The Poetical Works of Addison; Gay's Fables; and Somerville's Chase Part 14

AN HYMN.

1 When all thy mercies, O my G.o.d, My rising soul surveys; Transported with the view, I'm lost In wonder, love, and praise.

2 O how shall words with equal warmth The grat.i.tude declare, That glows within my ravish'd heart!

But thou canst read it there.

3 Thy providence my life sustain'd, And all my wants redress'd, When in the silent womb I lay, And hung upon the breast.

4 To all my weak complaints and cries Thy mercy lent an ear, Ere yet my feeble thoughts had learnt To form themselves in prayer.

5 Unnumber'd comforts to my soul Thy tender care bestow'd, Before my infant heart conceiv'd From whence these comforts flow'd.

6 When in the slippery paths of youth With heedless steps I ran, Thine arm unseen convey'd me safe, And led me up to man.

7 Through hidden dangers, toils, and death, It gently clear'd my way; And through the pleasing snares of vice, More to be fear'd than they.

8 When worn with sickness, oft hast thou With health renew'd my face; And when in sins and sorrows sunk, Reviv'd my soul with grace.

9 Thy bounteous hand with worldly bliss Has made my cup run o'er, And in a kind and faithful friend Has doubled all my store.

10 Ten thousand thousand precious gifts My daily thanks employ; Nor is the least a cheerful heart, That tastes those gifts with joy.

11 Through every period of my life, Thy goodness I'll pursue; And after death, in distant worlds, The glorious theme renew.[17]

12 When nature fails, and day and night Divide thy works no more, My ever-grateful heart, O Lord, Thy mercy shall adore.

13 Through all eternity, to thee A joyful song I'll raise; For, oh! eternity's too short To utter all thy praise.

AN ODE.

1 How are thy servants blest, O Lord!

How sure is their defence!

Eternal wisdom is their guide, Their help Omnipotence.

2 In foreign realms, and lands remote, Supported by thy care, Through burning climes I pa.s.s'd unhurt, And breath'd in tainted air.

3 Thy mercy sweeten'd every soil, Made every region please; The h.o.a.ry Alpine hills it warm'd, And smooth'd the Tyrrhene seas.

4 Think, O my soul, devoutly think, How, with affrighted eyes, Thou saw'st the wide-extended deep In all its horrors rise.

5 Confusion dwelt in every face, And fear in every heart; When waves on waves, and gulphs on gulphs, O'ercame the pilot's art.

6 Yet then from all my griefs, O Lord, Thy mercy set me free; Whilst, in the confidence of prayer, My soul took hold on thee.

7 For though in dreadful whirls we hung High on the broken wave, I knew thou wert not slow to hear, Nor impotent to save.

8 The storm was laid, the winds retired, Obedient to thy will; The sea that roar'd at thy command, At thy command was still.

9 In midst of dangers, fears, and death, Thy goodness I'll adore; And praise thee for thy mercies past, And humbly hope for more.

10 My life, if thou preserv'st my life, Thy sacrifice shall be; And death, if death must be my doom, Shall join my soul to thee.

AN HYMN.

1 When rising from the bed of death, O'erwhelm'd with guilt and fear, I see my Maker face to face; O how shall I appear!

2 If yet, while pardon may be found, And mercy may be sought, My heart with inward horror shrinks, And trembles at the thought:

3 When thou, O Lord, shalt stand disclos'd In majesty severe, And sit in judgment on my soul; O how shall I appear!

4 But thou hast told the troubled soul, Who does her sins lament, The timely tribute of her tears Shall endless woe prevent.

5 Then see the sorrows of my heart, Ere yet it be too late; And add my Saviour's dying groans, To give those sorrows weight.

6 For never shall my soul despair Her pardon to procure, Who knows thy only Son has died To make that pardon sure.

PARAPHRASE ON PSALM XXIII.

1

The Lord my pasture shall prepare, And feed me with a shepherd's care; His presence shall my wants supply, And guard me with a watchful eye: My noon-day walks he shall attend, And all my midnight hours defend.

2

When in the sultry glebe I faint, Or on the thirsty mountain pant; To fertile vales and dewy meads My weary wandering steps he leads: Where peaceful rivers, soft and slow, Amid the verdant landscape flow.

3

Though in the paths of death I tread, With gloomy horrors overspread, My steadfast heart shall fear no ill, For thou, O Lord, art with me still; Thy friendly crook shall give me aid, And guide me through the dreadful shade.

4

Though in a bare and rugged way, Through devious lonely wilds I stray, Thy bounty shall my wants beguile: The barren wilderness shall smile, With sudden greens and herbage crown'd, And streams shall murmur all around.

END OF ADDISON'S POEMS.

Footnotes:

[Footnote 2: 'Majesty:' King William.]