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We are thy offspring; we, whose heav'nly birth,
More than from aught that lives and creeps on earth,
Demands a grateful song: for man alone,
Of all earth's tenants, can address thy throne.

Thee will I sing; and sing thy Pow'r divine,
By which the sun and stars, and planets shine ;
And wheeling round the world, obey thy nod,
And joyful own an ever present God.
Thou guid’st with steady hand, and equal force,
The forked lightnings in their fiery course ;
When nature looks aghast, and trembling stands,
Waiting in solemn silence, thy commands.
But thou art wise in al ;-when thunders roll
In awful majesty from pole to pole ;
And when the lamps of night, and orb of day
In order move along their noiseless way,
All that inhabit heaven, and earth, and sea,
Think, speak, and act, as they are impell’d by thee ;
Save when the wicked violate thy laws,
Their own corrupt desires, the guilty cause.

Thou mak’st the frowning face of nature smile, And crown'st with beauty, things deform' and vile ; All jarring elements of good and ill, Touch'd by the plastic hand, obey thy will; And heavenly wisdom, great beyond control, Into one glorious system, forms the whole. But wretched men, by vice and folly led, Who ne'er in search of happiness have sped, With ears obstructed and averted eyes ; The eternal law of Reason dare despise, Which, had they kept it with obedient will, Had bless'd their days, and screen'd their life from ill. But, Ah! ill-fated men, they onward rush, And ev'ry virtuous feeling madly crush. Some pant for fame, by wild ambition fir’d, Some grasp at wealth, by love of gold inspir'd. Others in brutal sloth dream time away ; And some to pleasures give the night and day ;Pleasures of sense, which disappoint and cloy, And rob the aching heart of ev'ry joy.

But, mighty Jove, Thou bounteous Lord of all, Father of gods and men, on the I call. Though clouds and darkness gird thy dazzling throne, And by thy voice of thunder thou art known, Let thy paternal eye with pity see The sons of folly wand'ring far from thee.

Do ghineil 'sinne fòs d'an tug thu dealbh,
A's bith ro àrd os ceann nam brùidean balbh
Gu d' mholadh féin, oir do gach ni ni falbh
'Se 'n duine mhain is urrainn gairm air t'ainm.

Dhuit seinneam, seinneam fòs do'n ghàirdean threun
Tre 'm bheil a' ghrian 's a' ghealach anns an speur,
'S a' ruith mu'n cuairt a' chruinne réir do mhiann,
Gu h-ait ag ràdh gur h-uile làithreach Dia :
Ceart stiùraidh tu le neart do ghàirdein dearbht'
An dealan gobhlach, bras, 'na ghathaibh dearg,
Fo uamhann mòr a's crith 'n uair bhios gach dùil
'Nan tosd a' feitheamh foillseachaidh do rùin ;
Ach thus' is glic gach uair 'n uair bheuchdas fuaim
An tàirneinich a'marcachd neula luath ;
'S an uair a ghluaiseas rionnagan na h-oidhch',
A's lòchran mòr an là gun chlos, gun chlaoidh,
Luchd-àitich' nèimh gu léir, a's mara 's tìr',
Tha leats' a' gluas'd 'nan smuain, 'nan guth, ’s ’nan gniomh,
Ach 'n uair a bhriseas peacaich troimh do reachd
An t-aobhar tha 'n am miannaibh féin

gu

beachd. Gnùis ghruamach nàduir cuiridh tu fo aoibh, 'S le maise crùnaidh nithe 'b'aobhar oillt, Gach olc a's maith, 's eas-aonachd anns an t-saogh'l Do ghuth do bhéil bheir umhlachd, thoileach, shaor, 'S ni gliocas nèamhaidh mòr o's ceann gach feart An toirt mar aon gu còrdadh anns gach beairt. Ach daoine truagh a' ruith an déigh am miann, 'S a thòrachd sonais nach do charaich riamh, Le cluasaibh bodhar agus suilibh claon Lagh siorruidh reusain brisidh iad gu baothLagh fòs nam biodh iad dìleas, umhal dà A chuireadh aoibhneas crì' 'n an cup' a ghnàth. Ach Ah! mo chreach! dian ruithidh daoin' do'n olc, 'S gach smaointinn ion-mholt' ni gun chiall a mhort ; Le miann air ainm tha aigne cuid air ghoil, Cuid fòs a's gràdh an òir 'g an cur air boilm Cuid eil' an lunnd ni tiom a chosd gun stàth, 'S do shòlasaibh bheir cuid an oidhch' 's an là : 'S iad sòlais mhealltach, bhreugach, bhràideil, bhreun, 'S a dh'fhàgas daonnan acain ghoirt ’n an déigh.

