Adoration.

[Written on returning from his travels, and reviewing God's mercies to him.]

DEO OPT. MAX.

O THOU, who all things hast of nothing made,
Whose hand the radiant firmament display'd,
With such an undiscerned swiftnes hurl'd
About the stedfast centre of the world;
Against whose rapid course the restlesse sun,
And wandring flames in varied motions run;
Which heat, light, life infuse; time, night, and day
Distinguish; in our humane bodies sway:-
That hung'st the solid earth in fleeting aire,
Vein'd with cleare springs, which ambient seas repaire;
In clouds the mountaines wrap their hoary heads;
Luxurious vallies clothed with flowry meads:
Her trees yield fruit and shade; with liberall brests
All creatures she (their common mother) feasts:-
Then man thy image mad'st; in dignity,
In knowledge, and in beauty like to Thee:
Placed in a heaven on earth; without his toile
The ever-flourishing and fruitfull soile

Unpurchased food produced; all creatures were
His subjects, serving more for love than feare.
He knew no Lord, but Thee. But when he fell
From his obedience, all at once rebell,
And in his ruine exercise their might:
Concurring elements against him fight;
Troups of unknowne diseases; sorrow, age,
And death assaile him with successive rage.
Hell let forth all her furies; none so great,
As man to man; ambition, pride, deceit,
Wrong arm'd with power, lust, rapine, slaughter
reign'd:

And flatter'd vice the name of vertue gain'd.
Then hills beneath the swelling waters stood,
And all the globe of earth was but one floud;

Yet could not cleanse their guilt: the following race Worse than their fathers, and their sons more base. Their God-like beauty lost; sin's wretched thrawle; No sparke of their divine originall

Left unextinguisht; all inveloped

With darknesse; in their bold transgressions dead.
Then Thou didst from the East a light display,
Which rendred to the world a clearer day:

Whose precepts from hell's jawes our steps withdraw;
And whose example was a living law :

Who purged us with his bloud; the way prepared
To heaven, and those long-chain'd-up doores unbarr'd.
How infinite thy mercy! which exceeds

The world Thou mad'st, as well as our misdeeds!
Which greater reverence than thy iustice wins,
And still augments thy honour by our sins.
O who hath tasted of thy clemency
In greater measure or more oft, than I!
My gratefull verse thy goodnes shall display,
O Thou, who went'st along in all my way!
To where the morning with perfumed wings
From the high mountaines of Panchæa springs,
To that new-found-out world, where sober night
Takes from the' Antipodes her silent flight;
To those darke seas, where horrid winter reignes,
And binds the stubborne flouds in icie chaines:
To Libyan wastes, whose thirst no showres asswage,
And where swolne Nilus cooles the lion's rage.

Thy wonders in the deepe have I beheld;
Yet all by those on Judah's hills excell'd:
There where the virgin's Son his doctrine taught,
His miracles, and our redemption wrought:
Where I by Thee inspired his praises sung;
And on his sepulchre my offering hung.
Which way soe're I turne my face, or feet;

I see thy glory, and thy mercy meet.

Met on the Thracian shores; when in the strife
Of frantick Simoans Thou preserv'dst my life.
So when Arabian thieves belaid us round,
And when by all abandon'd, Thee I found.

That false Sidonian wolfe, whose craft put on
A sheepe's soft fleece, and me, Bellerephon,
To ruine by his cruell letter sent,

Thou didst by tlry protecting hand prevent.
Thou sav'dst me from the bloudy massacres
Of faithless Indians; from their treacherous wars;
From raging feavers, from the sultry breath

Of tainted aire, which cloy'd the jawes of death; Preserved from swallowing seas; when towering waves Mixt with the clouds, and open'd their deepe graves. From barbarous pirates ransom'd: by those taught Succesfully with Salian Moores we fought.

Thou brought'st me home in safety; that this earth Might bury me, which fed me from my birth: Blest with a healthfull age; a quiet mind, Content with little; to this worke design'd: Which I at length have finisht by thy aid; And now my vowes have at thy altar paid.

In the foregoing sublime and fervent thanksgiving of a heart "poured out before God," the Author alludes to an offering which he made at "the Holy Sepulchre," when he was at Jerusalem. The following are the lines, with his own simple and affecting introduction; in which the candid reader, whatever his private ideas may be respecting such places and ceremonies, will only consider the Poet's personal views and feelings on the occasion." Thousands of Christians perform their vows and offer their tears yearly, with all the expressions of sorrow, humility, affection and penitence. It is a frozen zeal that will not be warmed at the sight thereof; and Oh! that I could retain the effects that it wrought, with an unfainting perseverance, who then did dedicate this Hymn

To my Redeemer.

SAVIOUR of mankind, Man, Emmanuel!
Who sinless died for sin; who vanquish'd hell;
The first-fruits of the grave; whose life did give
Light to our darkness; in whose death we live :-
Oh! strengthen Thou my faith, convert my will,
That mine may thine obey; protect me still,
So that the latter Death may not devour
My soul, seal'd with thy seal.-So, in the hour,

When Thou (whose body sanctified this tomb,
Unjustly judged,) a glorious Judge shalt come
To judge the world with justice; by that sign,
I may be known, and entertain'd for thine."

DAVID DICKSON.

BORN ABOUT 1583. DIED 1662.

Sometime Minister of Irvine, Ayrshire, and successively Theological Professor in the Universities of Glasgow and Edinburgh. On his death-bed he said to a friend, "I have taken all my good deeds, and all my bad deeds, and have cast them together in a heap before the Lord, and have fled from both to Jesus Christ, in whom I have peace."-The following stanzas are extracted from a much larger number, some of which are very indifferent in versification, though all are delightfully devout. The perfect simplicity of these will be acceptable to every pious reader, and will offend no good taste. They are particularly curious and valuable as having been the original, though with various transmutations, by different hands, of one of the most beautiful Hymns in the language. The reader will find the latter in the "Christian Psalmist," No. 129. "Jerusalem, my happy home," &c.

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O MOTHER dear, Jerusalem!

When shall I come to thee?

When shall my sorrows have an end;
Thy joys when shall I see?

O happy harbour of God's saints!
O sweet and pleasant soil!
In thee no sorrows can be found;
No grief, no care, no toil.

No dimly cloud o'ershadows thee,
No gloom, nor darksome night,
But every soul shines as the sun,
For God himself gives light.

DICKSON.

Jerusalem, Jerusalem,

Would God I were with thee!
O that my sorrows had an end;
Thy joys that I might see!

Thy walls are made of precious stone,
Thy bulwarks diamond square;
Thy gates are made of orient pearl;
O God, if I were there!

O my sweet home, Jerusalem!
Thy joys when shall I see?

The King that sitteth on the throne,
And thy felicity?

Thy gardens, and thy goodly walks
Continually are green,

Where grow such sweet and lovely flowers,

As nowhere else are seen.

Quite through the street, with pleasant sound,

The flood of life doth flow;

And on the banks, on every side,

The trees of life do grow.

Those trees each month yield ripen'd fruit;

For evermore they spring;

And all the nations of the world

To thee their honours bring.

Jerusalem! Jerusalem!

Thy joys fain would I see;

Come quickly, Lord, and end my griefs,

And take me home to Thee.

O, in my forehead, plant thy name,

And take me hence away,

That I may dwell with Thee in bliss,
And sing thy praise for aye.

O mother dear, Jerusalem!
When shall I come to thee?

When shall my sorrows have an end?
Thy joys when shall I see?