CCLXIV. On Recovery from Sickness, during which much of the divine Favour had been experienced.

MY GOD, thy Service well demands
The Remnant of my Days;

Why was this fleeting Breath renew'd,
But to renew thy Praise ?.

Thine Arms of everlasting Love
Did this weak Frame fustain,
When Life was hov'ring o'er the Grave,
And Nature funk with Pain.

Thou, when the Pains of Death were felt,
Didft chafe the Fears of Hell;
And teach my pale and quiv'ring Lips
Thy matchlefs Grace to tell.

Calmly I bow'd my fainting Head

On thy dear faithful Breast;
Pleas'd to obey my Father's Call
To his eternal Reft.

Into thy Hands, my Saviour-GoD,
Did I my Soul refign,

In firm Dependence on that Truth,
Which made Salvation mine.

Back from the Borders of the Grave
At thy Command I come :
Nor would I urge a speedier Flight
Το my celestial Home.

Where Thou determin'ft mine Abode,
There would I chufe to be;

For

For in thy Prefence Death is Life,

And Earth is Heav'n with Thee.

CCCLXV. The last Words of David. xxiii. 1-8 *.

I THUS hath the Son of Fee faid,

2 Sam.

When Ifrael's GOD had rais'd his Head
To high imperial Sway:

Struck with his last poetic Fire,

Zion's fweet Pfalmift tun'd his Lyre

To this harmonious Lay.

2-Thus dictates Ifrael's facred Rock:
Thus hath the GOD of Jacob spoke
By my refponfive Tongue :
Behold the JUST ONE Over Men
Commencing his religious Reign,
Great Subject of my Song!

3 So gently Thines with genial Ray
Th' unclouded Lamp of rifing Day,
And cheers the tender Flow'rs,
When Midnight's soft diffusive Rain
Hath blefs'd the Gardens and the Plain
With kind refreshing Show'rs.

4 Shall not my House this Honour boast?
My Soul th' eternal Cov'nant trust,
Well-order'd ftill and fure ?

There all my Hopes and Wishes meet :
In Death I call its Bleffings fweet,

And feel its Bond fecure.

* Agreeable to the ingenious metrical Verficn of the learned Dr. Richard Grey.

8 No Rage of your own fuch Rigour demands;
A Sentence divine your Arms must fulfil:

Of old he this Vengeance confign'd to your Hands,
And in facred Volumes recorded his Will.

9 This Honour, ye Saints, appointed for you,
All-grateful receive, and faithful obey;

And, while this dread Pleasure refiftless ye do,
Still make his high Praises the Song of the Day,

CCCLXVII. For the Thanksgiving-Day for the Peace, April 25, 1749.

1 NOW let our Songs addrefs the God of Peace,
Who bids the Tumult of the Battle ceafe;
The pointed Spears to pruning-hooks he bends,
And the broad Faulchion in the Plow-fhare ends.
His pow'rful Word unites contending Nations
In kind Embrace, and friendly Salutations.

2 Britain, adore the Guardian of thy State;
Who, high on his celeftial Throne elate,
Still watchful o'er thy Safety and Repose,
Frown'd on the Counfels of thy haughtieft Foes;
Thy Coaft fecur'd from ev'ry dire Invasion
Of Fire and Sword and fpreading Defolation.

3

When Rebel-bands with defp'rate Madness join'd' He wafted o'er Deliv'rance with his Wind;

Drove back the Tide, that delug'd half our Land, And curb'd their Fury with his mightier Hand: Till dreadful Slaughter, and the last Confufion. Taught thofe audacious Sinners their Delufion.

4

He gave our Fleets to triumph o'er the Main,
And scatter Terrors 'crofs wide Ocean's Plain:
Oppofing Leaders trembled at the Sight,

Nor found their Safety in th' attempted Flight; Taught by their Bonds, how vainly they pretended Those to diftrefs, whom Ifrael's GoD defended.

5 Fierce Storms were fummon'd up in Britain's Aid,
And meagre Famine hoftile Lands o'erfpread;
By Suff'rings bow'd their Conquefts they releafe,
Nor fcorn the Overtures of equal Peace:
Contending Pow'rs congratulate the Bleffing,
Joint Hymns of Gratitude to Heav'n addreffing.
6 While we beneath our Vines and Fig-trees fit,
Or thus within thy facred Temple meet,

Accept, Great God, the Tribute of our Song,
And all the Mercies of this Day prolong.
Then spread thy peaceful Word thro' ev'ry Nation,
That all the Earth may hail thy great Salvation.

CCCLXVIII. The Blessing pronounced upon Ifrael by the Priefs. Numbers vi. 24-27

For New-Year's Day.

1 GUARDIAN of Ifrael, Source of Peace Who haft ordain'd thy Priefts to blefs, Shine forth as our propitious Lord,

And verify thy Servants Word.

2 Let thy own Pow'r defend us ftill
Thro' all the Year from ev'ry Ill;
And let the Splendor of thy Face
Chear all its bright or gloomy Days.

8 No Rage of your own fuch Rigour demands;

A Sentence divine your Arms must fulfil:

Of old he this Vengeance confign'd to your Hands, And in facred Volumes recorded his Will.

9 This Honour, ye Saints, appointed for you, All-grateful receive, and faithful obey;

do,

And, while this dread Pleasure refiftless ye
Still make his high Praises the Song of the Day,

CCCLXVII. For the Thanksgiving-Day for the Peace, April 25, 1749.

1 NOW let our Songs addrefs the God of Peace,
Who bids the Tumult of the Battle ceafe;
The pointed Spears to pruning-hooks he bends,
And the broad Faulchion in the Plow-fhare ends.
His pow'rful Word unites contending Nations
In kind Embrace, and friendly Salutations.

2 Britain, adore the Guardian of thy State;
Who, high on his celeftial Throne elate,
Still watchful o'er thy Safety and Repose,
Frown'd on the Counfels of thy haughtieft Foes;
Thy Coaft fecur'd from ev'ry dire Invasion
Of Fire and Sword and fpreading Defolation.

3

When Rebel-bands with defp'rate Madness join'd He wafted o'er Deliv'rance with his Wind;

Drove back the Tide, that delug'd half our Land, And curb'd their Fury with his mightier Hand: Til dreadful Slaughter, and the last Confusion. Taught thofe audacious Sinuers their Delufion.