I.

W HILE my Redeemer's near,
My shepherd and my guide,
I bid farewell to anxious sear,
My wants are all supply'd.
II.

To ever-fragrant meads,
Where rich abundance grows,
His gracious hand indulgent leads,
And guards my sweet repose.

III.

Along the lovely scene,
Cool waters gently roll,
And kind refreshment smiles serene,
To cheer my fainting soul.

IV.

Here let my spirit rest;
How sweet a lot is mine!
With pleasure, food, and safety blest;
Beneficence divine!

V.

Dear shepherd, if I stray,
My wandering feet restore,
To thy fair pastures guide my way,
And let me rove no more.

VI.

Unworthy, as I am,
Of thy protecting care,
Jesus, I plead thy gracious name,
For all my hopes are there.

I.

L E t the Trumpets sound,

And the Rocks rebound,
Our English Natives comming;
Let the Nations swarm,
And the Princes storm;
We value not their drumming,
'Tis not France that looks so smug
Old fashions still renewing,
It is not the Spanish shrug,
Scotish cap, or Irish rug;
Nor the Dutch-mans double jug
Can help what is ensuing,
Pray my Masters look about,
For something is a Brewing.

2.

He that is a Favorite consulting with Fortune,
If he grow not wiser, then he's quite undone;
In a rising Creature we daily see certainly,
He is a Retreater that fails to go on:
He that in a Builder's trade
Stops e're the Roof be made,
By the Aire he may be betray'd
And overthrown:
He that hath a Race begun,
And let's the Goale be won;
He had better never run,
But let't alone.

3.

Then plot rightly,
March sightly,
Shew your glittering Arms brightly:
Charge hightly,
Fight sprightly:
Fortune gives renown.
A right riser
Will prize her,
She makes all the World wiser;
Still try her,
Wee'l gain by her
A Coffin or a Crown.

4.

If the Dutchman or the Spaniard
Come but to oppose us,
We will thrust them out of the Main-yard,
If they do but nose us:
Hans, Hans , think upon thy sins,
And then submit to Spain thy Master;
For though now you look like Friends,
Yet he will never trust you after;
Drink, drink, give the Dutchman drink
And let the tap and kan run faster;
For faith, at the last I think
A brewer will become your Master.

5.

Let not poor Teg and Shone
Vender from der Houses,
Lest dey be quite undone
In der very trowzes:
And all her Orphans bestow'd under hatches,
And made in London free der to cry matches;
St. Patrick wid his Harp do tun'd wid tru string
Is not fit to unty St. Hewson's shooes-strings.

6.

Methinks I hear
The Welch draw near,
And from each lock a louse trops;
Ap Shon ap LLoyd,
Will spen'd her ploot.
For to defend her mouse-traps:
Mounted on her Kifflebagh
With coot store of Koradagh ,
The Pritish war begins.
With a hook her was over come her
Pluck her to her, thrust her from her,
By cot her was preak her shins.
Let Taffy fret,
And Welch-hook whet,
And troop up Pettigrees;
We only tout,
Tey will stink us out,
Wit Leeks and toasted Sheeze.

7.

But Jockie now and Jinny comes,
Our Brethren must approve on't;
For pret a Cot dey beat der drums
Onely to break de Couvenant.
Dey bore St. Andrew's Crosse,
Till our Army quite did rout dem,
But when we put um to de Losse
De deal a Crosse about dem:
The King and Couvenant they crave,
Their Cause must needs be further'd;
Although so many Kings they have
Most barbarously, basely murther'd.

8.

The French-man he will give consent,
Though he trickle in our veins;
That willingly
We may agree,
To a marriage with Grapes and Graines:
He conquers us with kindnesse,
And doth so far entrench,
That fair, and wise, and young, and rich
Are finified by the French :
He prettifies us with Feathers and Fans,
With Petticoats, Doublets, and Hose:
And faith they shall
Be welcome all
If they forbear the nose.
For love or for fear,
Let Nations forbear;
If fortune exhibit a Crown,
A Coward he
Must surely be,
That will not put it on.