Ach thus' a Righ nam feart an àird nan speur, 'S ann ort a ghairmeam, Athair dhaoin' a's dhée ; God chuartaich neula dorcha tàite tàimh, 'S a chluinnear anns an tàirneanach do chainnt, Gu h-athaireil, bàigheil, seall le h-iochd a nuas Air mic na gòraich 'dol air seachran uait

On their benighted eyes thy knowledge pour,
That they may stray in error's path no more.
Does heav'nly wisdom o'er the world preside?
Let the same wisdom all their footsteps guide.
Thus honour'd, we the nobler honour raise,
For man was form'd for thy increasing praise ;
And blest are gods and men, whoever sing
The UNIVERSAL Law of their immortal king.

THE FORTY-FIFTH PSALM. My ardent heart, with holy raptures fir'd, Which this sublime, this heav'nly theme inspired, Sends forth good things. In lofty strains I sing The pow'r and grandeur of the Almighty King. Than tongue can speak, swifter than pen can go, From my transported breast melodious numbers flow.

All human beauty thou dost far surpass, Such is the dazzling brightness of thy face. Ten thousand suns in one united blaze, Would all be lost in thy superior rays. Around thy head celestial graces shine, Eternal bliss and glory shall be thine. Go, hero, arm’d with unresisted might, Gird on thy sword, prepare thyseif to fight. Array'd in majesty, ascend thy car, And undisturb’d drive on the prosp'rous war. Display thy pow'r, thine en’mies all confound, Yet gracious, and still with mercy crown'd. The justice of thy cause shall thee inspire With holy brav'ry and undaunted fire : Thy foes shall fall beneath thy conquering sword, And conquer'd kings acknowledge thee their Lord.

All power is thine, supreme Jehovah ! thine Infinite empire and eternal reign By thy just laws are haughty tyrants sway'd, Thou hat’st the bad, the righteous man dost aid : For this, my God, thee monarch of the sky. Above all rival pow'r, exalts thee high Within thy iv'ry courts in shining state, Around thy throne attendant princes wait: While thou amidst perfumes, on high reclin'd, Dost feed with pure delight thy silent mind. Here royal handmaids wait their Lord's command, At thy right side thy beauteous queen doth stand,

D'an sùilean dall thoir eòlas air do ghlòir
A chum 's nach téid air seachran iad ni's mò.
Fo stiùradh gliocais nèamhaidh ma tha 'n saogh 'I
An gliocas ceudna stiúradh cos-cheum dhaoin';
Fo mheas mar so cha bhi ar teanga balbh,
Oir 's ann gu d' mholadh a chaidh duine dhealbh ;
'S is sona daoin' a's dée nach sguir gu sior
A sheinn air lagh ro tharsuinn, mòr an Righ.

AN CUIGEAMH SALM THAR AN DA-FHICHEAD.

Do aoibhneas naomh mo chridhe maoth ta làn
Le m'aobhar ciùil o'n tionnsgain mi mo dhàn,
'S mi 'cur an céill gu fonnmhor àrd le cliù
Sar chumhachd fior, a's mòrachd Righ nan dùl.
Na bhruidhneas teang' 's na sgriobhas peann neo-chlì
Tha rannan ciùil a' teachd ni's dlùith' o m' chridh.

