What tho', in solemn silence, all Move round this dark terrestrial ball? What tho' nor real voice nor sound Amid their radiant orbs be found? "The hand that made us is Divine." PROVIDENCE. 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. When in the sultry glebe I faint, Tho' in the paths of death I tread, Thy friendly crook shall give me aid, Tho' in a bare and rugged way, With sudden green and herbage crown'd, And streams shall murmur all around, ADDISON. GRATITUDE. When all thy mercies, O my God, O how shall words with equal warmth That glows within my ravish'd heart? Thy providence my life sustain'd, And all my wants redrest, When in the silent womb I lay, To all my weak complaints and cries, Thy mercy lent an ear, Ere yet my feeble thoughts had learn'd To form themselves in pray'r. Unnumber'd comforts to my soul Thy tender care bestow'd, Before my infant heart conceiv'd From whom those comforts flow'd. When in the slipp'ry paths of youth With heedless steps I ran, Thine arm unseen convey'd me safe, And led me up to man. Thro' hidden dangers, toils, and deaths, It gently clear'd my way, And through the pleasing snares of vice, More to be fear'd than they. When worn with sickness oft hast thou And when in sins and sorrows sunk, Thy bounteous hand with worldly bliss Hath made my cup run o'er, And in a kind and faithful friend Hath doubled all my store. Ten thousand thousand precious gifts Nor is the least a cheerful heart, That tastes those gifts with joy. |