(Isaiah, LVII.15) The Lord will happiness divine On contrite hearts bestow; Then tell me, gracious God, is mi… A contrite heart or no?

Ah! reign, wherever man is found! My spouse, beloved and divine! Then I am rich, and I abound, When every human heart is thine. A thousand sorrows pierce my soul,

Oh that those lips had language!… With me but roughly since I heard… Those lips are thine– thy own swee… The same that oft in childhood sol… Voice only fails, else, how distin…

You bid me write to amuse the tedi… And save from withering my poetic… Hard is the task, my friend, for v… From the free mind, not fettered d… Restless amidst unceasing tempests…

How quick the change from joy to w… How chequered is our lot below! Seldom we view the prospect fair, Dark clouds of sorrow, pain, and c… (Some pleasing intervals between),

Hayley, thy tenderness fraternal s… In our first interview, delightful… To Mary and me for her dear sake… Such as it is has made my heart th… Though heedless now of new engagem…

Hast thou a friend? thou hast inde… A rich and large supply. Treasure to serve your every need, Well managed, till you die.

A Nightingale that all day long Had cheered the village with his s… Nor yet at eve his note suspended, Nor yet when eventide was ended, Began to feel, as well he might,

What various hindrances we meet In coming to a mercy seat! Yet who that knows the worth of pr… But wishes to be often there? Prayer makes the darken’d cloud wi…

(Exodus, XV.26) Heal us, Emmanuel! here we are, Waiting to feel Thy touch: Deep-wounded souls to Thee repair And, Saviour, we are such.

Says the Pipe to the Snuff-box,… What the ladies and gentlemen see… That you are in fashion all over t… And I am so much fallen into disg… ‘Do but see what a pretty contempl…

What thousands never knew the road… What thousands hate it when ’tis k… None but the chosen tribes of God Will seek or choose it for their o… A thousand ways in ruin end,

Season of my purest pleasure, Sealer of observing eyes! When, in larger, freer measure, I can commune with the skies; While, beneath thy shade extended,

(Proverbs, VIII. 22-31) “Ere God had built the mountains, Or raised the fruitful hills; Before he fill’d the fountains That feed the running rills;

That ocean you have late surveyed, Those rocks I too have seen; But I, afflicted and dismayed, You tranquil and serene. You from the flood-controlling ste…