M }SCELLANEOUS THOWGHTS." Around the frozen pole : Then promis'd health That rides with rosy cheek and blooming grace On a May sun beam should attend me here Before to-morrow sheds its evening -dew. Ah ! foolish ravings of a fruitless wish, And spirit too impatient ! Know'st thou 'not, My soul, the power that made thee ? He alone Who form'd the spheres, rolls them in destin'd rounds Unchangeable. Adore, and trust, and fear him: He is the Lord of life. Address his throne, And wait before his foot, with awful hope Submissive ; at his touch distemper flies ; His eyelids send beams of immortal youth Thro' heaven's bright regions. His all- powerful word Can health create, and bid the blessing come Amid the wintry.frost, when nature.seems Congeal'd in death ; or with a sovereign frown (Tho' nature blooms all round) be can forbid The blessing in the spring, and chain thee down To pains, and maladies, and grievous bondage, Theo' all the circling seasons: The Wearisome Weeks of Sickness. 1712, or 1713. THUS pass my days away. The chearful sun Rolls round and gilds the world with lightsome beams, Alas, in vain to me ; cut off alike From the bless'd labours, and the joys of life : While my sad minutes in their tiresome. train Serve but to number out my heavy sorrows. By night I count the clock ; perhaps eleven, Or twelve, or one ; then with a wishful sigh Call on the ling'ring hours, " Come two, come five : When will thesîay-lightcome ?" Make haste,ye mornings, Ye evening- shadows haste ; wear out these days, These tedious rounds of sickness, and conclude The weary week for ever Then the sweet day of sacred rest returns, Sweet day of rest, devote to God and heaven, And heavenly business, purposes divine, Angelic work ; but not to me returns Rest with the day : Ten thousand hurrying thoughts Bear me away tumultuous far from heaven And heavenly work: In vain I. heave and toil, And wrestle with my inward foes in vain, O'erpower'd and vanquish'd still. They drag use down 'From things celestial, and confine my sense To present maladies. Unhappy state; Where the poor spirit is subdn'd t' endure Unholy idleness, a painful absence, And bound to bear the agonies and woes From God, and heaven, and angel's blessed work, That sickly flesh on shatter'd neryes impose. How long, O Lord, how long? A Hymn of Praise for Recovery. HAPPY for man, that the slow circling moons And long revolving seasons measure out 387
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