University of Virginia Library

My steps Discretion's rules shall guide;
Nor error from my lips shall slide,
(Thus to myself resolv'd I said;)
Nor word, in Wisdom's scale unweigh'd:
While lawless crouds attend me nigh,
And mark me with insidious eye,
Behold me with the steady rein
Each effort of my tongue restrain.

Awhile my soul its purpose keeps;
A stubborn silence seals my lips:
But O! from themes of good withheld,
How oft my full-swoln heart rebell'd!
My thoughts in various tumult roll;
At length, impatient of controul,
Forth from my struggling bosom brake
The kindled flame; and thus I spake:
O let me, heav'nly Lord, extend
My view to life's approaching end,
And, lesson'd by thy Wisdom, learn
How soon my fabrick shall return
To earth, and in the silent tomb
Its seat of lasting rest assume.
What are my days? (a span their line;)
And what my age compar'd with thine?
Our life advancing to its close,
While scarce its earliest dawn it knows,
Swift through an empty shade we run,
And Vanity and Man are one:
With anxious pain this Son of care
Toils to inrich an unknown heir,
And, eying oft his heapy store,
With vain disquiet thirsts for more.

Where, Lord, shall I my refuge see?
On whom repose my hope but Thee?
O purge my guilt, nor let my foe
Exulting mock my heighten'd woe.
Convinc'd that thy paternal hand
Inflicts but what my sins demand,
I speechless sate; nor plaintive word,
Nor murmur, from my lips was heard.
But O, in thy appointed hour
Withdraw thy rod; lest Nature's pow'r,
While griefs on griefs my heart assail,
Unequal to the conflict, fail.
O, how thy chastisements impair
The human form, however fair!
How frail the strongest frame we see,
If Thou the Sinner's fate decree!
As when the fretting moths consume
The labour of the curious loom,
The texture fails, the dyes decay,
And all its lustre fades away.
Such, Man, thy state: then, humbled, own
That Vanity and Thou are one.
To Thee, great God, my knees I bend;
To Thee my ceaseless pray'rs ascend;
O let my sorrows reach thine ears,
And mark my sighs, my groans, my tears.
God of my Fathers! Here, as They,
I walk the Pilgrim of a day;
A transient Guest, thy works admire,
And instant to my home retire.
O spare me, Lord, awhile, O spare,
And Nature's ruin'd strength repair,
E'er, life's short circuit wander'd o'er,
I perish, and am seen no more.