 | The Poetic Writings of Thomas Cradock, 1718-1770 |  |
2. Part the 2d
[1]
The Check
1
But why, my soul, so mournfully complain?The crime of base ingratitude beware;
Has Heav'n no mercies mingled with thy pain?
Dost thou no blessings from thy Maker share?
2
Oh yes! they're countless—hourly on my head—(For which his glorious name be still ador'd)
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Like gladning rains on thirsty pastures pour'd.
3
Various indeed his mercies—nor forget,My soul, his blest benificence to praise,
Never oh never thou'lt discharge the debt,
Tho' to his will devoted all thy days:
4
Blest in th'affection of a tender wifeWhose constant joy's my wayward heart to please;
Who seeks to smooth the rigours of my life,
And ne'er is happy, but when I have ease:
5
Blest is my children who with duteous eyeWait ev'ry motion of their father's will;
Whose infant hearts with filial simpathy,
Young as they are, their father's anguish feel:
6
Blest in the genuine friendship of the Few,Whose worthy souls, from servile meanness free,
Firmly the rigid paths of truth pursue,
And scorn the dupes of modern modes to be:
7
Blest in my country's welfare which no moreMourns battles badly fought & basely lost,
But with her fleets insults the hostile shore,
Cou'd late a Wolfe, can yet an Amherst boast:
8
Blest in my faith, which wanders not abroadAfter the wild fanatick's idle schemes,
But makes it only rule the book of GOD,
Clear from the taint of superstitution's dreams:
9
But all above, blest in the glorious hope,That, when I die, I shall not total die,
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To climb yon bright etherial worlds on high.
10
Lo! these are blessings of the noblest kind;And can I then ungratefully complain
For trifling ills?—for shame, my dastard mind,
The coward's weak unmanly moan disdain,
11
Be thy own self—thy origin respect;The ways of Heav'n, it's kind intension scan;
On what thou art design'd for, calm, reflect;
And bravely act the Christian & the Man.
2
Afflictions mercies
1
Yes; well the sacred page informs my soul,That our severest evils mercies prove;
The force of sensual passion to controul,
Inflicted on us by Almighty love.
2
I find it so; for now my humbled heartMelts with the dread of that tremendous hour,
When I from earth & all its ties must part,
And see the glories of the sun no more.
3
Now ev'ry word and ev'ry action's weigh'd;Now the minutest thought I strickly poise;
That I to him whose blood my ransome paid,
May yet present a welcome sacrifice.
4
Yet not my soul, thou of perfection boast;Alass! I feel how very frail I be;
How weak my virtue, where I struggle most
How wondrous hard, from folly to be free:
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5
That still my mind a motley-mixture shews,Where grace & passion have by turns their pow'r;
As in the mass, wherein the bullion glows,
Dull worthless earth is blended with the ore.
6
But as that ore is by the fire refin'd,Purg'd from it's dross, & render'd bright & pure;
So is my hope, that my afflicted mind
Will whiten thro' it's pains, & Heav'n secure:
7
And is it thus? and will that Heav'n be mine?By means of blest affliction shall I see
My Maker's face? kind source of bliss divine!
That thus conducts me to eternity!
8
Eternity, thou no more dreadful thought!My only prospect, and my only aim!
In pain's hard school the wholsome lesson taught,
For thee I labour, & tis thee I claim.
9
Let princes vain fantastick hopes pursueAnd wade thro' blood & carnage to a crown;
I scorn their low ambition; thou my view,
With pity on a Bourbon I look down.
3
The Resolve
1
The royal shepherd in his songs of woe,When noisome ulcers o'er his body ran,
And he no respite from his pains cou'd know,
Determin'd on his wise religious plan:
2
That if high Heav'n him to his health restor'd,His voice in hymns of gratitude he'd raise,
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And make his life one constant act of praise.
3
And shall not I, by his example led,Sweet health returning to my weaken'd frame,
Thus rescued from the confines of the dead
Adore my gracious God & bless his name:
4
Taught by his chastning, yet supporting hand,My duty and true interest to know,
The pleasant ways, the paths to peace regain'd
With the bright flame of heavenly zeal to glow?
5
Yes, O my God, thy praise I'll ever sing,Thou heard'st me in the direful hour of pain,
Didst kind relief in all my sad anguish bring,
And gav'st me to behold the sun again.
6
To thee I'll dedicate my future days;Subject my ev'ry passion to thy will;
And, while my tongue shall grateful hymn thy praise,
My soul shall joy thy precepts to fulfill.
7
The lures of pleasure & charms of senceShall cheat my now-awaken'd heart no more;
But a new Era I'll of life commence
Devoted solely to thy gracious power.
8
I stand resolv'd and thou all-clement God,Benignly these my resolutions aid,
On me be thy effectual grace bestow'd,
That I, prepar'd, may ev'ry sin evade:
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Firmly that I the ways of truth may tread,And follow close the precepts thou hast given,
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Till I have reach'd at length my destin'd Heav'n.
10
Then I'll rejoice, affliction has been mine,That I have felt thy kind correcting rod;
Thus fully prov'd the son of Love divine,
Of Thee, my Lord, my Saviour, & my God.
