Thy love the powers of thought bestow’d,
  To thee my thoughts would soar;
Thy mercy o’er my life has flow’d—­
  That mercy I adore.

In each event of life, how clear,
  Thy ruling hand I see;
Each blessing to my soul more dear,
  Because conferr’d by thee.

In every joy that crowns my days,
  In every pain I bear,
My heart shall find delight in praise,
  Or seek relief in prayer.

When gladness wings my favour’d hour,
  Thy love my thoughts shall fill: 
Resign’d, when storms of sorrow lower,
  My soul shall meet thy will.

My lifted eye without a tear
  The lowring storm shall see;
My stedfast heart shall know no fear—­
  That heart will rest on Thee!

Paraphrases
from
Scripture.

  The day is thine, the night also is thine; thou hast prepared the
  light and the sun.

  Thou hast set all the borders of the earth; thou hast made summer and
  winter.

Psalm lxxiv. 16, 17.

My God! all nature owns thy sway,
Thou giv’st the night, and thou the day! 
When all thy lov’d creation wakes,
When morning, rich in lustre breaks,
And bathes in dew the op’ning flower,
To thee we owe her fragrant hour;
And when she pours her choral song,
Her melodies to thee belong!

Or when, in paler tints array’d,
The evening slowly spreads her shade;
That soothing shade, that grateful gloom,
Can more than day’s enliv’ning bloom
Still every fond, and vain desire,
And calmer, purer, thoughts inspire;
From earth the pensive spirit free,
And lead the soften’d heart to Thee.

In every scene thy hands have drest,
In every form by thee imprest,
Upon the mountain’s awful head,
Or where the shelt’ring woods are spread;
In every note that swells the gale,
Or tuneful stream that cheers the vale,
The cavern’s depth, or echoing grove,
A voice is heard of praise, and love.

As o’er thy work the seasons roll,
And sooth with change of bliss, the soul,
Oh never may their smiling train
Pass o’er the human scene in vain! 
But oft as on the charm we gaze,
Attune the wond’ring soul to praise;
And be the joys that most we prize,
The joys that from thy favour rise!

Can a woman forget her sucking child, that she should not have compassion on the son of her womb?  Yea, they may forget, yet will I not forget thee.

Isaiah xlix. 15.

Heaven speaks!  Oh Nature listen and rejoice! 
Oh spread from pole to pole this gracious voice! 
“Say every breast of human frame, that proves
“The boundless force with which a parent loves;
“Say, can a mother from her yearning heart
“Bid the soft image of her child depart? 
“She! whom strong instinct arms with strength to bear
“All forms of ill, to shield that dearest care;