13 Through all eternity, to thee A joyful song I'll raise; For, oh! eternity's too short To utter all thy praise. AN ODE. 1 How are thy servants blest, O Lord! How sure is their defence! Eternal wisdom is their guide, Their help Omnipotence. 2 In foreign realms, and lands remote, Supported by thy care, Through burning climes I pass'd unhurt, And breath'd in tainted air. 3 Thy mercy sweeten'd every soil, Made every region please; The hoary Alpine hills it warm'd, And smooth'd the Tyrrhene seas. 4 Think, O my soul, devoutly think, How, with affrighted eyes, Thou saw'st the wide-extended deep In all its horrors rise. 5 Confusion dwelt in every face, And fear in every heart; When waves on waves, and gulphs on gulphs, O'ercame the pilot's art. 6 Yet then from all my griefs, O Lord, Thy mercy set me free; Whilst, in the confidence of prayer, My soul took hold on thee. 7 For though in dreadful whirls we hung High on the broken wave, I knew thou wert not slow to hear, Nor impotent to save. 8 The storm was laid, the winds retired, Obedient to thy will; The sea that roar'd at thy command, At thy command was still. 9 In midst of dangers, fears, and death, Thy goodness I'll adore; And praise thee for thy mercies past, And humbly hope for more. 10 My life, if thou preserv'st my life, Thy sacrifice shall be; And death, if death must be my doom, Shall join my soul to thee. AN HYMN. 1 When rising from the bed of death, O'erwhelm'd with guilt and fear, I see my Maker face to face; O how shall I appear! 2 If yet, while pardon may be found, And mercy may be sought, My heart with inward horror shrinks, And trembles at the thought: 3 When thou, O Lord, shalt stand disclos'd In majesty severe, And sit in judgment on my soul; O how shall I appear! 4 But thou hast told the troubled soul, Who does her sins lament, The timely tribute of her tears Shall endless woe prevent. 5 Then see the sorrows of my heart, Ere yet it be too late; And add my Saviour's dying groans, To give those sorrows weight. 6 For never shall my soul despair Her pardon to procure, Who knows thy only Son has died To make that pardon sure. PARAPHRASE ON PSALM XXIII. 1