1. While thee I seek, protecting Power, Be my vain wishes stilled; And may this consecrated hour With better hopes be filled.
2. Thy love the power of thought stowed, To thee my thoughts would soar: Thy mercy o’er my life has flowed, That mercy I adore.
3. In each event of life, how clear Thy ruling hand I see! Each blessing to my soul more dear, Because conferred by thee.
4. In every joy that crowns my days, In every pain I bear, My heart shall find delight in praise, Or seek relief in prayer.
5. When gladness wings my favored hour, Thy love my thoughts shall fill; Resigned, when storms of sorrow lower, My soul shall meet thy will.
6. My lifted eye, without a tear, The gathering storm shall see; My steadfast heart shall know no fear— That heart will rest on thee.
The Gardener and the Hog.—GAY.
1. A gardener, of peculiar taste, On a young hog his favor placed, Who fed not with the common herd,— His tray was to the hall preferred; He wallowed underneath the board, Or in his master’s chamber snored, Who fondly stroked him every day, And taught him all the puppy’s play.
2. Where’er he went, the grunting friend Ne’er failed his pleasure to attend. As on a time the loving pair Walked forth to tend the garden’s care, The master thus addressed the swine:
3. “My house, my garden, all is thine: On turnips feast whene’er you please, And riot in my beans and peas; If the potato’s taste delights, Or the red carrot’s sweet invites, Indulge thy morn and evening hours, But let due care regard my flowers; My tulips are my garden’s pride— What vast expense these beds supplied!”
4. The hog, by chance, one morning roamed Where with new ale the vessels foamed; He munches now the steaming grains, Now with full swill the liquor drains; Intoxicating fumes arise, He reels, he rolls his winking eyes; Then, staggering, through the garden scours, And treads down painted ranks of flowers; With delving snout he turns the soil, And cools his palate with the spoil.
5. The master came,—the ruin spied. “Villain, suspend thy rage!” he cried: “Hast then, thou most ungrateful sot, My charge, my only charge, forgot? What, all my flowers?” No more he said; But gazed, and sighed, and hung his head.
6. The hog, with stuttering speech, returns:— “Explain, sir, why your anger burns; See there, untouched, your tulips strown, For I devoured the roots alone!”
7. At this the gardener’s passion grows; From oaths and threats he fell to blows; The stubborn brute the blows sustains, Assaults his leg, and tears the veins. Ah! foolish swain, too late you find That sties were for such friends designed!
8. Homeward he limps with painful pace, Reflecting thus on past disgrace: Who cherishes a brutal mate, Shall mourn the folly soon or late.