this thy guest; And leave to knaves and fools the rest. With this thou ever shalt be gay, And night shall brighten into day. With this companion in the shade, Surely thou couldst not be dismay'd; But if thy Saviour here were found, All Paradise would bloom around. Had I a firm and lasting faith, To credit what the' Almighty saith; I could defy the midnight gloom, And the pale monarch of the tomb. Though tempests drive me from the shore, And floods descend, and billows roar; Though death appears in every form, My little bark should brave the storm. Then if my God required the life Of brother, parent, child, or wife; Lord! I should bless the stern decree, And give my dearest friend to thee. Amidst the various scenes of ills, Each stroke some kind design fulfils; And shall I murmur at my God, When sovereign love directs the rod? Peace, rebel thoughts-I'll not complain; My father's smiles suspend my pain; Smiles-that a thousand joys impart, And pour the balm that heals the smart. Though Heaven afflicts, I'll not repine, Each heartfelt comfort still is mine; Comforts that shall o'er death prevail, And journey with me through the vale.

Dear Jesus! smooth that rugged way,
And lead me to the realms of day,
To milder skies, and brighter plains,
Where everlasting sunshine reigns.

SUNDAY HYMN,

IN IMITATION OF DR. WATTS.

THIS is the day the Lord of life
Ascended to the skies;

My thoughts, pursue the lofty theme, And to the heavens arise.

mind

Let no vain cares divert my
From this celestial road;
Nor all the honours of the earth
Detain my soul from God.

Think of the splendours of that place,
The joys that are on high;
Nor meanly rest contented here,
With worlds beneath the sky.

Heaven is the birthplace of the saints,
To heaven their souls ascend;
The' Almighty owns his favourite race,
As father and as friend.

Oh! may these lovely titles prove
My comfort and defence,

When the sick couch shall be my lot,
And death shall call me hence.

PSALM XIII.

OFFENDED Majesty! how long
Wilt thou conceal thy face?
How long refuse my fainting soul
The succours of thy grace?

While sorrow wrings my bleeding heart,
And black despondence reigns;
Satan exults at my complaints,
And triumphs o'er my pains.
Let thy returning spirit, Lord!

Dispel the shades of night;
Smile on my poor deserted soul,

My God! thy smiles are light.
While scoffers at thy sacred word
Deride the pangs I feel,
Deem my religion insincere,
Or call it useless zeal.

Yet will I ne'er repent my choice,
I'll ne'er withdraw my trust;
I know thee, Lord, a powerful friend,
And kind and wise and just.

To doubt Thy goodness would be base
Ingratitude in me;

Past favours shall renew my hopes,
And fix my faith in Thee.

Indulgent God! my willing tongue
Thy praises shall prolong;
For oh! Thy bounty fires my breast,
And rapture swells my song.

PSALM XLII.

WITH fierce desire the hunted hart
Explores the cooling stream:
Mine is a passion stronger far,
And mine a nobler theme.

Yes, with superior fervours, Lord;
I thirst to see thy face;
My languid soul would fain approach
The fountains of thy grace.

Oh! the great plenty of thy house,
The rich refreshments there!
To live an exile from thy courts
O'erwhelms me with despair.

In worship when I join'd thy saints,
How sweetly pass'd my days!
Prayer my divine employment then,
And all my pleasure praise.

But now I'm lost to every joy,
Because detain'd from Thee;
Those golden periods ne'er return,
Or ne'er return to me.

Yet, O my soul! why thus depress'd,
And whence this anxious fear?
Let former favours fix thy trust,
And check the rising tear.

When darkness and when sorrows rose,
And press'd on every side;

Did not the Lord sustain thy steps,
And was not God thy guide?

Affliction is a stormy deep,

Where wave resounds to wave; Though o'er my head the billows roll, I know the Lord can save.

Perhaps, before the morning dawns,
He'll reinstate my peace;

For He, who bade the tempest roar,
Can bid the tempest cease.

In the dark watches of the night
I'll count his mercies o'er;
I'll praise him for ten thousand past,
And humbly sue for more.

Then, O my soul! why thus depress'd,
And whence this anxious fear?
Let former favours fix thy trust,
And check the rising tear.

Here will I rest, and build my hopes,
Nor murmur at his rod;

He's more than all the world to me,
My health, my life, my God!

AN ENIGMA.

INSCRIBED TO MISS P.

CHLOE, I boast celestial date,
Ere time began to roll;

So wide my power, my sceptre spurns The limits of the pole.