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What though, in solemn silence, all,
Move round the dark terrestrial ball ?
What though no real voice nor sound
Amid these radiant orbs be found ?
In reason's ear they all rejoice,
And utter forth a glorious voice,
Forever singing, as they shine,
" The hand that made us is divine."


How are thy servants blest, O Lord !

How sure is their defence! Eternal wisdom is their guide,

Their help Omnipotence.

In foreign realms, and lands remote,

Supported by thy care, Through burning climes I passed unhurt,

And breath'd in tainted air.

Thy mercy sweetened every soil,

Made every region please ;
The hoary Alpine hills it warmed,

And smooth'd the Tyrrhene seas.

Think, O my soul, devoutly think,

How, with affrighted eyes
Thou saw'st the wide extended deep

In all its horrors rise.

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

High on the broken wave,
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 roared at thy command,

At thy command was still.

In midst of dangers, fears, and deaths,

Thy goodness I'll adore,
And praise thee for thy mercies past,

And humbly hope for more.

My life, if thou preserv'st my life,

Thy sacrifice shall be;
And death, if death must be my lot,

Shall join my soul to thee.

Born 1674-Died 1718.

Watts was taught Latin, Greek, and Hebrew at an early age, at the free school at Southampton, his native place. His proficiency was so great, that it was proposed to send him to the University ; but he resolved to take his lot with the dissenters. “ Such he was,” says Dr. Johnson, “as every Christian church would rejoice to have adopted.” His edueation was therefore completed at an academy. He declares that he was a maker of verses from fifteen to forty.

He began to preach in his twenty-fourth year, being chosen assistant to Dr. Chauncey in Southampton, whom he afterwards succeeded. In 1712, he was attacked by a fever of such length and violence, that he never entirely recovered from the weakness to which it reduced him. In this state he found in Sir Thomas Abney a friend, such as is not often to be met with. That gentleman received him into his own house, where he remained an inmate of the family for thirtysix years, and was uniformly treated with the most unalterable friendship, kindness, and attentive respect.

He continued the associate pastor of his congregation through life; for when, from the infirmities of age having become unable to perform the public duties of his office, he offered to remit" the salary connected with it, his people affectionately refused to accept his resignation. In this calm and pious retreat, where every thing contributed to sooth his feelings and promote his restoration to health, he composed most of his voluminous and valuable works. And here he died, after a long life of the most devoted piety and extensive usefulness.

“By his natural temper,” says Dr.Johnson," he was quick of resentment; but by his established and habitual practice he was gentle, modest, and inoffensive. His tenderness appeared in his attention to children and to the poor. To the poor, while he lived in the family of his friend, he allowed the third part of his annual revenue, though the whole was not a hundred a year; and for children he condescended to lay aside

the scholar, the philosopher, and the wit, to write little poems of devotion, and systems of instruction, adapted to their wants and capacities, from the dawn of reason through its gradations of advance in the morning of life. Every man acquainted with the common principles of human action will look with veneration on the writer, who is at one time combating Locke, and at another making a catechism for children in their fourth year. A voluntary descent from the dignity of science is perhaps the hardest lesson that humility can teach. With his theological works I am only enough acquainted to admire his meekness of opposition, and his mildness of censure.” Dr. Doddridge has likewise artlessly described the character and pursuits of his venerated friend, in an affectionate dedication to him of his “Rise and Progress of Religion in the Soul.”

Amidst many things that were unnatural, or trite, Watts has displayed a very vivid imagination, and produced some of the most suitable devotional lyrics in the English language. His poetry is always religiously pure, and some of its shorter strains burn with the chastened sublimity of his pious emotions, expressed in language which could hardly have been rendered more appropriately beautiful. Considered as the work of one mind, his volume of Psalms and Hymns is a remarkable production, and if the best of its contents were selected and published together, such a book would alone entitle him to a high rank among the British poets. His hymns for infant minds display, likewise, a true poetical genius. Had he made poetry the business of his life, his success would doubtless have been eminent; it was only his relaxation. “He is one of the few poets," says Johnson, “with whom youth and ignorance may be safely pleased; and happy will be that reader, whose mind is disposed, by his verses or his prose, to copy his benevolence to man and his reverence to God.”



