And makes her alter'd eyes irradiate roll,
With joy that dawns in thought upon the foul.

Now let the town, and tent, and court remain,
And leap the time till Hannah comes again.
As painted profpects skip along the green,
From hills to mountains eminently feen,
And leave their intervals that fink below,
In deep retreat, and unexprefs'd to show.

Behold! fhe comes (but not as once he came, To grieve, to figh, and teach her eyes to ftream), Content adorns her with a lively face,

An open look, and smiling kind of grace;
Her little Samuel in her arms the bears,
The wish of long defire, and child of prayers;
And as the facrifice fhe brought begun,
To reverend Eli fhe prefents her fon.

Here, cries the mother, here my Lord may fee
The woman come, who pray'd in grief by thee:
The child I fued for, God in bounty gave;
And what he granted, let him now receive.
But ftill the votary feels her temper move,
With all the tender violence of love,
That ftill enjoys the gift, and inly burns
To fearch for larger, or for more returns.

Then, fill'd with bleffings which allure to praise,
And rais'd by joy to foul-enchanting lays,
Thus thanks the Lord, beneficently kind,
In fweet effufions of the grateful mind:

My lifting heart, with more than common heat,
Sends
up its thanks to God on every beat,

1

My glory, rais'd above the reach of scorn,
To God exalts its highly-planted horn;
My mouth enlarg'd, mine enemies defies,
And finds in God's falvation full replies.
Oh, bright in holy beauty's power divine,

There's none whofe glory can compare with thine!
None fhare thine honours, nay, there's none befide,
No rock on which thy creatures can confide.

Ye proud in spirits, who your gift adore,

Unlearn the faults, and speak with pride no more;
No more your words in arrogance be shown,
Nor call the works of Providence your own,
Since he that rules us infinitely knows,
And, as he wills, his acts of power dispose.

;

The ftrong, whofe finewy forces arch'd the bow, Have feen it shatter'd by the conquering foe The weak have felt their nerves more firmly brace, And new-1 v-fprung vigour in the limbs encrease. The Full, whom vary'd taftes of plenty fed, Have let their labour out to gain their bread. The Poor, that languish'd in a starving state, Content and full, have ceas'd to beg their meat. The Barren Womb, no longer barren now, (Oh, be my thanks accepted with my vow!) In pleasure wonders at a mother's pain, And fees her offspring, and conceives again; While fhe that glory'd in her numerous heirs, Now broke by feebleness, no longer bears.

Such turns their rifing from the Lord derive, The Lord that kills, the Lord that makes alive;

He brings by fickness down to gaping graves,
And, by reftoring health, from fickness faves.
He makes the Poor by keeping back his store,
And makes the Rich by bleffing men with more ;
He finking hearts with bitter grief annoys,
Or lifts them bounding with enliven’d joys.
He takes the Beggar from his humble clay,
From off the dunghill where defpis'd he lay,
To mix with Princes in a rank fupreme,
Fill thrones of honour, and inherit fame:
For all the pillars of exalted state,
So nobly firm fo beautifully great,

Whofe various orders bear the rounded balls
Which would without them to confufion fall,
All are the Lord's, at his difpofure stand,
And prop the govern'd world at his command.
His mercy, ftill more wonderfully sweet,
Shall guard the righteous, and uphold their feet,
While, through the darkness of the wicked foul,
Amazement, dread, and defperation roll;
While envy ftops their tongues, and hopless grief;
That fees their fears, but not their fears relief.
And they their strength as unavailing view,
Since none fhall truft in that and fafety too.

The foes of Ifrael, for his Ifrael's fake,
God will to picces in his anger break ;
His bolts of thunder, from an open'd sky,
Shall on their heads, with force unerring, fly.
His voice fhall call, and all the world fhall hear,
And all for fentence at his feat appear.

But mount to gentler praises, mount again,
My thoughts, prophetic of Meffiah's reign;
Perceive the glories which around him shine,
And thus thine hymn be crown'd with grace divine.
'Tis here the numbers find a bright repofe,
The vows accepted, and the votary goes.

But thou, my foul, upon her accents hung,
And sweetly pleas'd with what the fweetly fung, -
Prolong the pleasure with thine inward eyes,
Turn back thy thoughts, and fee the subject rife.
In her peculiar cafe, the fong begun,

And for a while through private bleffings run,
As through their banks the curling waters play,
And foft in murmurs kifs the flowery way,
With force encreasing then the leaps the bounds, -
And largely flows on more extended grounds;
Spreads wide and wider, till vast seas appear,
And boundless views of Providence are here.
How fwift thefe views along her anthem glide,
As waves on waves push forward in the tide! .
How swift thy wonders o'er my fancy fweep, .
O Providence, thou great unfathom'd deep!
Where Refignation gently dips the wing,
And learns to love and thank, admire and fing;
But bold prefumptuous reasonings, diving down
To reach the bottom, in their diving drown..

Neglecting man, forgetful of thy ways,
Nor owns thy care, nor thinks of giving praife, .
But from himself his happiness derives,
And thanks his wifdom, when by thine he thrives;

His limbs at eafe in foft repose he spreads,
Bewitch'd with vain delights, on flowery beds
And, while his fenfe the fragrant breezes kiss,
He meditates a waking dream of blifs;

He thinks of kingdoms, and their crowns are near;
He thinks of glories, and their rays appear;

He thinks of beauties, and a lovely face
Serenely miles in every taking grace;

He thinks of riches, and their heaps arife,
Display their glittering forms, and fix his eyes;
Thus drawn with pleasures in a charming view,
Rifing he reaches, and would fain purfue.
But ftill the fleeting fhadows mock his care,
And ftill his fingers grafp at yielding air;
Whate'er our tempers as their comforts want,
It is not man's to take, but God's to grant.
If then, perfifting in the vain defign,
We look for blifs without an help divine,
We ftill may fearch, and search without relief,
Nor only want a bliss, but find a grief.
That fuch conviction may to fight appear,
Sit down, ye fons of men, fpectators here;
Behold a fcene upon your felly wrought,
And let this lively scene inftruct the thought.
Boy, blow the pipe until the bubble rife,
Then caft it off to float upon the skies;

Still fwell its fides with breath-O beauteous frame!
It grows, it fhines: be now the world thy name!
Methinks creation forms itself within,

The men, the towns, the birds, the trees, are feen ;

The