The TRAVELLER

While oft from clime to clime I go, Ordain'd to travel to and fro; To be my guard by land and sea, Who have I, who, my God, but thee? And let me boast this glorious aid; For who preserves like him that made? What armour shields like thy defence? And is there care like Providence? When on the deep I take my way, And round my bark the billows play, How should I 'scape the greedy wave, Wert thou not ready there to save? How should I climb yon summit's brow, And shun the yawning gulph below, Wert thou not still, my Saviour, by, To fix my step, and point my eye? I turn me oft, the labour past, To view some scene behind me cast; An Alps, perhaps, or Appenine, And wonder—but the work was thine. By thee my feeble strength sustains The height of hills, and length of plains; By thee I track the mazy wood, And smoothly pass the rapid flood. If now I urge my tedious course, Till toil and day-light pall my force; Thy hand brings on the evening close, And marks the inn for my repose. Or, if I start ere morning light, And now bewail the lingering night, Thou bidst the sun his beams display, And look the darkness into day. In wilds, where stroll the savage brood, Or men, more savage, lurk for blood; If those I awe, or these decline, 'Tis by no art, nor power of mine. Here flames of lighted sulphur rise; Here sudden deluges surprize; Here frequent earthquakes round me jar; And here I breathe in poison'd air. But don't I every where advance Thro' ambushes of death and chance? Yet all things wait on thy decree, And death and chance are rul'd by thee. Thou'rt still my present help and stay, For, oh, thou canst not be away! I see thee, feel thee, all abroad, And tho' 'tis nature acts, 'tis God. Hail! Maker and Preserver, thou, Thou Chief above, and Chief below! Whose mercies no where, never fail; Hail! Maker and Preserver, hail!