Most of the Works of the Pagan Poets were either direct Hymns to their Deities, or tended indirectly to the Celebration of their respective Attributes and Perfections.  Those who are acquainted with the Works of the Greek and Latin Poets which are still extant, will upon Reflection find this Observation so true, that I shall not enlarge upon it.  One would wonder that more of our Christian Poets have not turned their Thoughts this way, especially if we consider, that our Idea of the Supream Being is not only infinitely more Great and Noble than what could possibly enter into the Heart of an Heathen, but filled with every thing that can raise the Imagination, and give an Opportunity for the sublimest Thoughts and Conceptions.

Plutarch tells of a Heathen who was singing an Hymn to Diana, in which he celebrated her for her Delight in Human Sacrifices, and other Instances of Cruelty and Revenge; upon which a Poet who was present at this piece of Devotion, and seems to have had a truer Idea of the Divine Nature, told the Votary, by way of Reproof, that in recompence for his Hymn, he heartily wished he might have a Daughter of the same Temper with the Goddess he celebrated.  It was indeed impossible to write the Praises of one of those false Deities, according to the Pagan Creed, without a mixture of Impertinence and Absurdity.

The Jews, who before the Times of Christianity were the only People that had the Knowledge of the True God, have set the Christian World an Example how they ought to employ this Divine Talent of which I am speaking.  As that Nation produced Men of great Genius, without considering them as inspired Writers, they have transmitted to us many Hymns and Divine Odes, which excel those that are delivered down to us by the Ancient Greeks and Romans, in the Poetry, as much as in the Subject to which it was consecrated.  This I think might easily be shewn, if there were occasion for it.

I have already communicated to the Publick some Pieces of Divine Poetry, and as they have met with a very favourable Reception, I shall from time to time publish any Work of the same nature which has not yet appeared in Print, [1] and may be acceptable to my Readers.

  I. When all thy Mercies, O my God,
          My rising Soul surveys;
        Transported with the View, I’m lost
          In Wonder, Love, and Praise: 

  II.  O how shall Words with equal Warmth
          The Gratitude declare
        That glows within my ravish’d Heart? 
          But thou canst read it there.

  III.  Thy Providence my Life sustain’d,
          And all my Wants redrest,
        When in the silent Womb I lay,
          And hung upon the Breast.

  IV.  To all my weak Complaints and Cries,
          Thy Mercy lent an Ear,
        Ere yet my feeble Thoughts had learnt
          To form themselves in Pray’r.