36

There everlasting Spring abides,
And never-withering Flowers:
Death like a narrow Sea divides

This Heav'nly Land from ours.

Sweet Fields beyond the Swelling Flood
Stand drest in living Green:
So to the Jews old Canaan stood,
While Jordan roll'd between

But timorous Mortals start and shrink
To cross this narrow Sea,
And linger shivering on the Brink,
And fear to lanch away.

O could we make our Doubts remove,
These gloomy Doubts that rise,
And see the Canaan that we love,
With unbeclouded Eyes.

Could we but climb where Moses stood,

And view the Landskip o're,

Not Jordan's Stream, nor Death's cold Flood,
Should fright us from the Shore.

Hymns and Spiritual Songs, 1707

Man Frail, and God Eternal

UR God, our Help in Ages past,

Our Shelter from the Stormy Blast,
And our eternal Home.

Under the Shadow of thy Throne
Thy Saints have dwelt secure;
Sufficient is thine Arm alone,
And our Defence is sure.

Before the Hills in order stood,
Or Earth receiv'd her Frame,
From everlasting Thou art God,
To endless Years the same.

Thy Word commands our Flesh to Dust,
Return, ye Sons of Men:

All Nations rose from Earth at first,
And turn to Earth again.

A thousand Ages in thy Sight

Are like an Evening gone;

Short as the Watch that ends the Night
Before the rising Sun.

The busy Tribes of Flesh and Blood
With all their Lives and Cares
Are carried downwards by thy Flood,
And lost in following Years.

Time like an ever-rolling Stream

Bears all its Sons away;
They fly forgotten as a Dream
Dies at the opening Day.

Like flow'ry Fields the Nations stand
Pleas'd with the Morning-light;

The Flowers beneath the Mower's Hand
Ly withering e'er 'tis Night.

37

Our God, our Help in Ages past,
Our Hope for Years to come,

Be thou our Guard while Troubles last,
And our eternal Home.

The Psalms of David Imitated, 1719

Against Quarrelling and Fighting

LET Dogs delight to bark and bite,

For God hath made them so;

Let Bears and Lions growl and fight,
For 'tis their Nature too.

But, Children, you should never let
Such angry Passions rise;

Your little Hands were never made
To tear each other's Eyes.

Let Love thro' all your Actions run,
And all Words be mild;

your

Live like the blessed Virgin's Son,

That sweet and lovely Child.

His Soul was gentle as a Lamb;
And as his Stature grew,

He

grew in Favour both with Man, And God his Father too.

Now, LORD of all, he reigns above,

And from his heav'nly Throne
He sees what Children dwell in Love,
And marks them for his own.

Divine Songs, for the use of Children, 1720

38

39

'T

Against Idleness and Mischief

H

WOW doth the little busy Bee
Improve each shining Hour,
And gather Honey all the Day
From ev'ry op'ning Flow'r!

How skilfully she builds her Cell!

How neat she spreads the Wax!
And labours hard to store it well

With the sweet Food she makes.

In Works of Labour or of Skill
I would be busy too:

For Satan finds some Mischief still
For idle Hands to do.

In Books, or Work, or healthful Play,
Let my first Years be past,
That I may give for every Day

Some good Account at last.

The Sluggard

Divine Songs, 1720

IS the Voice of the Sluggard; I heard him complain,

You have wak'd me too soon, I must slumber again.'

As the Door on its Hinges, so he on his Bed,

Turns his Sides and his Shoulders and his heavy Head.

'A little more Sleep, and a little more Slumber;' Thus he wastes half his Days and his Hours without Number; And when he gets up, he sits folding his Hands,

Or walks about sauntring, or trifling he stands.

I pass'd by his Garden, and saw the wild Brier,
The Thorn and the Thistle grow broader and higher;
The Clothes that hang on him are turning to Rags;
And his Money still wastes, till he starves or he begs.

I made him a Visit, still hoping to find

He had took better Care for improving his Mind:
He told me his Dreams, talk'd of Eating and Drinking;
But he scarce reads his Bible, and never loves Thinking.

Said I then to my Heart,' Here's a Lesson for me;
That Man 's but a Picture of what I might be:
But thanks to my Friends for their Care in my Breeding,
Who taught me betimes to love Working and Reading.
Divine Songs, 1720

40

A Cradle Hymn

HUSH! my Dear, lie still and slumber,

Holy Angels guard thy Bed!

Heavenly Blessings without Number
Gently falling on thy Head.

Sleep, my Babe; thy Food and Raiment,
House and Home thy Friends provide;

All without thy Care or Payment,
All thy Wants are well supply'd.

How much better thou'rt attended
Than the Son of GOD could be,
When from Heaven he descended,
And became a Child like thee?