let us spare Our days are numbered; Our anxious hearts a needless care; "Tis His to number out our days, 'Tis our's to spend them to His praise. CXV. O THAT my heart was right with Thee, Saviour, I dwell in awful night, O Lord, how should thy servant see, O let my prayer acceptance find, CXVI. SWEETEST Saviour, if my soul, But, when all my care and pains "What, child! is the balance thine? Thine the poise and measure? If I say, 'Thou shalt be mine,' What the gain in having thee Who for man was sold, can see; That transferred the account to me." But as I can see no merit Leading to this favour; "That is all, if that I could And my clay, my creature, would Follow my designing; That as I did freely part With my glory and desert, Left all joys to feel all smart" Ah, no more, thou break'st my heart! CXVII. THE seas are quiet when the winds are o'er : So calm are we when passions are no more! For then we know how vain it was to boast Of fleeting things, so certain to be lost. Clouds of affection from our younger eyes Stronger by weakness, wiser, men become, As they draw near to their eternal home; Leaving the old, both worlds at once they view, That stand upon the threshold of the new. CXVIII. Fair sea! whose lines of rolling wave, And seem, as the broad beach they lave, "Is there a wand'rer on my breast ?— And soothe his cares away; Here, where sweet flowers, of thousand hues, The welcome of their balm diffuse." Not thus-not thus thine accents broke On Paul's awaken'd ear, When hoarse thy boiling waters spoke, Wrought by thy wrestlings drear; Whilst on thy fickle breast of foam Man found nor refuge nor a home. Rude sea! hadst thou no sealed charge, To mark, when sank the fragile barge, Yea, though thou foam above, below, In vain thy billows course their way— Saved are the souls! Disgorge thy prey! And yet, methinks, when Paul once more But he nor trusted thee nor feared; Or 'gainst thy scowlings beat: O for a faith! the faith of Paul,- M |