A Song on Mr Coughron and Family, Leaving Hebron Hill

To fertile soil, and fragrant air,
Be it, great God, thy will
To guard, with thy parental care,
My friends of Hebron Hill.

In some luxuriant calm retreat,
Where nature may instil
Her choicest charms--there make a seat
For those of Hebron Hill.

Bestow, by thy all-bounteous hand,
The richest turf to till;
And crops increase at thy command,
To those of Hebron Hill.

May providence protect them, there,
And virtue’s vest their will:
And copious comforts ever share,
With those of Hebron Hill.

With friendly neighbours let them live,
Renown’d for wit and skill;
And grace, and glory, amply give,
Those now on Hebron Hill.

My heart expands by lib’ral love,
’Twill with fruition fill,
If pristine powers propitious prove,
To all at Hebron Hill.