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; defpair,

And dying groans, torment the air,

And shrieks, 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

Confus'd and difmal were the cries,
Let Mofes fpeak, or Ifrael dies:
Mofes the spreading terror feels,
No more the Man of God conceals
His fhivering and furprize :
Yet, with recovering mind, commands

face

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 sounds break through the smoaky 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.

“Adore no God befide Me, to provoke mine eyes: "Nor worship Me in shapes and forms that men devife; "With reverence ufe my name, nor turn my words to jeft; "Obferve 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 fteal 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. Ecclef. xii.

CHILDREN, 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 firkt 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 bleffings of a feast

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

And pleasure of a fong.

Old

Old age, with all her difmal 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 hearts,

From the fuperior skies?

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 ftrong 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, praife ye the Lo R D.

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,
Whose 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 dulky hour,
And half supply the absent day.

Ye twinkling ftars, 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,
Difpers'd through all the heavenly street,
Whofe boundlefs treasures can afford

So rich a pavement for his feet.

Thou

Thou heaven of heavens, fupremely bright,

Fair palace of the court divine,

Where, with inimitable light,

The Godhead condefcends to fhine;

Praife thou thy great Inhabitant,
Who scatters 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 dust attempt thy praise.

THE WELCOME MESSENGER.

LORD, 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 lost his sting,

He has an angel's face.

Jefus,