"And of my garden be the pride and joy! "Acafto's daughter, his, whofe open ftores, "The very refufe of thofe harveft-fields, 73 "Which from his bounteous friendship I enjoy ! "Then throw that fhameful pittance from thy hand, "But ill apply'd to fuch a rugged task; "The fields, the mafter, all, my Fair! are thine, "If to the various bleffings which thy houfe "Has on me lavish'd, thou wilt add that blifs, "That dearest blifs, the power of bleffing thee!" Here ceas'd the youth: yet ftill his speaking eye Exprefs'd the facred triumph of his foul, With conscious virtue, gratitude, and love, Above the vulgar joy divinely rais'd. Nor waited he reply. Won by the charm Of goodness irresistible, and all In sweet diforder loft, fhe blufh'd confent. The news immediate to her mother brought, Amaz'd, and scarce believing what she heard, Joy feizd her wither'd veins, and one bright gleam Of fetting life shone on her evening hours: Who flourish'd long in tender blifs, and rear'd THE UNIVERSAL PRAYER. BY POPE. FATHER of all! in ev'ry age; In ev'ry clime ador'd, Py faint, by favage, and by fage, Thou great firft caufe, leaft understood; Who all my fenfe confin'd To know but this, that thou art good, Yet gave me, in this dark estate, What confcience dictates to be done, This, teach me more than hell to fhun, That, more than heav'n pursue. What bleffings thy free bounty gives, Let me not caft away; For God is paid when man receives, T'enjoy is to obey. Yet not to earth's contracted span Or think thee Lord alone of man, Let not this weak, unknowing hand Prefume thy bolts to throw, And deal damnation round the land On each I judge thy foe. If I am right, thy grace impart, If I am wrong, oh teach my heart Save me alike from foolish pride, At aught thy wisdom has deny'd Teach me to feel another's woc, That mercy I to others show, That mercy fhow to me. Mean though I am, not wholly fo, Through this day's life or death. This day, be bread and peace my lot: Thou know'ft if best bestow'd'or not, To thee, whofe temple is all space, One chorus let all being raife! PROVIDENCE. Br AN HYMN ADDIS 0 N. THE Lord my pafture. fhall prepare, 7 When in the fultry glebe I faint, Though in the paths of death I tread, Though in a bare and rugged way, |