Prefs'd with a greater than feign'd Atlas' load
Deep groan'd the mount; it never bore

Infinity before,

It bow'd, and fhook beneath the burden of a God.

Freth horrors feize the camp; despair,

And dying groans, torment the air,

And fhrieks, and fwoons, and deaths were there: The bellowing thunder, and the lightning's blaze Spread through the host a wild amaze; Darkness on every foul, and pale was every face; Confus'd and difmal were the cries,

Let Moses speak, or Israel dies Mofes the spreading terror feels, No more the Man of God conceals His fhivering and furprize : Yet, with recovering mind, commands Silence, and deep attention, through the Hebrew bands.

Hark! from the centre of the flame,

All arm'd and feather'd with the fame,
Majestic founds break through the fmoaky cloud :
Sent from the All-creating tongue,

A flight of cherubs guard the words along,
And bear their fiery law to the retreating crowd.

"I am the Lord: 'Tis I proclaim

"That glorious and that fearful name,

Thy God and King: 'Twas I, that broke
"Thy bondage, and th' Egyptian yoke;
"Mine is the right to speak my will,

"And thine the duty to fulfil.
F 4

"Adore

" Adore no God befide Me, to provoke mine eyes : "Nor worship Me in fhapes and forms that men devife; "With reverence ufe my name, nor turn my words to jest; "Observe my fabbath well, nor dare prophane my rest; "Honour and due obedience to thy parents give;

"Nor fpill the guiltless blood, nor let the guilty live : "Preferve thy body chaste, and flee th' unlawful bed; "Nor steal thy neighbour's gold, his garment, or his "bread;

"Forbear to blaft his name with falfehood, or deceit ; "Nor let thy wishes loose upon his large estate.”

Remember your CREATOR, &C.

CH

Ecclef. xii.

HILDREN, to your Creator, God,
Your early honours pay,

While vanity and youthful blood
Would tempt your thoughts aftray.

The memory of his mighty name,
Demands your first regard;

Nor dare indulge a meaner flame,
Till you have lov'd the Lord.

Be wife, and make his favour fure,
Before the mournful days,

When youth and mirth are known no more,
And life and ftrength decays.

No more the blessings of a feast

Shall relish on the tongue, The heavy ear forgets the taste

And pleasure of a fong.

Old

Old age, with all her dismal train,

Invades your golden years

With fighs and groans, and raging pain,
And death, that never fpares.

What will ye do when light departs,
And leaves your withering eyes,

Without one beam to chear your
From the fuperior skies ?

hearts,

How will you meet God's frowning brow,

Or ftand before his feat,

While nature's old fupporters bow,

Nor bear their tottering weight?

Can you expect your

feeble arms,

Shall make a strong defence,
When death, with terrible alarms,
Summons the prisoner hence ?

The filver bands of nature burst,
And let the building fall;

The flesh

goes down to mix with duft,

Its vile original.

Laden with guilt, (a heavy load),

Uncleans'd and unforgiven, The foul returns t' an angry God,

To be fhut out from heaven.

Sun,

Sun, Moon, and Stars, praise ye the LORD.

FAIREST of all the lights above,

Thou fun, whofe beams adorn the spheres, And with unweary'd swiftness move,

To form the circles of our years;

Praife the Creator of the fkies,

That drefs'd thine orb in golden rays;
Or may the fun forget to rife,
If he forget his Maker's praise.

Thou reigning beauty of the night,
Fair queen of filence, filver moon,
Whofe gentle beams and borrow'd light
Are fofter rivals of the noon;

Arife, and to that Sovereign Power
Waxing and waning honours pay,
Who bade thee rule the dutky hour,
And half supply the absent day.

Ye twinkling stars, who gild the skies
When darkness has its curtains drawn,
Who keep your watch, with wakeful eyes,
When bufinefs, cares, and day, are gone:

Proclaim the glories of your Lord,
Dispers'd through all the heavenly street,
Whofe boundlefs treafures can afford

So rich a pavement for his feet.

Thou

Thou heaven of heavens, supremely bright,

Fair palace of the court divine,

Where, with inimitable light,

The Godhead condefcends to fhine;

Praise thou thy great Inhabitant,
Who fcatters lovely beams of grace
On every angel, every faint,
Nor veils the luftre of his face.

O God of Glory, God of Love,
Thou art the fun that makes our days:
With all thy fhining works above,
Let earth and duft attempt thy praise.

THE WELCOME MESSENGER.

L

ORD, when we fee a faint of thine
Lie gasping out his breath,

With longing eyes, and looks divine,
Smiling and pleas'd in death;

How we could ev'n contend to lay

Our limbs upon that bed!

We ask thine envoy to convey
Our fpirits in his stead.

Our fouls are rifing on the wing,

To venture in his place;

For when grim death has loft his fting,

He has an angel's face.

Jefus,