Through 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.

II.

Soon as the ev'ning shades prevail,

The moon takes up the wond'rous tale,
And nightly to the list'ning earth,
Repeats the story of her birth:

Whilst all the stars that round her burn,
And all the planets in their turn,
Confirm the tidings as they roll,

And spread the truth from pole to pole.

III.

What though in solemn silence, all
Move round the dark terrestrial ball?
What though, nor real voice nor sound
Amid their radiant orbs be found?
In reason's ear they all rejoice,
And utter forth a glorious voice,

For ever singing as they shine,
The hand that made us is divine.

DIVINE ODE.'

1

I.

How are thy servants blest, O Lord!

How sure is their defence !

Eternal Wisdom is their guide,

Their help Omnipotence.

1 Published in the Spectator as a 'Divine Ode,' made by a gentleman

on the conclusion of his travels.-G.

II.

In foreign realms and lands remote,
Supported by thy care,

Through burning climes I pass'd unhurt,
And breath'd in tainted air.

II.

Thy mercy sweeten'd every soil,
Made every region please:

The hoary Alpine hills it warm'd,
And smooth'd the Tyrrhene seas.

IV.

Think, O my soul, devoutly think,
How with affrighted eyes,
Thou saw'st the wide extended deep1
In all its horrors rise!

V.

Confusion dwelt in ev'ry face,

And fear in ev'ry heart,

When waves on waves, and gulfs on gulfs,
O'ercame the pilot's art.

VI.

Yet then from all my griefs, O Lord,

Thy mercy set me free,
Whilst in the confidence of pray'r

My soul took hold on thee.

'The allusion in these lines is to a violent gale he encountered in his Italian tour.-Vide Life.-G.

VII.

For though in dreadful whirls we hung High on the broken wave,

I knew thou wert not slow to hear,

Nor impotent to save.

VIII.

The storm was laid, the winds retir'd,
Obedient to thy will;

The sea that roar'd at thy command,
At thy command was still.

IX.

In midst of dangers, fears, and death, Thy goodness I'll adore,

And praise thee for thy mercies past, And humbly hope for more.

X.

My life, if thou preserv'st my life,

Thy sacrifice shall be;

And death, if death must be my doom, Shall join my soul to thee!

HYMN.1

I.

WHEN rising from the bed of death,

O'erwhelm'd with guilt and fear,

I see my Maker face to face,

O how shall I appear!

'Originally published in the Spectator.