MISCrLLANEOUS. CD 1 



Of the created world, the sound is borne 

 Till the whole universe is full of Him. 



Oh ! 'tis this heavenly harmony which now 

 In fancy strikes upon ray listening ear, 

 And thrills my inmost soul. It bids me smile 

 .On the vain world, and all its bustling cares, 

 And gives a shadowy glimpse of future bliss. 



Oh ! what is man, when at ambition's height, 

 What even are kings, when balanced in the scale 

 Of these stupendous worlds ! Almighty God ! 

 Thou, the dread author of these wond'rous works ! 

 Say, canst thou cast on me, poor passing worm, 

 One look of kind benevolence ? — Thou canst : 

 For thou art full of universal love, 

 And in thy boundless goodness wilt impart 

 Thy beams as well to me, as to the proud, 

 The pageant insects, of a glittering hour. 



Oh ! when reflecting on these truths sublime, 



How insignificant do all the joys, 



The gauds, and honours of the world appear ! 



How vain ambition ! Why has my wakeful lamp 



Outwatched the slow-paced night ? Why on the page, 



The schoolman's laboured page, have I employed 



The hours devoted by the world to rest, 



And needful to recruit exhausted nature ! 



Say, can the voice of narrow Fame repay 



The loss of health ? or can the hope of glory, 



Lend a new throb into my languid heart, 



Cool, even row, my feverish, aching brow, 



Relume the fires of this deep-sunken eye. 



Or paint new colours on this pallid cheek ? 



Say, foolish one — can that unbodied Fame, 



For which thou barterest health and happiness, 



Say, can it soothe the slumbers of the grave ? 



Give a new zest to bliss ? or chase the pangs 



Of everlasting punishment condign? 



Alas! how vain are mortal man's desires! 