Uil' mhaise dhaoin' tha tàilleachd chaoin-s' os cionn,
Oir ’s àillidh, ciatach dealradh fiamh do ghnùis;
Deich mìle grian, ge b'àillidh 'n sgiamh gu léir,
Gu'm biodh 'san duibhr' an làth'ir do shoillse féin.
Mud' chuairt gu léir tha grasa nèamhaidh 'soills';
'S bidh àgh a's giòir gun chrioch ’na d' chòir a chaoidh.
O Ghaisgich! rach 'na d' neart ro ghaisgeil, treun,
'S do chlaidheamh crioslaich air do leis gu feum,
A'd' mhòrachd dhealraich rach a'd' charbad suas,
A's cuir, ( Righ! an cath gu crich le buaidh.
Do chumhachd foillsich, 's aimhreitich do naimh,
Ach tròcair ghràsmhor bidh gu bràth a'd' laimh :
Bheir t’aobhar ceartais misneach, neart, a's clì,
Le naomh-euchd treun dhuit leis an dean thu strì
Do naimhdean sgathar leat fo d' chlaidheamh treun,
'S their righrean cìosnaicht' gur h-e ’n Triath thu féin.

Gach neart 's leat féin, Iehobhah, Dhé is àird,
'S a'd' chathair-righ gu'n rioghaich thu gu bràth ;
Borb-righrean reachd'or tha fo smachd do reachd,
'S fuath leat an t-aingidh, 'm firean 's annsa leat,
Fan aobhar sin tha Dia, Ard-Righ nan nèamh,
Ga d' thogail suas an cumhachd buadhar, treun.
A'd' chùirtibh greadhnach, feuch! tha prionnsan mòr.
Mu d' chathair-righ a' feitheamh air do ghlòir ;
'S thu féin gu h-àrd an cùbh’rachd thlàth 'san sìth,
'S fior aoibhneas àghmhor 'sàsachadh do chridh'.
Tha nigh’nean righ a' frithealadh 'na d' chòir,
'S do bha-nrigh 'seasamh air do dheas-laimh fòs,

Her costly robes with golden foliage wrought,
Perfum'd with odours from Arabia brought.

But thou, O queen! give ear and understand,
Forget thy father's house, and native land :
Let now thy former loves be all resign'd,
And on thy hero fix thy longing mind.
The enamour'd prince shall doat upon thy charms,
Hang on thy lips, and fold thee in his arms;
He'll place thee next himself in state and pow'r,
(But thou with rev’rence still thy God adore.)
The Tyrian queen shall leave her native seat,
And, fraught with gifts, in thy apartments wait:
The rich, and all deriv'd of noble race,
Shall court thy favour, and implore thy grace.

Behold the princess cloth'd in rich attire,
Great King ! thy destin'd spouse, thy soul's desire ;
Her robes adorn'd with interwoven gold,
Her radiant face more glorious to behold :
In charms how far superior is her mind !
All graces here, all virtues are combin'd.

Lo! Prince, thy royal bride. this lovely maid,
She comes to thee in nuptial robes array'd ;
Where needle-work its living art displays,
And sparkling gems reflect the golden rays.
Behold, amidst a choir of virgins bright,
She walks, surpassing fair, and charms the sight;
While winning graces and majestic mien,
Confess her grandeur and declare her queen ;
She, thus surrounded by the gazing throng,
In glad procession shall be brought along,
With her associate nymphs, shall joyful come,
And, thronging, enter thy imperial dome.

But thou, O queen ! suspend thy pious care,
No more lament thy dame and aged sire :
Instead of these thou joyful shall embrace
Thy num'rous progeny, a happy race ;
For grandeur much, for virtue more renown'd,
And all in future times with empires crown'd.

Thou art the glorious subject of my lays,
To nations far remov'd I'll sing thy praise,
While fleeting shades around the mountains turn,
And twinkling stars in midnight watches burn;
Wbile orient Phæbus gilds the purple day,

Thy honour, praise, and fame shall ne'er decay. [The translation of this Psalm, like many other Pieces given in

this Work, was executed by the Rev. Angus Macintyre, Kin. lochspelvie, Mull, when a boy at school.]

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