4
The Relapse
1
Vain empty efforts of humanity!And is it thus I've kept the solemn vow?
Thus sudden from my resolutions fly?
The wretch I was alate, the same I'm now—
2
Base dastard as I am, I quit the fieldTo boist'rous passions leave my soul the prey;
E'en at the first assault supinely yield,
A rebel, where I bound my heart t' obey.
3
Thus when the shaggy tirant of the wasteFalls on the scatter'd flocks, the caitiff-swain
Deserts his fleecy charge with all his haste,
And leave the bestial master of the plain.
4
What tho' my soul they unexpected storm'dAnd pour'd upon her with impetuous rage?
The noble resolutions she had form'd,
Had arm'd her sure their fury to assuage!
5
Fool! to forget the scared promise madeOf firm obedience to all-righteous Heav'n!
Fool! to forget, how ardently I pray'd,
To have my crimes & errors past forgiven.
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6
And can I hope his goodness will assistThe enormous wretch who thus deserts his post
Who acts just as his lordly passions list,
In the wild whirl of impious anger lost.
7
Ah no! I feel the heavy weight of sin,That if I'd conquer, I must sorely strive,
My faithful monitor forewarns, within,
Incessant contest, if with God I'd live.
8
And yet how hard!—too vainly we essayTo check our passions, in their full career;
Our poor weak hearts too suddenly given way,—
And lose their fortitude when danger's near.
9
So, in a tempest's rage, with headlong forceThe torrents, rushing from the mountains, roar.
Mounds, dams & banks in vain oppose their course,
On all around they desolate pour.
10
Delusive plea, & indolent excuse!Passions must be controul'd, if Heav'n we'd win;
The gates of mercy entrance will refuse
If we approch them, laden with our sin.
5
The Recovery
1
Delightful change! my heart again has peaceI feel my soul now to her God return;
The terrors of impenitence decrease
Again with bright celestial zeal I burn.
2
Wild passions now no more distort my frame:Their base pernicious influence is o'er;
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I bend beneath their tiranny no more.
3
Religion waits me with her lovely train;The sister virtues all around me shine.
And now, a votary to my God again,
I cease to tremble at the wrath divine.
4
Rapt into prospects of sublimest joysWhich by his blood my Saviour for me won,
E'en Pleasure's gaudy lures and gilded toys,
Firmly, I scorn, and can with horror shun.
5
How great soever their attractions prove,Let them their trophies & their conquests boast,
Thanks to me my God and his afflicting love
On me their flatt'ring, fatal charms are lost.
6
So to the wisest of the kings of Greece,As by their dangerous shore the Heroe past,
The Sirens sung; in vain—the song they cease;
They see they gain not on his guarded breast.
7
Yes, O my God, to thee with humbliest awe,With earnest love, I'll dedicate my days;
The rule of all my actions is thy law,
The sweet employment of my tongue—thy praise;
8
Thy grace conducting me, I look aboveThe narrow limits of this lower sphere,
The seats of light, the scenes of heav'nly love
My only mark for thou, O Lord, art there.
9
Sincerest thanks to thy correcting handThat led thro' pain, thro' anguish to my bliss;
Strengthen'd by thee I now collected stand,
And fix my views on endless happiness.
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6
The Prospect
1
What glorious vision breaks upon my eyes?What heav'nly prospect charms my raptur'd mind?
What wondrous beauties sudden round me rise,
As if to dissipate my doubts design'd?
2
Sure Heav'n now opens to my longing heart,And gives a prelude of those future joys,
Which it's high Monarch will to all impart,
Who strive to win the great eternal prize.
3
So to the weary swain, who travels longA miry road, the verdant plains appear,
Whose flow'ry glades & breezy groves among,
He hopes his harast, panting soul to cheer.
4
Now are forgot the labours that are o'er,His many toilsome steps in dreary ways;
A sweet continued prospect lies before,
His ravish'd sight, and tunes him all to praise.
5
O what a view of bliss? in transport lost,I can't my wonder, my surprise express?
Sure these the shining fields, that joyous coast,
Where ever blooms celestial happiness.
6
Greece, boast no more thy fond ideal plainsOh joys, Elysian, where Immortals throng—
Tis here, full in my view, that pleasure reigns
Which far exceeds the scenes thy Homer sung.
7
What rapture, O my soul! the minstrelsyOf Seraph & of Cherub strikes my ears;
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And listen to the musick of the spheres.
8
Lo! what a flood of piercing light pours downThro' the Immense, & brightens all around!
This sure th'effulgence from th'Eternal's throne
On them who're with his mighty favour crown'd.
9
I see them all—O what a countless train!Myriads & Myriads number not their bands;
Who'd tell the Blest that in these regions reign,
Might count in the extended oceans glitt'ring sands.
10
And does my God this place for me prepare?And will these heavenly pleasures all be mine?
Shall I the glories of Immortals share?
O blest benificence of love divine!
11
Strive, O my soul, with all thy efforts striveTo please that Saviour—God who to provide
These bright rewards; his precious blood did give;
His life thy pattern and his law thy guide.
| The Poetic Writings of Thomas Cradock, 1718-1770 | |