And though unworthy, finds a friend at Rome; It's vot'ry thus, would that could perish too! HOR. LIB. I. ODE IX. "Vides, ut altâ stet nive candidum EEST thou yon mountain laden with deep snow, SE The groves beneath their fleecy burthen bow, The streams congeal'd forget to flow; Come, thaw the cold, and lay a cheerful pile Broach the best cask, and make old winter smile This be our part-let Heaven dispose the rest; When to-morrow's past away, Your auburn locks will soon be silver'd o'er, HOR. LIB. I. ODE XXXVIII. B "Persicos odi, puer, apparatus" OOY, I hate their empty shows, Bring not me the late-blown rose Plainer myrtle pleases me Thus outstretched beneath my vine; Myrtle more becoming thee, Waiting with thy master's wine. HOR. LIB. II. ODE XVI. "Otium Divos rogat in patenti." Eis ploughs beneath th gean flood, ASE is the weary merchant's pray'r, When neither moon nor stars appear, For ease the Mede with quiver graced, A blessing which no treasure buys. For neither gold can lull to rest, Happy the man, whose table shows Poor short-lived things, what plans we lay! For self sticks close where'er we roam. Care follows hard; and soon o'ertakes The well-rigg'd ship, the warlike steed, Her destined quarry ne'er forsakes, Not the wind flies with half her speed. From anxious fears of future ill Guard well the cheerful, happy now; Thy neighing steeds and lowing herds, On me indulgent Heav'n bestow'd 'TIS Not to live without the Cross, But the Saviour's power to know Sanctifying every loss: Trials must and will befall; But with humble faith to see Love inscribed upon them allThis is happiness to me. God in Israel sows the seeds Of affliction, pain, and toil; These spring up and choke the weeds Which would else o'erspread the soil: Trials make the promise sweet, Trials give new life to prayer, Trials bring me to His feet, Lay me low, and keep me there. Did I meet no trials here, No chastisement by the way, Bastards may escape the rod, LIGHT SHINING OUT OF DARKNESS. OD moves in a mysterious way He plants His footsteps in the sea, Deep in unfathomable mines He treasures up His bright designs, Ye fearful saints, fresh courage take Judge not the Lord by feeble sense, His purposes will ripen fast, The bud may have a bitter taste, But sweet will be the flower. |