ANGELS, that high in glory dwell, Adore thy name, Almighty God! And devils tremble, down in hell, Beneath the terrors of thy rod,
How will they ftand before thy face, Who treated thee with fuch difdain, While thou shalt doom them to the place Of everlafting fire and pain!
Then never fhall one cooling drop
To quench their burning tongues be given;
But I will praife thee here, and hope
Thus to employ my tongue in heaven.
My heart fhall be in pain to hear
Wretches affront the Lord above;
'Tis that great God whose pow'r I fear,
That heav'nly Father whom I love.
If my companions grow profane,
I'll leave their friendship when I hear
Young finners take thy name in vain,
And learn to curfe, and learn to fwear.
$73. Against Idleness and Mifchief. WATTS. HOW doth the little bufy bee
Improve each fhining hour, And gather honey all the day From ev'ry op'ning flow'r! How fkilfully the builds her cell!
How neat the fpreads the wax! And labours hard to ftore it well
With the fweet food she makes.
In works of labour, or of skill,
I would be buty too;
For Satan finds fome mifchief still
For idle hands to do.
In books, or work, or healthful play,
Let my first years be paft,
That I may give for ev'ry day
Some good account at laft.
$74. Against Evil Company. WATTS, WHY fhould I join with thofe in play
In whom I've no delight;
Who curfe and fwear, but never pray;
Who call ill names, and fight?
I hate to hear a wanton fong,
Their words offend mine ears; I should not dare defile my tongue With language fuch as theirs.
Away from fools I'll turn mine eyes, Nor with the fcoffers go:
872. Against Swearing and Curfing, and taking I would be walking with the wife, That wifer I may grow.
God's Name in vain.
WATTS.
My God, I hate to walk or dwell
With finful children here: Then let me not be fent to hell, Where none but finners are.
$75. Againfi Pride in Clothes. WATTS. WHY fhould our garments, made to hide
Our parents' fhame, provoke our pride?
The art of drefs did ne'er begin
Till Eve, our mother, learnt to fin.
When first the put the cov'ring on,
Her robe of innocence was gone;
And yet her children vainly boast
In the fad marks of glory loft.
How proud we are! how fond to fhew
Our clothes, and call them rich and new!
When the poor fheep and filkworm wore
That very clothing long before.
The tulip and the butterfly
Appear in gayer coats than I :
Let me be dreft fine as I will,
Flies, worms, and flow'rs, exceed me still.
Then will I fet my heart to find
Inward adornings of the mind;
Knowledge and virtue, truth and grace:
These are the robes of richet drefs.
No more fhall worms with me compare;
This is the raiment angels wear;
The Son of God, when here below,
Put on this bleft apparel too.
It never fades, it ne'er grows old;
Nor fears the rain, nor moth, nor mould:
It takes no spot, but still retines;
The more 'tis worn, the more it fhines.
In this on earth fhould I appear,
Then go to heav'n and wear it there,
God will approve it in his fight;
'Tis his own work, and his delight.
$76. Obedience to Parents.
LET children that would fear the Lord
Hear what their teachers fay;
With rev'rence meet their parents' word,
And with delight obey.
Have you not heard what dreadful plagues
Are threaten'd by the Lord,
To him that breaks his father's law,
Or mocks his mother's word?
What heavy guilt upon him lies!
How curled is his name!
The ravens fhall pick out his cyes,
And eagles eat the fame.
But thofe who worship God, and give
Their parents honour due,
Here on this carth they long fhall live,
And live hereafter too.
$77. The Child's Complaint. WATTS.
WHY fhould I love my sport fo well,
So conftant at my play,
And lofe the thoughts of heav'n and hell,
And then forget to pray?
What do I read my Bible for,
But, Lord, to learn thy will?
And shall I daily know thee more,
And lefs obey thee ftill?
How fenfelefs is my heart, and wild!
How vain are all my thoughts!
Pity the weakness of a child,
And pardon all my faults.
Make me thy heav'nly voice to hear,
And let me love to pray;
Since God will lend a gracious ear
To what a child can fay.
§78. A Morning and Evening Song. WATTS Morning Song.
Y God, who makes the fun to know
His proper hour to rife,
And to give light to all below,
Doth fend him round the kies.
When from the chambers of the east
His morning race begins,
He never tires, nor ftops to reft,
But round the world he fhines.
So, like the fun, would I fulfil
The bus'nefs of the day:
Begin my work, betimes, and ftill
March on my heav'nly way.
Give me, O Lord, thy carly grace,
Nor let my foul complain
That the young morning of my days
Has all been fpent in vain !
AND now another day is gone,
I'll fing my Maker's praise:
My comforts ev'ry hour make known
His providence and grace.
But how my childhood runs to waste L
My fins, how great their fum!
Lord, give me pardon for the paft,
And ftrength for days to come.
I lay my body down to fleep;
Let angels guard my head,
And through the hours of darkness keep
Their watch around my bed.
