ON THE

PARAPHRASE OF THE LORD'S PRAYER,

WRITTEN BY MRS. WHARTON.

SILENCE, you Winds! listen, ethereal Lights!
While our Urania sings what Heav'n indites:
The numbers are the nymph's; but from above
Descends the pledge of that eternal love.
Here wretched mortals have not leave alone,
But are instructed to approach his throne;
And how can he to miserable men
Deny requests which his own hand did pen?
In the Evangelists we find the prose
Which, paraphras'd by her, a poem grows;
A devout rapture! so divine a hymn,
It may become the highest seraphim!
For they, like her, in that celestial choir,
Sing only what the spirit does inspire.
Taught by our Lord and theirs, with us they may
For all but pardon for offences pray.

SOME REFLECTIONS OF HIS

UPON THE

SEVERAL PETITIONS IN THE SAME PRAYER.

I. His sacred name with reverence profound Should mention'd be, and trembling at the sound! It was Jehovah; 'tis Our Father now;

So low to us does Heav'n vouchsafe to bow1! He brought it down that taught us how to pray, And did so dearly for our ransom pay.

II. His kingdom come. For this we pray in vain,
Unless he does in our affections reign.
Absurd it were to wish for such a King,
And not obedience to his sceptre bring,
Whose yoke is easy, and his burden light,
His service freedom, and his judgments right.
III. His will be done. In fact 'tis always done;
But, as in Heav'n, it must be made our own.
His will should all our inclinations sway,
Whom Nature and the universe obey.
Happy the man! whose wishes are confin'd
To what has been eternally design'd;
Referring all to his paternal care,

To whom more dear than to ourselves we are.
IV. It is not what our avarice hoards up;
Tis he that feeds us, and that fills our cup :
Like new-born babes depending on the breast,
From day to day we on his bounty feast:
Nor should the soul expect above a day
To dwell in her frail tenement of clay :

The setting sun should seem to bound our race, And the new day a gift of special grace.

V. That he should all our trespasses forgive, While we in hatred with our neighbours live: Though so to pray may seem an easy task, We curse ourselves when thus inclin'd we ask. This pray'r to use, we ought with equal care Our souls, as to the sacrament, prepare. The noblest worship of the Pow'r above, Is to extol and imitate his love;

Not to forgive our enemies alone,

But use our bounty that they may be won.
VI. Guard us from all temptations of the foc;
And those we may in several stations know:
The rich and poor in slippery places stand,
Give us enough! but with a sparing hand!
Not ill-persuading want, nor wanton wealth,
But what proportion'd is to life and health :
For not the dead but living sing thy praise,
Exalt thy kingdom, and thy glory raise.

Favete linguis! ***
Virginibus puerisque canto.

HOR.

ON THE

FOREGOING DIVINE POEMS.

WHEN we for age could neither read nor write,
The subject made us able to indite :
The soul, with nobler resolutions deckt,
The body stooping, does herself erect.
No mortal parts are requisite to raise
Her that, unbodied, can her Maker praise.
The seas are quiet when the winds give o'er :
So calm are we when passions are no more!
For then we know how vain it was to boast
Of fleeting things, so certain to be lost.
Clouds of affection from our younger eyes
Conceal that emptiness which age descries.

The soul's dark cottage, batter'd and decay'd,
Lets in new light through chinks that time has made:
Stronger by weakness, wiser men become,
As they draw near to their eternal home.
Leaving the old, both worlds at once they view,
That stand upon the threshold of the new.

... Miratur limen Olympi.

VIRG.

END OF VOL. I.

C. WHITTINGHAM, Printer, Union Buildings, Leather Lane.