That settled trust in Providence divine. Which lets the Christian at no lot repine: But, when most tried, his faith's prime power employ, And make affliction minister to joy. We both have past thro' many a troubled day, And felt adversity's heart-searching sway: But when most wounded, both have kiss'd the rod, And blest the pangs assign'd us by our God; To wean us from a world, which, Nature sees, None estimate aright, or quit with ease, But souls Heaven-taught, that, free from doubt's alarm, Hail death their herald to the Saviour's arms. We both, my friend, in mind sedate and firm Enter'd with thankfulness life's latest term. And I might claim (could years such right assume) First to attain the quiet of the tomb; There show me still the friendship of our youth, And still speak of me with indulgent truth. May'st thou, less worn by griefs of many a year, Still rich in filial gems, that earth endear! Thy public duties long with grace discharge, Esteem'd and honour'd by the world at large. Thy elder, idler friend that world may spare, And yet allow his name a station there; For he long literary zeal has shown, To honour merit, that surpassed his own: And hop'd to live beyond his mortal days, In England's memory, and friendship's praise. High hopes! o'er which his holier thoughts aspire, And make the peace of God his paramount desire. Epistle. TO MRS. HANNAH MORE ON _Her Recent Publication--Practical Piety._ JUNE 1811. Epistle Hail! hallow'd sister! of a saintly band! Whose hearts in homage to their God expand! Who, by the kind Urania taught to sing. See palms celestial in their culture spring; And, while devotion wafts them to the skies, Teach weaker mortals on their wings to rise! Hannah! whom truth, with a parental smile, Ranks with her favorites of our letter'd isle; Thou in wide fields, by tribes of learning fill'd, By folly vainly view'd, by wisdom till'd; Where grain and weed arise in mingled birth, To nourish, or oppress, the race of earth; Well hast thou ply'd thy task of virtuous toil, And reap'd distinction's tributary spoil: Long has thy country, with a fond acclaim, Joy'd in thy genius, gloried in thy fame; Progressive talents in thy works beheld, Thine earlier volumes by thy last excell'd! The noblest motive sway'd thy moral pen, Intent to meliorate the sons of men From that now distant year, when faith design'd Thy sacred dramas for the youthful mind; To this rich season of thy honour'd age, When, with the fervour of a Christian sage, Thine eve of life, with dews from Heaven impearl'd Shows piety in practice to the world. Well I remember, tho' long years have past, Long years with dark calamity o'ercast, Well I remember, and with grateful pride, How to my heart thy friendly verse supplied The glow of exultation; for thy praise Shed gracious honour on my sportive lays. When 'twas my aim to clear from thorns of strife The budding roses of domestic life, And teach young nymphs, in irritation's hour,