With cheerful heart I clofe my eyes,
Since thou wilt not remove;
And in the morning let me rife,
Rejoicing in thy love.
To-day with pleasure Chriftians meet
To pray, and hear the word:
And I would go with cheerful feet
To learn thy will, O Lord,
I'll leave my fport, to read and pray,
And fo prepare for heaven;
O may I love this bleffed day
The best of all the feven
If we had been ducks, we might dabble in'mud,
Or dogs, we might play till it ended in blood;
So foul and fo fierce are their natures:
But Thomas and William, and fuch pretty names,
Should be cleanly and harmless as doves or as
Thofe lovely sweet innocent creatures. [lambs,
Not a thing that we do, nor a word that we say,
Should hinder another in jefting or play;
For he's still in carneft that 's hurt: [mire!
WATTS. How rude are the boys that throw pebbles and
There's none but a madman will fling about fire,
And tell "'Tis all but in fport."
you
$80. For the Lord's Day Evening.
LORD, how delightful 'tis to fee
A whole affembly worship thee!
At once they fing, at once they pray;
They hear of heav'n, and learn the way.
I have been there, and ftill would go;
'Tis like a little heav'n below:
Not all my pleasure and my play
Shail tempt me to forget this day.
O write upon my mem'ry, Lord,
The texts and doctrines of thy word;
That I may break thy laws no more,
But love thee better than before.
;
With thoughts of Chrift, and things divine,
Fill up this foolish heart of mine
That, hoping pardon thro' his blood,
may
lie down, and wake with God.
I
81. The Sluggard. WATTS. "TIS the voice of a fluggard-I heard him complain, [again."
"You have wak'd me too foon, I muft flumber As the door on its hinges, fo he on his bed [head. Turns his fides and his shoulders, and his heavy "A little more fleep and a little more flumber," Thus he waftes half his days, and his hours without number;
And when he gets up, he fits folding his hands,
Or walks about faunt'ring, or trifling he stands.
I pafs'd by his garden, and faw the wild brier,
Thethorn and the thistle grow broader and higher;
The clothes that hang on him are turning to rags;
And his money ftill waftes, till he starves or he begs.
I made him a vifit, ftill hoping to find
He had took better care for improving his mind;
He told me his dreams, talk'd of eatinganddrinking,.
But he fcarce reads his Bible, and never loves
thinking.
Said I then to my heart," Here's a leffon for me;
That man 's but a picture of what I might be;
But thanks to my friends for their care in my
breeding,
[reading !"
Who taught me betimes to love working and
82. Innocent Play. WATTS.
ABROADin the meadows,to fee the younglambs
Run fporting about by the fide of their dams,
With fleeces fo clean and fo white;
Or a neft of young doves in a large open cage,
When they play all in love, without anger or rage,
How much we may learn from the fight!
WHY
$84. The Thief. WATTS.
fhould I deprive my neighbour
Of his goods against his will?
Hands were made for honeft labour,
Not to plunder or to steal.
'Tis a foolish felf-deceiving,
By fuch tricks to hope for gain:
All that 's ever got by thieving
Turns to forrow, fhame, and pain.
Have not Eve and Adam taught us
Their fad profit to compute
To what difmal ftate they brought us,
When they stole forbidden fruit!
Oft we fee a young beginner
Practife little pilf 'ring ways,
Till grown up a harden'd finner:
Then the gallows ends his days.
Theft will not be always hidden,
Though we fancy none can spy:
When we take a thing forbidden,
God beholds it with his eye.
Guard
my heart, O God of heaven,
Left I covet what's not mine;
Left I steal what is not given,
Guard my heart and hands from fin.
§ S5. The Ant, or Ermet. WATTS. THESE emmets, how little they are in our eyes! We tread them to duft, and a troop of them
dies,
Without
§ 86. Good Refolutions. WATTS. I am now in younger days, Nor can tell what thall befal me, I'll prepare for ev'ry place
Where my growing age fhall call me. Should I e'er be rich or great,
Others fhall partake my goodness; I'll fupply the poor with meat,
Never fhewing fcorn or rudenefs. Where I fee the blind or lame,
Deaf or dumb, I'll kindly treat them; I deferve to feel the fame,
If I meck, or hurt, or cheat them.
If I meet with railing tongues,
Why should I return them railing?
Since I beft revenge my wrongs
By my patience never failing.
When I hear them telling lics,
Talking foolish, curfing, fwearing; First I'll try to make them wife,
Or I'll foon go out of hearing. What though I be low and mean,
I'll engage the rich to love me, While I'm modeft, neat, and clean, And fubmit when they reprove me. If I fhould be poor and fick,
I fhall meet, I hope, with pity; Since I love to help the weak,
Though they 're neither fair nor witty. I'll not willingly offend,
Nor be easily offended;
What's amifs I'll ftrive to mend,
And endure what can't be mended.
