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See his fierce reviler Saul,
How he rails with impious breath,. Then observe converted Paul,
Oft in perils, oft in death. 'Twas that God whose sovereign power,
Did the lion's fury swage, Could again in one short hour,
Still the persecutor's rage. Ey'n a woman women hear;
Read in Maccabees the story, Conquer'd nature, love and fear,
To obtain a crown of glory. Seven stout sons she saw expire,
(How the mother's soul was pain’d;) Some by sword, and some by fire,
How the Martyr was sustain'd. Even in death's acutest anguish,
Each the tyrant still defy'd; Each she saw in torture languish,
Last of all the mother dy'd. Martyrs who were thus arrested,
In their short but bright career, By their blood the truth attested,
Prov'd their faith and love sincere, Tho’their lot was hard and lowly,
Tho' they perish'd at the stake; Now they live with God in glory, Since they suffer'd for his sake. H2
Fierce and unbelieving foes,
But their bodies could destroy ; Short tho'bitter were their woes,
Everlasting is their joy.
HYMN OF PRAISE
ABUNDANT HARVEST OF 1796.
AFTER A YEAR OF SCARCITY.
REAT God! when Famine threaten's
To dread thy mighty band?
Or own'd we God was just?
Or bow'd we in the dust?
Was any sin abhorr’d?
'Tis true we faild not to repine,
But did we too repent?
In awful judgment sent?
And war with ruthless sword
Yet who regards the Lord ?
Remembers mercy still,
Our hearts with comfort fill.
Domestic hate increase ;
To teach us love and peace.
Has blessings still in store ;
He does but love us more.
Our golden harvests spoil;
Rewards the Reaper's toil!
In Canaan's fruitful land;
By famine's pressing hand !
The angry brothers then forgot
Each fierce and jarring feud;
They lov'd as brothers shou'd.
Tho' famine fail'd to move;
Rekindle peace and love.
Soul! thou hast goods in store !
To feed the aged poor.
Such bounteous crops bestow'd,
In gratitude to God!
For bread so kindly given;
To give the bread of heav'n.
Of all our prayers the guide,
And then our wants supplied.
Thy will be done,” before
TEAR Lechlade Town, in Glo'stershire,
Upon the banks of Thame, There liv'd an honest worthy pair,
And Andrews was their name. Tho' but a labourer was he,
And children they had four:
Want came not near their door.
He ne'er to alehouse went;
Right frugally they spent...
The children clean and tight: And John still found some wholesome fare,
When he came home at night, The children early taught to spim
Added their little gains; And though their earnings were but small,
They amply paid the pains, For every little matter helps
When carefully 'tis us'd: And whatsoever Mary goto's It never was abus'd.