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As some tall cliff that lifts its awful form,
Swells from the vale, and midway leaves the storm,
Though round its breast the rolling clouds are spread
Eternal sunshine settles on its head.
The Lord my pasture shall prepare,
And feed me with a shepherd's care;
His presence shall my wants supply,
And guard me with a watchful eye;
My noon-day walks he shall attend,
And all my midnight hours defend.
When in the sultry glebe I faint,
Or on the thirsty mountain pant;
To fertile vales and dewy meads
My weary wand'ring steps he leads;
Where peaceful rivers, soft and slow,
Amid the verdant landscape flow.
Though in the paths of death I tread,
With gloomy horrors overspread,
My stedfast heart shall fear no ill,
For thou, O Lord, art with me still;
Thy friendly crook shall give me aid,
And guide me through the dreadful shade.
Though in a bare and rugged way,
Through devious lonely wilds I stray,
Thy bounty shall my pains beguile:
The barren wilderness shall smile,
With sudden greens and herbage crown'd,
And streams shall nuurmur all around.
When all thy mercies, o my God!
My rising soul surveys;
Transported with the view, I'm lost
In wonder, love, and praise!
O! how shall words with equal warmth
The gratitude declare,
That glows within my ravish'd heart!
But thou canst read it there.
To all my weak complaints and cries.
Thy mercy lent an ear,
Ere yet my feeble thoughts had learnt
To form themselves in prayer.
Unnumber'd comforts to my soul
Thy tender care bestow'd,
Before my infant heart conceiv'd
From whom those comforts flow'd.
When in the slipp'ry paths of youth
With heedless steps I ran,
Thine arm, unseen, convey'd me safe,
And led me up to man.
Through hidden dangers, toils, and deaths,
It gently clear'd my way,
And through the pleasing snares of vice,
More to be sear'd than they.
When worn with sickness, oft hast thou
With health renew'd my face,
And when in sins and sorrow sunk,
Reviv'd my soul with grace.
Thy bounteous hand with wordly bliss
Has made my cup run o'er,
And in a kind and faithful friend
Has doubled all my store.
Ten thousand thousand precious gifts
My daily thanks employ,
Nor is the least a cheerful heart,
That tastes those gifts with joy,
Through every period of my life
Thy goodness I'll pursue;
And after death, in distant worlds,
The glorious theme renew.
When nature fails, and day and night
Divide thy works no more,
My ever-grateful heart, O'Lord!
Thy mercy shall adore.
The lofty pillars of the sky,
And spacious concave rais'd on high,
Spangled with stars, a shining frame,
Their great original proclaim;
Th'unwearied sun, from day to day,
Pours knowledge on his golden ray,
And publishes to every land
The work of an Almighty hand.
Soon as the evening shades prevail,
The moon takes up the wondrous tale,
And nightly to the list'ning earth
Repeats the story of her birth:
Whilst all the stars that round her burn,
And all the planets in their turn,
Confirm the tidings as they roll,
And spread the truth from pole to pole.
What though in solemn silence all
Move round the dark terrestrial ball?
What though nor real voice nor sound
Amid their radiant orbs be found?
In reason's ear they all rejoice,
And utter forth a glorious voice,
For ever singing as they shine,
“The hand that made us is divine.”
How short is life's uncertain space'
Alas! how quickly done!
How swift the wild precarious chace!
And yet how difficult the race,
How very hard to run!