Poems on Several Occasions With Anne Boleyn to King Henry VIII. An Epistle. By Mrs. Elizabeth Tollet. The Second Edition |
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PSALM XC. |
 | Poems on Several Occasions |  |
PSALM XC.
Thou, Lord! hast been our sure Repose,Our sacred Refuge from our Foes;
Since aged Time his Course began,
And thro' successive Periods ran.
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Before the Structure of the Earth,
Before the universal Ball
Emerg'd from nothing at thy Call,
Thou, present Godhead! dost survey
An unbegun, an endless Day.
Mankind by thee resign'd to Doom,
Thy Voice recalls them from the Tomb:
The Series of a thousand Years,
To thee that narrow Space appears,
Which bounded last diurnal Light:
Or as an Hour of Watch by Night:
As rapid Floods, which roll away
To lose their Water in the Sea;
As Visions of the slumb'ring Eye,
Which vanish when the Slumbers fly:
Or as the Grass they shall consume;
The Morning sees the Verdure bloom,
Which, e'er the Stars of Eav'n arise,
Falls by the Scythe, and fades and dries.
Such is our frail uncertain Age;
Sad Victims of celestial Rage!
Thy Indignation wastes our Years
In dire Anxieties and Fears.
Our Crimes to thy Tribunal brought
The secret Act, and conscious Thought,
Are open all to thy Survey,
Where thy bright Presence gilds the Day.
Our Days in thy Displeasure fail:
Our Years are ended like a Tale.
Sev'n Decads does the annual Sun
To limit our Duration run:
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One Decad more of Toil and Pain;
But soon the rapid Hours run on;
And the Reserve of Life is gone.
O! why presume we to inquire
The Force of thy tremendous Ire?
Whose Terrors we so deeply find,
Impress'd upon the wounded Mind.
Nor let us calculate in vain
Our Years that pass, or what remain,
But thence instruct us, to impart
The Care of Wisdom to our Heart.
Return, O Lord! but O how slow!
And mitigate thy Servants woe.
O! Satisfy our eager Sense
With undelay'd Benevolence:
That pious Gratitude, and Joy,
May our successive Days employ.
An Age of Happiness bestow,
To recompense our former Woe.
Let thy dread Acts thy Servants grace;
Thy Glory bless our future Race.
On us thou Majesty Divine!
Conspicuous in Effulgence shine:
And let our Toils, in thee begun,
By thy auspicious Aid be done.
| Poems on Several Occasions | |