Written by
Robert Burns |
NO song nor dance I bring from yon great city,
That queens it o’er our taste—the more’s the pity:
Tho’ by the bye, abroad why will you roam?
Good sense and taste are natives here at home:
But not for panegyric I appear,
I come to wish you all a good New Year!
Old Father Time deputes me here before ye,
Not for to preach, but tell his simple story:
The sage, grave Ancient cough’d, and bade me say,
“You’re one year older this important day,”
If wiser too—he hinted some suggestion,
But ’twould be rude, you know, to ask the question;
And with a would-be roguish leer and wink,
Said—“Sutherland, in one word, bid them Think!”
Ye sprightly youths, quite flush with hope and spirit,
Who think to storm the world by dint of merit,
To you the dotard has a deal to say,
In his sly, dry, sententious, proverb way!
He bids you mind, amid your thoughtless rattle,
That the first blow is ever half the battle;
That tho’ some by the skirt may try to snatch him,
Yet by the foreclock is the hold to catch him;
That whether doing, suffering, or forbearing,
You may do miracles by persevering.
Last, tho’ not least in love, ye youthful fair,
Angelic forms, high Heaven’s peculiar care!
To you old Bald-pate smoothes his wrinkled brow,
And humbly begs you’ll mind the important-Now!
To crown your happiness he asks your leave,
And offers, bliss to give and to receive.
For our sincere, tho’ haply weak endeavours,
With grateful pride we own your many favours;
And howsoe’er our tongues may ill reveal it,
Believe our glowing bosoms truly feel it.
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Written by
Isaac Watts |
A state of nature and of grace.
1 Cor. 6:10,11.
Not the malicious or profane,
The wanton or the proud,
Nor thieves, nor sland'rers, shall obtain
Tue kingdom of our God.
Surprising grace! and such were we
By nature and by sin,
Heirs of immortal misery,
Unholy and unclean.
But we are washed in Jesus' blood,
We're pardoned through his name;
And the good Spirit of our God
Has sanctified our frame.
O for a persevering power
To keep thy just commands
We would defile our hearts no more,
No more pollute our hands.
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Written by
Isaac Watts |
Persevering grace.
Jude 1:24,25.
To God the only wise,
Our Savior and our King,
Let all the saints below the skies
Their humble praises bring.
'Tis his almighty love,
His counsel, and' his care,
Preserves us safe from sin and death,
And every hurtful snare.
He will present our souls,
Unblemished and complete,
Before the glory of his face,
With joys divinely great.
Then all the chosen seed
Shall meet around the throne,
Shall bless the conduct of his grace,
And make his wonders known.
To our Redeemer, God,
Wisdom and power belongs,
Immortal crowns of majesty,
And everlasting songs.
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