When in the slippery paths of youth I Thine arm, unseen, convey'd me safe, Through hidden dangers, toils, and death, And through the pleasing snares of vice, When worn with sickness, oft hast thou Revived my soul with grace. Thy bounteous hand with worldly bliss Ten thousand thousand precious gifts Through every period of my life When nature fails, and day and night My ever-grateful heart, O Lord! Through all eternity to Thee A joyful song I'll raise; For oh! eternity's too short To utter all thy praise. HYMN III. How are thy servants bless'd, O Lord! In foreign realms, and lands remote, Confusion dwelt on every face, And fear in every heart; When waves on waves, and gulfs on gulfs, `O'ercame the pilot's art. 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. For though in dreadful whirls we hung I knew thou wert not slow to hear, Nor impotent to save. The storm was laid, the winds retired, Obedient to thy will; The sea, that roar'd at thy command, At thy command was still. In midst of dangers, fears, and death, And praise thee for thy mercies past, My life, if thou preserv'st my life, And death, if death must be my Shall join my soul to thee. doom, HYMN IV. WHEN rising from the bed of death, If yet, while pardon may be found, My heart with inward horror shrinks, And trembles at the thought: When thou, O Lord! shalt stand disclosed In majesty severe, And sit in judgment on my soul, O how shall I appear? But thou hast told the troubled soul, Who does her sins lament, The timely tribute of her tears Shall endless woe prevent. Then see the sorrows of Ere yet it be too late; my heart, And add my Saviour's dying groans, 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. THE Lord my pasture shall prepare And feed me with a shepherd's care: When in the sultry glebe I faint, Though, in a bare and rugged way, PROLOGUE TO PHÆDRA AND HIPPOLITUS. 1707. And from the dull fatigue of thinking free, Our homespun authors must forsake the field, To your new taste the poet of this day [joy, Shunn'd Phædra's arms, and scorn'd the proffer'd It had not moved your wonder to have seen PROLOGUE TO THE TENDER HUSBAND. 1705. In the first rise and infancy of farce, [scarce, When fools were many, and when plays were The raw unpractised authors could, with ease, A young and unexperienced audience please : |