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Learn of me, thus cries the Saviour,
If my kingdom you'd inherit; Sinner, quit your proud behaviour,
Learn my meek and lowly spirit. Come, ye servants, see your station,
Freed from all reproach and shame ; He who purchas'd your salvation,
Bore a servant's humble name.
Come, ye poor, some comfort gather
Faint not in the race you run;
Gave his dear, his only Son.
Less of worldly good bestow,
Which from wealth and grandeur flow. See your
Saviour is ascended !
Bear His cross, you'll share His crown.
The following lines were written by Hannah More for her own
use, in early life, but a copy having been given to a friend, the author was importuned to print it. She complied, and prefixed to the piece the following
“As early rising is very conducive to health, and to the improvement of the mind in knowledge and piety, this Soliloquy is designed to promote so important an end; and is recommended more particularly to young persons, as, by contracting a habit of rising early in the days of their youth, they would be less liable to depart from such a custom as they advance in life. The last stanza is expressive of the action of rising, in order that those who repeat it may have no excuse for not quitting their beds immediately. Sort slumbers now mine
With heavenly strength endued !
My mind imprison'd keep;
With thee, thou felon SLEEP.
One lavish'd hour retrieve,
What treasures would they give !
But seas of pearl, and mines of gold,
Were offer'd them in vain ; Their pearl of countless price is lost,*
And where's the promis'd gain? Lord, when thy day of dread account
For squander'd hours shall come, Oh let them not increase th' amount,
And swell the former sum !
Teach me in health each good to prize,
I, dying, shall esteem;
I then shall worthless deem.
For all thy wondrous mercies past
My grateful voice I raise, While thus I quit the bed of rest
Creation's Lord to praise.
See Matthew xiii. 46.
A HYMN OF PRAISE,
A BUNDANT HARVEST OF 1796.
AFTER A YEAR OF SCARCITY.
GREAT God! when famine threaten'd late
To scourge our guilty land,
To dread thy mighty hand ?
Or own'd we God was just ?
Or bow'd we in the dust?
'Tis true, we fail'd not to repine,
But did we too repent ?
In awful judgment sent?
And war, with ruthless sword, Unpeoples nations at a stroke,
Yet who regards the Lord ?
But God, who in his strict decrees,
Remembers mercy still,
Our hearts with comfort fill.
Domestic hate increase ;
To teach us love and peace.
Has blessings still in store ;
He loves us but the more.
Our golden harvests spoil ;
Rewards the reaper's toil !
In Canaan's fruitful land;
By famine's pressing hand !
Each fierce and jarring feud ;
They lov'd as brothers should.
Though famine fail'd to move;
Soul! thou hast goods in store !
To feed the hungry poor. These three visitations followed each other in quick sucsession.