 | Poems and Translations |  |
113
Psalm the 90th Paraphras'd.
I
Thy Hand, O Lord, thro' rolling YearsHas sav'd us from Despair,
From Period down to Period stretch'd
The Prospects of thy Care.
II
Before the World was first conceiv'd,Before the pregnant Earth,
Call'd forth the Mountains from her Womb,
Who struggled to their Birth;
114
III
Eternal God! thy early DaysBeyond Duration run,
E'er the first Race of starting Time
Was measur'd by the Sun.
IV
We die; but future Nations hearThy potent Voice again,
Rise at the Summons, and restore
The perish'd Race of Man;
V
Before thy Comprehensive Sight,Duration fleets away;
And rapid Ages on the Wing,
Fly swifter than a Day.
115
VI
As great Jehovah's piercing EyesEternity explore,
The longest Æra is a Night,
A Period is an Hour.
VII
We at thy mighty Call, O Lord,Our fancy'd Beings leave,
Rous'd from the flatt'ring Dream of Life,
To sleep within the Grave.
VIII
Swift from their Barrier to their GoalThe rapid Moments pass,
And leave poor Man, for whom they run,
The Emblem of the Grass.
116
IX
In the first Morn of Life it grows,And lifts its verdant Head,
At Noon decays, at Ev'ning dies,
And withers in the Mead.
X
We in the Glories of thy FaceOur secret Sins survey,
And see how gloomy those appear,
How pure and radiant they.
XI
To Death as our appointed GoalThy Anger drives us on,
To that full Period fix'd at length
This Tale of Life is done.
117
XII
With winged speed, to stated BoundsAnd Limits, must we fly,
While seventy rolling Suns compleat
Their Circles in the Sky.
XIII
Or if ten more around us roll,'Tis Labour, Woe, and Strife,
Till we at length are quite drawn down
To the last Dregs of Life.
XIV
But who, O Lord, regards thy Wrath,Tho' dreadful and severe?
That Wrath, whatever fear he feels,
Is equal to his Fear.
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XV
So teach Us, Lord, to count our Days,And eye their constant Race,
To measure what we want in Time,
By Wisdom, and by Grace.
XVI
With Us repent, and on our HeartsThy choicest Graces shed,
And show'r from thy celestial Throne
Thy Blessings on our Head.
XVII
Oh! may thy Mercy crown us here,And come without delay;
Then our whole Course of Life will seem
One glad Triumphant Day.
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XVIII
Now the blest Years of Joy restore,For those of Grief and Strife,
And with one pleasant Drop allay
This bitter Draught of Life.
XIX
Thy Wonders to the World display,Thy Servants to adorn,
That may delight their future Sons,
And Children yet unborn;
XX
Thy Beams of Majesty diffuse,With them thy great Commands,
And bid Prosperity attend
The Labours of our Hands.
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