tended indirectly to the Celebration of their respective
Attributes and Perfections. Those who are acquainted with the Works of
the Greek and Latin Poets which are still extant, will upon Reflection
find this Observation so true, that I shall not enlarge upon it. One
would wonder that more of our Christian Poets have not turned their
Thoughts this way, especially if we consider, that our Idea of the
Supream Being is not only infinitely more Great and Noble than what
could possibly enter into the Heart of an Heathen, but filled with every
thing that can raise the Imagination, and give an Opportunity for the
sublimest Thoughts and Conceptions.

_Plutarch_ tells of a Heathen who was singing an Hymn to _Diana_, in
which he celebrated her for her Delight in Human Sacrifices, and other
Instances of Cruelty and Revenge; upon which a Poet who was present at
this piece of Devotion, and seems to have had a truer Idea of the Divine
Nature, told the Votary, by way of Reproof, that in recompence for his
Hymn, he heartily wished he might have a Daughter of the same Temper
with the Goddess he celebrated. It was indeed impossible to write the
Praises of one of those false Deities, according to the Pagan Creed,
without a mixture of Impertinence and Absurdity.

The _Jews_, who before the Times of Christianity were the only People
that had the Knowledge of the True God, have set the Christian World an
Example how they ought to employ this Divine Talent of which I am
speaking. As that Nation produced Men of great Genius, without
considering them as inspired Writers, they have transmitted to us many
Hymns and Divine Odes, which excel those that are delivered down to us
by the Ancient _Greeks_ and _Romans_, in the Poetry, as much as in the
Subject to which it was consecrated. This I think might easily be shewn,
if there were occasion for it.

I have already communicated to the Publick some Pieces of Divine Poetry,
and as they have met with a very favourable Reception, I shall from time
to time publish any Work of the same nature which has not yet appeared
in Print, [1] and may be acceptable to my Readers.

I. When all thy Mercies, O my God,
My rising Soul surveys;
Transported with the View, I'm lost
In Wonder, Love, and Praise:

II. O how shall Words with equal Warmth
The Gratitude declare
That glows within my ravish'd Heart?
But thou canst read it there.

III. T