Poems on Several Occasions By Mary Masters |
A Meditation upon these Words, Arise, ye Dead, and come to Judgment.
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Poems on Several Occasions | ||
A Meditation upon these Words, Arise, ye Dead, and come to Judgment.
Methinks, I hear a Sound of Dread,
Those awful words “Arise ye Dead”
To Judgment come, without delay,
'Tis, now, the great accounting Day.
Behold! the Moon in Blood is set,
The Heav'ns consume with fervent Heat.
Loud Thunders roar, Destruction falls,
And whirls along in flaming Balls.
The Lamp of Day, O horrid Sight!
Extinguish'd lies in fatal Night.
Now spreading Flames, from Pole to Pole,
O'er the wide Earth devouring roll;
Drink up her Seas, dissolve her Hills,
And Heav'n with Smoke and Tempest fills.
The last tremendous Trumpet's Sound
Summons the People under-ground.
See! how the frighted Nations rise,
Observe, my Soul! with what Surprize!
From op'ning Graves some croud in haste,
Some are from foaming Billows cast;
From brazen Urn, and Marble Tomb,
See the collected Bodies come!
Egyptian Kings no more are hid
Within a stately Pyramid;
But, mixing in the common Throng,
Advance with trembling Steps along.
None are exempted from the Call,
The dreadful Word is meant to all.
Without Distinction or Delay,
The dreadful Summons all obey.
How vast a Multitude is here!
How great the Numbers that appear!
On ev'ry side in Crouds they come,
And hasten to their final Doom.
Those awful words “Arise ye Dead”
To Judgment come, without delay,
'Tis, now, the great accounting Day.
Behold! the Moon in Blood is set,
The Heav'ns consume with fervent Heat.
Loud Thunders roar, Destruction falls,
And whirls along in flaming Balls.
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Extinguish'd lies in fatal Night.
Now spreading Flames, from Pole to Pole,
O'er the wide Earth devouring roll;
Drink up her Seas, dissolve her Hills,
And Heav'n with Smoke and Tempest fills.
The last tremendous Trumpet's Sound
Summons the People under-ground.
See! how the frighted Nations rise,
Observe, my Soul! with what Surprize!
From op'ning Graves some croud in haste,
Some are from foaming Billows cast;
From brazen Urn, and Marble Tomb,
See the collected Bodies come!
Egyptian Kings no more are hid
Within a stately Pyramid;
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Advance with trembling Steps along.
None are exempted from the Call,
The dreadful Word is meant to all.
Without Distinction or Delay,
The dreadful Summons all obey.
How vast a Multitude is here!
How great the Numbers that appear!
On ev'ry side in Crouds they come,
And hasten to their final Doom.
But hark! the Trumpet's shriller Cry
Proclaims the awful Judge is nigh:
Behold! he is already here,
And all the Just in Hope draw near,
But 'tis a Hope chastis'd with Fear.
For who a Judge, a God can view,
And not some Signs of Terror shew?
Proclaims the awful Judge is nigh:
Behold! he is already here,
And all the Just in Hope draw near,
But 'tis a Hope chastis'd with Fear.
189
And not some Signs of Terror shew?
The Book of Life is open'd, where
Their Names in purest Leaves appear.
Thrice happy they, who fill a Line
Within that History divine!
Oh may it be my chiefest Care
To get my Name recorded there!
Black Fiends with fruitless Spite arraign,
And blotted Crimes revive in vain.
For who can fear Infernal Hate
When Jesus is their Advocate?
Their Judge and Saviour He whose veins
With cleansing Streams wash'd off their Stains.
Ye faithful Bands, he cries, draw near,
To Me, to my great Father dear;
Receive the rich, the vast Reward,
So long expected from your Lord.
Design'd for Joys at his Right-Hand,
The choice elected Numbers stand.
Their Names in purest Leaves appear.
Thrice happy they, who fill a Line
Within that History divine!
Oh may it be my chiefest Care
To get my Name recorded there!
Black Fiends with fruitless Spite arraign,
And blotted Crimes revive in vain.
For who can fear Infernal Hate
When Jesus is their Advocate?
Their Judge and Saviour He whose veins
With cleansing Streams wash'd off their Stains.
Ye faithful Bands, he cries, draw near,
To Me, to my great Father dear;
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So long expected from your Lord.
Design'd for Joys at his Right-Hand,
The choice elected Numbers stand.
And, now, he turns with wrathful Eye,
The wicked on his Left to try.
An angry God their Judge must be,
A high offended Deity.
The Volume of their Sin is brought,
The Register of ev'ry Fault.
The mystick Book is strait unseal'd,
The Secrets of their Hearts reveal'd.
Those Crimes, they hop'd should ne'er be known,
To Angels, Men, and Devils shown.
Confus'd and Dumb, their Horrors shew
The faithful Record is too true.
Conscience the Worm, that ne'er shall rest,
Now preys upon their guilty Breast.
The wicked on his Left to try.
An angry God their Judge must be,
A high offended Deity.
The Volume of their Sin is brought,
The Register of ev'ry Fault.
The mystick Book is strait unseal'd,
The Secrets of their Hearts reveal'd.
Those Crimes, they hop'd should ne'er be known,
To Angels, Men, and Devils shown.
Confus'd and Dumb, their Horrors shew
The faithful Record is too true.
191
Now preys upon their guilty Breast.
Go, says the Judge, ye cursed, go
To Darkness, Flames, and boundless Woe.
With Dæmons dwell in lasting Pain,
Where unextinguish'd Fires remain.
Where, when ten thousand Years are gone,
And twenty times ten thousand done,
Your Punishments, without a Date,
Shall nor in Length nor Force abate.
To Darkness, Flames, and boundless Woe.
With Dæmons dwell in lasting Pain,
Where unextinguish'd Fires remain.
Where, when ten thousand Years are gone,
And twenty times ten thousand done,
Your Punishments, without a Date,
Shall nor in Length nor Force abate.
Alas! what Flesh has Pow'r to bear
A Sentence that is so severe!
See! how the helpless Wretches fly,
To save them from the Danger nigh;
Curse (but too late) their former Ills,
And Shelter ask from neighb'ring Hills.
To neighbouring Hills in vain they call,
To crush them by a friendly Fall.
Devils, impatient of their Prey,
Hurry the shrieking Crew away;
Down, headlong down, the Wretches tear,
To the dark Dungeons of Despair.
A Sentence that is so severe!
See! how the helpless Wretches fly,
To save them from the Danger nigh;
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And Shelter ask from neighb'ring Hills.
To neighbouring Hills in vain they call,
To crush them by a friendly Fall.
Devils, impatient of their Prey,
Hurry the shrieking Crew away;
Down, headlong down, the Wretches tear,
To the dark Dungeons of Despair.
And, now, the great Tribunal's o'er,
And Fate is fix'd for evermore.
No more the radiant Spheres shall rise,
They're vanish'd from the desart Skies.
The Earth's consum'd, and in its Place
Nothing remains but empty Space.
The Damn'd are gone to endless Night,
And all the Just to Realms of Light.
And Fate is fix'd for evermore.
No more the radiant Spheres shall rise,
They're vanish'd from the desart Skies.
The Earth's consum'd, and in its Place
Nothing remains but empty Space.
The Damn'd are gone to endless Night,
And all the Just to Realms of Light.
Poems on Several Occasions | ||