And sweet your Voice, as Seraph's song. SONNET. TO THE AUTUMNAL MOON. MILD Splendor of the various-vested Night! ANTHEM FOR THE CHILDREN OF CHRIST'S HOSPITAL. SERAPHS! around th' Eternal's seat who throng O! teach our feeble tongues like yours the song Like you, inspir'd with holy flame To dwell on that Almighty name Who bade the child of woe no longer sigh, Th' all-gracious Parent hears the wretch's prayer; And bids compassion seek the realms of woe She comes! she comes! the meek ey'd power I see With liberal hand that loves to bless; The clouds of sorrow at her presence flee; Rejoice! rejoice! ye children of distress! The beams that play around her head Thro' want's dark vale their radiance spread : The young uncultur'd mind imbibes the ray, And vice reluctant quits th' expected prey. Cease, thou lorn mother! cease thy wailings drear · Or let full gratitude now prompt the tear In life's morn oft the traveller chill, But soon his path the sun of Love shall warm; |