Every grief we feel,
Shortens the destin'd number: every pulse
Bears a sharp moment of the pain away,
And the last stroke will come. By swift degrees
Time sweeps us off, and we shall soon arrive
At life's sweet period : O celestial point,
That ends this mortal story!
But if a glimpse of light, with flattering ray,
Break through the clouds of life ; or wandering fire
Amidst the shades invite your unblest feet,
Beware the dancing meteor, faithless guide,
That leads the lonesome pilgrim wide astray,

To bogs, and fens, and pits, and certain death.
Should vicious pleasure take an angel form,
And at a distance rise by slow degrees,
Treacherous to wind herself into your heart,
Stand firm aloof; nor let the gaudy phantom
Too long allure your gaze, nor tempt your thoughts
In slavery to sense. Still may our souls
Claim kindred with the skies, nor mix with dust
Our holier affections.
O, there are gardens of the immortal kind,
That crown the heavenly Eden's rising hills
With beauty and with sweets; no lurking mischief
Dwells in the fruit, nor serpent twines the bough.
The branches bend, laden with life and bliss,
Ripe for the taste. But 'tis a steep ascent:
Hold fast the golden chain let down from Heaven;
'T will help your feet and wings-1 feel its force
Draw upwards-fastened to the pearly gate,
It guides the way unerring. Happy clue
Through this dark wild! ’T was wisdom's noblest work,
All join’d by power divine, and every link is love.


There is a land of pure delight,

Where saints immortal reign;
Infinite day excludes the night,

And pleasures banish pain.

There everlasting spring abides,

And never withering fowers:
Death, like a narrow sea, divides

This heavenly land from ours.

Sweet fields beyond the swelling flood

Stand drest in living green;
So to the Jews old Canaan stood,

While Jordan rolled between.

But timorous mortals start and shrink

To cross this narrow sea,
And linger, shivering on the brink,

And fear to launch away.

O could we make our doubts remove,

Those gloomy doubts that rise,--
And see the Canaan that we love,

With unbeclouded eyes.

Could we but climb where Moses stood,

And view the landscape o'er,
Not Jordan's stream nor death's cold flood

Should fright us from the shore.

It is needless to multiply quotations from a book so familiarly known and so constantly used in public, social, and private worship, as the Psalms and Hymns of Watts. Though unequal, they are sometimes eminently beautiful. Let us take for example of their happiest and frequent excellence, the following stanza.

Pure are the joys above the sky,

And all the region peace;
No wanton lips nor envious eye

Can see or taste the bliss.


Born 1681-Died 1765.

The father of Young was a pious and honored clergyman in the Church of England. The poet was educated principally at Oxford University, where he obtained a fellowship in law. In this profession he never practised, but seems to have made poetry his chief employment, till in 1728 he entered into orders, and was appointed chaplain to the king. In 1730 he was presented to a rectory of three hundred pounds, and in the year following married the lady Elizabeth Lee, daughter of the earl of Litchfield. This lady died in 1741, in which year he commenced his Night Thoughts.

In the early part of his life, Young is said to have been ambitious and profligate; but it is remarkable that his earliest poetry is of the most serious cast, and the following anecdote is related of his conversation. The infidel, Tindal, used to spend much of his time at the college where Young resided. “The other boys,” said the atheist, “I can always answer, because I always know whence they have their arguments, which I have read a hundred times; but that fellow, Young, is continually pestering me with something of his own."

As a clergyman, he was distinguished for his piety and eloquence. His turn of mind was solemn, and his conversation, as well as his writings, all had reference to a future state. Yet he seems always to have been greatly addicted to flattery, and he did not cease to seek for preferment, even till his death.

As a poet, he possessed a very strong and sublime imagination, unaccompanied to an equal degree by delicacy of judgment or refinement of taste. Hence his poems, while they

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