No. III

Life 's but a Load, a tedious Pain,
A Curse, if I must live in vain.
Shall I my Hours inactive spend?
Or thus be active to no End?
O Thou who didst these Pow'rs infuse,
Exalt them to a noble Use.
Direct my Thinking Faculty
No more to rove, but fix on Thee:
Allure my Will Thyself to chuse,
And all inferior Good refuse!
O! teach my Passions to aspire
To Thee, and burn with heav'nly Fire?
My Conscience to perform its Part
On Thy Tribunal in my Heart!
My Tongue to celebrate Thy Grace,
And every Breath to utter Praise;
My Eyes to see Thy Glories shine
Thro' this fair Universe of Thine;
My Ears to hear with rapt'rous Joys,
The charming Music of Thy Voice:
This Spark of weak poetic Fire
Refine, and teach it to aspire:
Let all I have, and all I am
Be sacred to Thy glorious Name,
Thus train me to th' Employ above,
Ere to these Regions I remove.