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O thou, from whose all-gracious eye

The sun of splendour beams; Whose glories ev'ry ray supply,

That gilds the trembling streams;
O'er nature's green and teeming fields

Bid flow'ry graces rise,
And ev'ry sweet, creation yields,

Salute the morning skies.
Where yonder moves the plough of toil

Along the stubborn land,
O kindly lift the yielding soil,

And soothe the lab’ring hand.
Thence bid gay fruitfulness around

Her blooming reign extend ;
And where thy richest gifts are found,

Tell who the heav'nly friend.
As with her smiles, life's weary vale

Is gentler trod below;
With thine, the closing home we hail,

That shuts us in from woe!
Till that celestial home is ours,

Let us its Lord implore,
Content may cheer our pilgrim hours,

And guide us to the door.

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And nature's verdant charms recall

The mildness of the soul.
O thou, from whose all-gracious efe

The san of splendour beams;
Whose glories ev'ry ray supply,

That gilds the trembling streams ;
O'er nature's green and teeming fields

Bid flow'ry graces rise,
And ev'ry sweet, creation yields,

Salute the morning skies.
Where yonder moves the plough of toil

Along the stubborn land,
O kindly lift the yielding soil,

And sootbe the lab'ring band.
Thence bid gay fruitfulness around

Her blooming reign extend;
And where thy richest gifts are found,

Tell who the hear'nly friend.
As with her smiles, life's weary vale

Is gentler trod below;
With thine, the closing home we hail,

That shuts us in from woe!
Till that celestial home is ours,

Let us its Lord implore,
Content may cheer our pilgrim hours,

And guide us to the door.

Then when so fit to lift the song

To gratitude and heav'n,
To whom her purple charms belong,

From whom those charms are giv'n?
Thee, thee, Almighty King of kings,

Man worships not alone;
Each budding flow'r its incense brings,

And wafts it to thy throne.
The fields with verdant mantle gay,

The grove's sequester'd walks,
All, all around, thy praise display,

And dumb creation talks.
When Morn, with rosy fingers fair,

Her golden journey takes ;
When fresh’ning Zephyrs fan the air,

And animation wakes ;
Man starts from emblematic death,

And bends the grateful knee
To welcome with transported breath

New light, and life, and thee!
When Noon averts his radiant face,

And shuts his piercing eye;
And Eve, with modest measur'd pace,

Steps up the western sky,
Repos'd beneath thy guardian winds

The pious mortal rests;
Nor knows one watchful care that springs

Within unholy breasts.
What then, if pealing thunders roll,

If lightnings flash afar !
Undaunted hears his sainted soul

The elemental war.

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'Tis but to him a parent's voice,

That blesses while it blames; That bids unburden'd air rejoice,

And life and bealth proclaims. Night's deepest gloom is but a calm,

That sooths the wearied mind;
The labour'd day's restoring balm,

The comfort of mankind.
O thus may heav'n and holy peace

Smooth soft the rocks of age;
Till thou shalt bid existence cease,

And tear its blotted page :
Till storms no more or tempests rage,

And death's dark vale I see;
That vale, which, through the shadowy grave,

But leads to heav'n and tbee !

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AUTUMN.

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Fair Autumn spreads her fields of gold,

And waves her amber wand; See earth its yellow charms unfold

Beneath her magic hand!
Uprivall'd beauty decks our vales,

Bright fruitfulness our plains ;
Gay health with cheerfulness prevails,

And smiling glory reigns.
To thee, great lib'ral source of all,

We strike our earthly lyre;
Till fate our rising soul shall call,

And angels form the choir.
The splendour that enchants our eyes,

Reminds us of thy fame;

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The blessings that from earth arise

Thy gen'rous hand proclaim.
The plenty round our meadows seen

Is emblem of thy love;
And harmony, that binds the scene,
peace

that reigns above.
Beneath the sickle, smiling round,

And in destruction fair,
The golden harvest strews the ground,

And shuts the labour'd year.
Man drops into refreshing rest,

And smooths his wearied brow;
With rural peace the herds are blest,

And nature smiles below!
O let thy hand, parental King,

Be open to our pray'rs!
Unlock sweet plenty’s lib'ral spring,

And show'r untainted airs.
And send me thro' life's noiseless way,

With innocence my guide :
Let no temptations bid me stray,

And leave her angel side !
O let the bird of tuneful breath,

The beast that frisks on earth,
The fish that sports the wave beneath,

Enjoy their short-liv'd mirth!
Let no rude instrument of fate

Arrest the flutt'ring wing;
No horns re-echo at my gate,

That smiles and slaughter bring;
No quav'ring line, with tortur'd snare

In agonizing fraud,

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Hank! 'twas dark Winter's sullen voice,

That told the glooms that reign’d; That bad the plains no more rejoice,

And all the waves be chain'd;
And see green Autumn dies away;

The pallid sire is come!
The plains his shiv'ring rules obey,

And ev'ry wave is dumb !
Yet still with cheerful heart I pace

The whiten'd vale below :
And smile at ev'ry printed trace

I leave upon the snow.
Thus (soft I whisper to my breast,)

Man treads life's weary waste;
Each step that leads to better rest

Forgot as soon as past!
For what is life and all its bliss

The splendour of a fly;
The breathing of a morning's kiss ;

A Summer's flushing sky.
Dismantled lies the gaudy fly;

Morn droops at evening's frown; And Summer, tho' so gay her eye,

Tempestuous terrors crown!

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