$87. A Summer Evening. WATTS.
HOW fine has the day been, how bright was
the fun,
How lovely and joyful the course that he run, Though he rofe in a mift when his race he begun,
And there follow'd fome droppings of rain! But now the fair traveller's come to the weft, He paints the ky gay as he finks to his reft, His rays all are gold, and his beauties are beft;
And foretels a bright rifing again.
Juft fuch is the Chriftian: his courfe he begins Like the fun in a mift, when he mourns for his fins, And melts into tears; then he breaks out and fhines, And travels his heavenly way:
But, when he comes nearer to finish his race,
Like a fine fetting fun, he looks richer in grace,
And gives a fure hope at the end of his days
Of rifing in brighter array!
§ 88. A Craille Hymn. WATTS. HUSH! my dear, lie ftill and flumber, Holy angels guard thy bed! Heav'nly bleffings, without number, Gently falling on thy head.
Sleep, my babe! thy food and raiment,
Houfe and home, thy friends provide; All without thy care or payment,
All thy wants are well fupplied. How much better thou 'rt attended
Than the Son of God could be; When from heaven he defcended,
And became a child like thee!
Soft and eafy is thy cradle,
Courfe and hard thy Saviour lav;
When his birth-place was a ftable,
And his fofteft bed was hay.
Bleffed babe! what glorious features
Spotlefs fair, divinely bright!
Muft he dwell with brutal creatures?
How could angels bear the fight?
Was there nothing but a manger
Curfed finners could afford,
To receive the heav'nly ftranger?
Did they thus affront their Lord?
Soft, my child! I did not chide thee,
Though my fong might found too hard : mother 'Tis thymifits befide thee, And her arms fhall be thy guard.
* Here you may use the words Brother, Sifter, Neighbour, Friend, &c.
Yet to read the fhameful story,
How the Jews abus'd their King,
How they ferv'd the Lord of glory,
Makes me angry while I fing.
See the kinder fhepherds round him,
Telling wonders from the fky!
Where they fought him, there they found him, Praife him, ye bleft æthereal plains,
Where, in full majefty, he deigns
To fix his awful throne:
With his Virgin mother by.
See the lovely babe a-dreffing,
Lovely Infant, how he fmil'd!
When he wept, the Mother's bleffing
Sooth'd and buth'd the holy child.
Lo, he flumbers in his manger,
Where the horned oxen fed:
Peace, my darling, here's no danger,
Here's no ox a-near thy bed.
'Twas to fave thee, child, from dying,
Save my dear from burning flame,
Bitter groans, and endless crying,
That thy bleft Redeemer came.
May't thou live to know and fear him,
Truft and love him all thy days;
Then go dwell for ever near him,
See his face, and fing his praife!
I could give thee thousand kiffes,
Hoping what I must defire;
Not a mother's fondeft withes
Can to greater joys afpic!
$89. The Nunc Dimittis. MERRICK. TIS enough-the hour is come:
Now within the filert tomb
Let this mortal frame decay,
Mingled with its kindred clay;
Since thy mercies, oft of old
By thy chofen feers foretold,
Faithful now and ftedfaft prove,
God of truth, and God of love!
Since at length my aged eye
Sees the day-fpring from on high!
Son of righteoufnefs, to thee,
La the nations bow the knee;
And the realms of distant kings
Own the healing of thy wings.
Thofe whom death had overfpread
With his dark and dreary fhade,
Lift their eyes, and from afar
Hail the light of Jacob's Star;
Waiting till the promis'd ray
Turn their darkness into day.
See the beams, intenfely fhed,
Shine o'er Sion's favour'd head!
Never may they hence remove,
God of truth, and God of love!
90. The Benedicite paraphrafed. MERRICK. YE works of God, on him alone,
In earth his footstool, heav'n his throne,
Be all your praise bestow'd;
Whofe hand the beauteous fabric made,
Whofe eye the finish'd work furvey'd,
And faw that all was good.
Ye angels, that with loud acclaim
Admiring view'd the new-born frame,
And hail'd the Eternal King,
Again proclaim your Maker's praife;
Again your thankful voices raife,
And touch the tuneful ftring.
Ye waters that above him roll,
From orb to orb, from pole to pole,
O make his praifes known!
Ye thrones, dominions, virtues, pow'rs,
Join ye your joyful fongs with ours;
With us your voices raife;
From age to age extend the lay,
To heaven's Eternal Monarch pay
Hymns of eternal praise.
Celeftial orb whofe powerful ray
Opes the glad eyelids of the day,
Whofe influence all things own;
Praife him, whofe courts effulgent thine
With light as far excelling thine,
As thine the paler moon.
Ye glitt'ring planets of the fky,
Whofe lamps the abfent fun fupply,
With him the fong purfue;
And let himfelf fubmittive own,
He borrows from a brighter Sun
The light he lends to you.
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