A
NIGHT-PIECE
.
BY
THE
SAME
.
WHILE
Night
in
solemn
shade
invests
the
pole
,
And
calm
Reflexion
soothes
the
pensive
soul
;
While
Reason
undisturb'd
asserts
her
sway
,
And
Life's
deceitful
colours
fade
away
:
To
thee
!
all-conscious
presence
!
I
devote
This
peaceful
interval
of
sober
thought
.
Here
all
my
better
faculties
confine
,
And
be
this
hour
of
sacred
silence
thine
.
If
by
the
day's
illusive
scenes
misled
,
My
erring
soul
from
Virtue's
path
has
stray'd
:
Snar'd
by
example
,
or
by
passion
warm'd
,
Some
false
delight
my
giddy
sense
has
charm'd
,
My
calmer
thoughts
the
wretched
choice
reprove
,
And
my
best
hopes
are
center'd
in
thy
love
.
Depriv'd
of
this
,
can
life
one
joy
afford
!
Its
utmost
boast
a
vain
unmeaning
word
.
But
ah
!
how
oft
my
lawless
passions
rove
,
And
break
those
awful
precepts
I
approve
!
Pursue
the
fatal
impulse
I
abhor
,
And
violate
the
Virtue
I
adore
!
Oft'
when
thy
better
spirit's
guardian
care
Warm'd
my
fond
soul
to
shun
the
tempting
snare
,
My
stubborn
Will
his
gentle
aid
represt
.
And
check'd
the
rising
Goodness
in
my
breast
,
Mad
with
vain
hopes
,
or
urg'd
by
false
desires
,
Still'd
his
soft
voice
,
and
quench'd
his
sacred
fires
.
With
grief
opprest
,
and
prostrate
in
the
dust
,
Shouldst
thou
condemn
,
I
own
the
sentence
just
.
But
oh
!
thy
softer
titles
let
me
claim
,
And
plead
my
cause
by
Mercy's
gentle
name
.
Mercy
,
that
wipes
the
penitential
tear
,
And
dissipates
the
horrors
of
Despair
:
From
rigorous
Justice
steals
the
vengeful
hour
;
Softens
the
dreadful
attribute
of
Power
;
Disarms
the
wrath
of
an
offended
God
,
And
seals
my
pardon
in
a
Saviour's
blood
.
All-powerful
Grace
,
exert
thy
gentle
sway
,
And
teach
my
rebel
passions
to
obey
:
Lest
lurking
Folly
with
insidious
art
Regain
my
volatile
inconstant
heart
.
Shall
every
high
resolve
Devotion
frames
,
Be
only
lifeless
sounds
and
specious
names
?
O
rather
while
thy
hopes
and
fears
controul
,
In
this
still
hour
each
motion
of
my
soul
,
Secure
its
safety
by
a
sudden
doom
,
And
be
the
soft
retreat
of
Sleep
my
tomb
.
Calm
let
me
slumber
in
that
dark
repose
,
Till
the
last
morn
its
orient
beam
disclose
:
Then
,
when
the
great
Archangel's
potent
sound
Shall
echo
thro'
Creation's
ample
round
,
Wak'd
from
the
sleep
of
death
with
joy
survey
The
opening
splendors
of
eternal
day
.