Poem by Anna Laetitia Barbauld

This Solemn Day

When, as returns this solemn day,
Man comes to meet his maker God,
What rites, what honours shall he pay?
How spread his sovereign's praise abroad?
From marble domes and gilded spires
Shall curling clouds of incense rise?
And gems, and gold, and garlands deck
The costly pomp of sacrifice?
Vain sinful man! Creation's lord
Thy golden offerings well may spare;
But give thy heart, and thou shalt find,
Here dwells a God who heareth prayer. 

1. An Inventory of the Furniture in Dr. Priestley's Study
2. The Invitation, to Miss B—
3. Song 3 (LEAVE me, simple shepherd, leave me)
4. To Miss R—, on her Attendance upon her Mother at Buxton
5. Song 5 (AS near a weeping spring reclin'd)

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