In death's uncheerful shade, afflicted, bound
In cold imprisoning chains the sad reward
Of impious daring, and rebellious deeds,
When heavenly Justice, with her radiant arm.
Smites their proud hearts; e'en they, by humble
prayer,

Unfold sweet Mercy's easy-sliding gates;
Their iron bondage bursts, and forth they rush
From death's dim shadow to the golden day.
O for the spirit of exalted praise,

To blazon high those acts of power divine,
Those boundless mercies that embrace mankind!
Before his puissant arm the brazen might
Of strong gates shivers, and in pieces falls
The firm bar.

Folly's vain votaries, from disorder wild,
And mad intemperance, reaping painful fruits,
Disease and langour to the dreary door

Of death move trembling. Then with humble

prayer,

To heaven they turn repentant, nor unheard,
Health's rosy light relumes the languid cheek,
And Ruin quits his meditated prey,

O for the spirit of exalted praise,

To blazon high those acts of

power divine,

Those boundless mercies that embrace mankind!

Let man for ever wake the grateful strain,
The sacrifice of reason; ever sing
His Maker's works, and triumph in the song.
The bold adventurers on the stormy breast
Of ocean, tenants of the wat'ry world,
Mark in the mighty waste of seas and skies,
Magnificence Divine. At his command
The swift wind sweeps the billows; up they rise
Infuriate to the vault of heaven, then down
Precipitately steep, disparting, ope

The vast abyss voracious. Ah! where then,
Weak mariners, your hopes? Then the heart faints.
From side to side they run, they reel, they fall,
Inebriate with confusion. Nought remains
But trembling prayer, the last appeal to Heaven.
Nor vain the last appeal. Already, see!
The rapid storm subsides, and the wave sleeps.
Alert within the merry sailor's heart

Springs hope; and soon he hails the welcome port. O for the spirit of exalted praise,

To blazon high those acts of power divine,
Those boundless mercies that embrace mankind!
From the full choir of undistinguish'd crowds,
From wisdom's chosen synod, crown'd with years,
To Him for ever flow collective praise !

Where in wild sweetness rose the sallying spring, Where spread the copious river, where display'd

Ee

The vale its verdant honours, barren lies
A dry waste, mark of Heaven's avenging hand;
When sacred justice spoke the doom of guilt.

But lo! where once the dry waste barren lay,
'There in wild sweetness flows the sallying spring,
There spreads the copious river, there displays
The vale its verdant honours; hamlets fair,
Rich harvests, blushing vineyards, golden fruits,
And flocks abundant, the long famish'd swain
Beholds delighted. Heaven's peculiar care
Are all affliction's children: when the yoke
Of stern oppression sinks the weary heart,
Perish the stern oppressors; low in dust,
Low lies each princely head; while guarded safe,
As flocks reposing in their evening fold,
The peasant sleeps in peace. O sight of joy
To faithful piety! of conscious pain,
And keen conviction, to the heart of guilt!
This, this is wisdom's lesson to explore
The active scheine of Providence; to learn
His love divine; and, learning, to confide.

There is no employment fo delightful to a devout mind as this attention to the vifible adminiftration of providence. To contemplate the Creator of heaven and earth in the magnificence of his works, enlarges and elevates the foul

lifts it above the impertinence of vulgar cares, and gives it a kind of heavenly pre-existence. To confider the benevolent purposes for which he called forth this variety and multitude of being, that comes under our cognizance, muft be a perpetual fource of comfort. A rational creature, that is confcious of deriving its existence from a being of infinite goodness and power, cannot properly entertain any prospect but of happinefs. By the imperfection of its nature it may fall into temporary evils, but these cannot justly be the fubject of complaint, when we reflect that this very imperfection was neceffary, to a probatory life, and that, without it, there could neither have been virtue, nor the rewards of virtue. Every degree of excellence depends upon comparison. Were there no deformity in the world, we should have no distinct ideas of beauty: were there no poffibility of vice, there would be no fuch thing as virtue; and were the life of man exempt from mifery, happiness would be a term of which he could not know the meaning.

But I wander from my first defign, which was not to philofophize. Be wife and happy.

Adieu!

FRANCIS,

LETTER XV.

CONSTANTIA TO THEODOSIUS.

IF I could pronounce my heart to be perfectly at ease, you would have the only reward you defire for your kind, your paternal care. But shall I, on the contrary, avow my ingratitude? Shall I own that this obftinate, this petulant heart is not yet at rest? Could it oppose itself to the united efforts of reafon and religion? Would it neither be foothed by harmony, nor filenced by philofophy? Vain, incorrigible heart!

Indeed, my venerable friend, I must not diffemble with you: I have not yet recovered my former peace. And yet, why? I have the fame confidence in the administration of Providence. I believe as much in his goodness, as much in his wifdom. I attend, with the fame readiness, on the duties of religion, and offer up my prayers with the fame affiance. I agree to every conclufion you have drawn, either from moral or religious arguments. I acknowledge the propriety, the duty of refignation under every circumstance of