for the | | upon ourselves; || faint | hearts are their present and | Ire put Having then to for his | own | faults, | both of | God and | but | being of the | that he re- | fers, in | at his trial | re- | minded | ▼ that he had | said | nothing royal family, he adds, this matter, to what he had | said family concerning the | test; that he | prayed | | there never might be | wanting | one of the | royal | to sup- | port the | Protestant re- | ligion; | and if | any of them had | swerved | from the true | faith, | he prayed | God to turn their hearts; but at any rate his people from their machi- | nations. | When he had ended, he turned to the south | side of the scaffold | and | said, "Gentlemen, to save I pray you, | do not | miscon- | struct | my be- | havior this day. I freely for- | give | all men | their wrongs and | injuries | done a- | gainst | me, as I de- | sire | to be for- | given of | God. | 17 He | then em- | braced his | friends, | gave some tokens of his re- | membrance | to his son-in-law, | Lord | Maitland, |◄ for his | daughter and grand-children, || stript himself | of part of his ap- | parel, | of | which he | likewise made presents, | and | laid his | head | upon the block. 1971 Having | uttered a | short | prayer, he gave the | signal to the exe- | cutioner, | which was instant ly o- | beyed, and his head | severed from his | Such were the last | hours and | such the final close of this great | man's | life. 111 May the like | happy serenity, in such | dreadful | circumstances, and a death | equally | glorious be the lot of all, | whom | tyranny ever description in any age, of what- | to expiate their | virtues THOUGHTS IN A PLACE OF WORSHIP. Hannah More. And here we | come and | sit, time after | time,| And I call it social | worship; | 179 | Is it | thus ? 19771 Oh Thou! whose | searching | all per- | vading eye Scans every secret | movement of the | heart, | And sees us as we | are | why | mourns my soul found thee | oft On these occasions? | Why so | dead and | cold || My best af- fections? | I have In my more secret | seasons, And in my chamber: || even Of outward | occu- | pations in the | field, | in the stir | has my mind || Been drawn to thee, and I found thy | presence | life: 1 But here I seek in | vain | and | rarely find Thy | ancient promise to the few that | wait| In singleness up- on thee, || reach to | us. one Of soul ce- menting | love | gathering in Flowing from heart to | heart, | and | like a cloud | Of | mingled | incense || rising to the | thron | Of Love it-self! || then much of heaven is | felt By minds drawn | thither- | ward, and | closely linked 1 In the celestial | union, || 'tis in | this | Sweet element a- | lone, To | any purpose, that we can | live or ex- | pect our | minds | Clothed with that covering | which a- | lone pre pares For social | worship. ||17| Therefore mourns my soul | In secret, and like | one a- | midst the | vast| And widely peopled | earth to | hide | would seek Myself and sorrows from the | motly | crowd | Thou vation. Whose bowels of com- | passion | never | fail| Towards the creatures | fashioned by thy | hand Reanimate the dead and give to | those | Who never felt thy presence | in their | souls Nor saw thy | beauty, | both to see and feel | thou art | lovely, That life: 171 I and thy | presence | Re-store the | wanderer, and sup- port the! weak With thy sustaining arm, for strength is | | | thine. 1971 And Oh! pre- serve this | tempest beaten | bark From sinking in the wave, surge whose swelling Threatens to over-whelm, For- | sake her not But be her | Pilot, though | no | sun nor star Appear a- | mid the | gloom; for if a | ray | From thy all | cheering | presence, || light her course | She rides the storm se- | cure, and in due time Will reach her | destined | port, at peace. T T THE DOG AND WATER LILY. Cowper. The moon was | shady | and | soft | airs | Swept | Ouse's silent | tide,| 'scaped from | literary cares, When I wander'd on his side. ||11 My spaniel, prettiest of his | race, 1| And high in | pedigree, | (Two | nymphsa- | dorned with every | grace That spaniel | found for | me,)|| Now | wanton'd | lost in | flags Now starting into | sight, | and reeds Pursued the | swallow o'er the meads With scarce a | slower | flight. |19|79| It was the time when | Ouse dis- | play'd | Their beauties | I in- | tent sur- | vey'd And one I wish'd my | own. |19|77| With cane ex- | tended | far|I| sought || To steer it close to | land;| But still the prize though nearly | caught, | Escaped my | eager | hand. |17|79| unsuccessful pains | Beau mark'd my unsuc With fix'd con- | siderate | face, And puzzling || sat his | puppy | brains | To compre- | hend the case. 1991 But with a chirup | clear and strong, | Dispersing | all his | dream, 1| I thence with- | drew and | follow'd | long | The windings of the stream. 1971 My ramble finish'd | I re- | turn'd, || Beau (trotting | far be- | fore) | | The floating wreath a- gain dis- | cern'd | And plunging | left the | shore. |11|17| | |