 | The miscellaneous works (1739) |  |
SOLILOQUY XXIX.
My God, support me in that gloomy hour,
When nature droops, and death's impending shade
With fatal darkness hovers o'er my head;
When honour, pleasure, wealth, and mortal friends
Shall prove but empty names, unmeaning sounds
And lying succours to my fainting soul;
While hell with all its complicated rage
Shall raise its last effort to break my peace.
When nature droops, and death's impending shade
With fatal darkness hovers o'er my head;
When honour, pleasure, wealth, and mortal friends
Shall prove but empty names, unmeaning sounds
And lying succours to my fainting soul;
While hell with all its complicated rage
Shall raise its last effort to break my peace.
Rebuke the tempest then, and let thy voice
In gentle accents bid the storm subside;
And dart a beam of glory on my soul,
When shiv'ring on the darksome verge of life,
She trembles at the first uncertain step,
That sets her on the strange, eternal coast;
Where all is new, amazing and unknown,
Nor ever yet conceiv'd by human thought,
In all its energy and liveliest flights.
In gentle accents bid the storm subside;
And dart a beam of glory on my soul,
When shiv'ring on the darksome verge of life,
She trembles at the first uncertain step,
That sets her on the strange, eternal coast;
Where all is new, amazing and unknown,
Nor ever yet conceiv'd by human thought,
In all its energy and liveliest flights.
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Then be the shore or gloomy, or serene,
On which the spirit freed from earthly chains
Shall set her dubious foot to meet her judge;
Whose doom will be exact, impartial, just;
And oh! when past, unchangeable and fix'd.
On which the spirit freed from earthly chains
Shall set her dubious foot to meet her judge;
Whose doom will be exact, impartial, just;
And oh! when past, unchangeable and fix'd.
Eternity! amazing dreadful word!
Eternity! in vain I would explore
Thy distant bounds; my wand'ring thoughts are lost,
I know not where to fix, 'tis all confusion.
Eternity! in vain I would explore
Thy distant bounds; my wand'ring thoughts are lost,
I know not where to fix, 'tis all confusion.
| The miscellaneous works (1739) | |