A lady piqued at Johnson's scrupulous advocacy of truth, once asserted that little variations in narrative must happen many times a day, without one is perpetual watching. To which Johnson replied, "Well, madam, and you ought to be perpetually watching. It is more from carelessness about truth, than from intentional lying, that there is so much falsehood in the world."
The heavens declare thy glory, Lord-
The spacious firmament thy word
Created bright from day to day,
Thy sun to shine and power display.
Thy myriad stars which beam on high
Proclaim, O God, that thou art nigh.
Throughout thy works thy presence shines-
Thy works above no voice confines,
Throughout the myriad host of heaven,
Where speech or language thou hast given.
Their line extends from pole to pole,
Their words proclaim to every soul
Thou art their God, Almighty, Lord,
Worthy alone to be adored.
Thy morning light rejoicing beams
Refulgent in its golden streams,
From that bright orb whose glorious flame
Emblazons high thy sacred name,
Forthcoming as a bridegroom clad,
Whose smile exulting nature, glad
To own her lord, arising bright
From out his chamber for the night,
Rejoicing in his course begun,
Exulting for the goal to run,
His genial ray pervading all,
Refreshing every living soul.
Thy law, O Lord, is perfect, pure-
Thy testimony safe and sure;
The soul converting-making wise
The simple heart-the filmy eyes
Enlight'ning all thy statutes right,
And thy commandment my delight.
Thy fear is clean, which lives for ever,
Thy judgments righteous altogether;
To be desired more than gold,
Or aught the golden mines unfold;
Sweeter than the honey-comb
By them thy servant's warned from
His secret faults, and understands
The errors which impede his hands;
For thou, O God, must be my guard,
My great preserver and reward.
Keep me from presumptuous sin-
Let me own thy glory in
Every thought my heart conceals,
Every word my tongue reveals;
Accepted, pure, and free from guile,
Let me own thy fav'ring smile;
For thou alone my strength canst be
Or keep my soul in purity—
My great Redeemer, and my Lord,
Worthy alone to be adored.
Our work of love is finish'd now,
Our pleasant task is ended;
The blossoms cull'd from many a bough
In one bright wreath are blended.
But flowers alone can ne'er repay
Their efforts who entwin'd them,
Unless they leave, when pass'd away,
Enduring fruits behind them.
To YOU we turn, for whose dear sakes
Were glean'd these scatter'd blossoms,
And many a warm hope fondly wakes
For you-within our bosoms.
Now in the morning of your day,
With hearts and spirits tender,
To Him their truest strength and stay,
Your every hope surrender.
His friendship, only, changeth not,
His favour never falters!
Oh, how unlike the world's, I wot,
Whose aspect hourly alters!
If, for HIS CAUSE, you early slight
Earth's gauds-you will not need 'em ;
Easy His yoke, His burthen light,
His service-perfect freedom!
Farewell! unto HIS WORD take heed,
Which happier makes-and wiser!
And may you better "reck the rede,”*
Than ever did the adviser.
So shall the joy that truly glads,
The peace which thought surpasses,
Be shower'd on Brookfield's merry Lads,
Its dear and gentle Lasses.
"Reck the rede," i,e. "heed the counsel."-See Burns' Epistle to a Young Friend.
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