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A Song for The Auniversary Meeting of The Directors and Governors of the Sea-bathing
Infirmary at Margate.
TUNE: The Anacreontic.
The Sca, as its wayes after waves loudly roll, And its tides or recede from or gain on the
shore, With awe and devotion exalts the full soul,
And the Maker's loud praises extols in its
This made the 66 sweet Psalmist” enraptur'd
exclaim, O these are thy works, great and manifold,
Lord ! Earth and ocean alike boundless wisdom pro
claim, Be thy wisdom and goodness by all breath
* Psalm civ. 24-26.
The sea doth in commerce realms far distant
join, Uniting as friends whom it seems to divide, In fellowship brings both the poles and the line, As swift o'er its billows rich merchantmen ride. Within its own bosom vast treasures it bears, Each creature that creeps or disports on the
fin, In herring-shoals myriads each season it rears, And the whale " who delights to take pastime
These are but in part what the Parent of Good Hath show'r'd down of mercies benignantly
free, A constant BETHESDA still flows the salt flood,
And health, strength and spirits we gain from
Here, bathing, the bow'd may soon, brac'd,
walk upright, The blood, now contaminate', wash and be
clean, The dim may recover the blessing of sight,
And the unnery'd by palsy in vigour be
But, alas! how shall those who droop thus far
in land, Whom poverty more than their sickness
bows down? Poor wretches! no means can their stations
command, They languish unpitied, they sorrow un.
Taught by Him, who made sea, and all men
of one race, A BETHESDA, a house of reception, we
raise; Humanity's friends! the blest object em
brace, Bestow here your wealth to your Maker's
Oye, who for health here approach the
And ye, to these shores who for pleasure
repair, Wide open your hands with hearts grateful
and free, Give the lame and afflicted your blessings
Then, if on the bed of affliction you lie,
bestow, Will grant you his aid when for mercy you
cry, And shed healing dews on your sickness and woe. *
Spreads once more his mantle dun;
Chill the air and mask the sun.
Pleasure quits the blasted green-
All deserted now are seen!
Psalm xli. 1-3.
3 Cheerful round the social hearth,
Where the well-trimm'd embers glow, Passing time with tales of mirth,
Sit the Cot's promiscuous row.
A Deep and dirty is the road,
Difficult to man and steed : Round the opulent abode
Crowd the shivering Sons of Need.
5 Deal your
alms now to the poor, Ye with wealth and plenty blest! Thus a treasure you'll secure
In the realms of joy and rest.
In a season such as this,
Mercy's promis'd meed of bliss ?