 | The Works and Rest of the Creation |  |
112
THE Rest of Creation.
SUNDAY THOUGHTS ON THE Various Parts of the Christian Sabbath, AND Its different Employments.
Ο ζηλος του οικου σου κατεφαγε με.
John ii. 17.
------ the consecrated Hour
Of Man, in Audience with the Deity.
Young.
Of Man, in Audience with the Deity.
Young.
113
SUNDAY THOUGHTS.
I. THE Morning's Meditating Walk.
PART I. On the Internal, Early, and Preparatory Duties.
114
CONTENTS.
An Introduction to the Subject. The Advantage of separating some time the Evening before a Sabbath. Address to the Dutchess of Somerset. The Appearance of the Dawn. Reflections upon rising; at walking Abroad; on the Pleasantness of the Season—on a Life of rural Retirement; a Morning Hymn on ascending a Hill, in a View of the surrounding Prospects; Reflections during a solitary Wandring in a Church-yard—observing a Rookery—sitting by a River; a Visit to a lonely Abbey, and taking shelter in its Ruins during the Violence of a Thunder-storm. Its Horrors describ'd; with some closing Reflections on our late Earthquakes—The sweet Appearances in Nature on the Calm.—Lawfulness of walking in the Fields for Meditation in the Intervals of a Lord's Day; one Part of Sabbath Duties a Remembrance of the Works of Creation; the other those of Redemption. Various Considerations and Instances of the Blessings and Privileges of the latter—upon first hearing the Bells from the different Villages—the Walk broke off; and an Application to a timely Attendance on religious Ordinances in the House of God.
115
Mute with conceal'd Distress, joy-widow'd long,
My own sad Burthen, had my tuneless Mind
Disconsolate, life wearied, dropt the Lyre;
Like the sad, pensive, wint'ry Philomel
Silenc'd from Song: By Melancholy's Gloom,
By Griefs, unyielding to the Muse's Charm.
Nor purpos'd more, nor wish'd I, e'er to wake
The once relieving String. So lost with me
Care's Cheerer, Hope, ah! that Deceiver fair!
My Spirits broke, by worst Presage imprest,
A Mind benighted, with a wasting Frame.
My own sad Burthen, had my tuneless Mind
Disconsolate, life wearied, dropt the Lyre;
Like the sad, pensive, wint'ry Philomel
Silenc'd from Song: By Melancholy's Gloom,
By Griefs, unyielding to the Muse's Charm.
Nor purpos'd more, nor wish'd I, e'er to wake
The once relieving String. So lost with me
Care's Cheerer, Hope, ah! that Deceiver fair!
116
A Mind benighted, with a wasting Frame.
Jesus! dear Name of Love! O Saviour God!
After long Absence, how divinely Sweet
Thy felt Return! like instantaneous Health,
Delightful, to a Wretch by Sickness worn,
Snatch'd back miraculous from dying Pangs.
He comes! Pain's Balm, the healing Visitor,
The sympathising Friend! Rise, languid Soul!
From thy dark, deep, dull, damp, dead Lethargy.
With kindled Zeal resume, with fresh-felt Love,
Thy wonted Labour; not (perhaps) my least,
If heavenly Goodness please the Strain divine,
To dictate, and assist her kindred Theme.
After long Absence, how divinely Sweet
Thy felt Return! like instantaneous Health,
Delightful, to a Wretch by Sickness worn,
Snatch'd back miraculous from dying Pangs.
He comes! Pain's Balm, the healing Visitor,
The sympathising Friend! Rise, languid Soul!
From thy dark, deep, dull, damp, dead Lethargy.
With kindled Zeal resume, with fresh-felt Love,
Thy wonted Labour; not (perhaps) my least,
If heavenly Goodness please the Strain divine,
To dictate, and assist her kindred Theme.
Six days has Man in duteous Toil employ'd:
His Sum assign'd. And now the Eve appears,
Prelude to sweetest Hours of holier Rest;
Kind Respite, in the round of Weekly Time,
For travell'd Dust to call its Labourer home
The Partner Mind; to steal her from the Throng
Of loud Intruders, charg'd with worldly Schemes;
And strike a partial Truce with mortal Care.
To cleanse her Soils, adjust her decent Dress,
And mould her, in Composure fit, to wait
Her Call; when she, on Audience, soon shall meet
In his full Court, the universal King.
The Chamber, for the milder Presence, fix'd
Of condescending Deity. So went
Th' obedient Sire his dear, devoted Son
Consorting, up th' appointed Mount of God,
And, inly tended, with Exclusion mete,
At distance, left below his servile Train.
His Sum assign'd. And now the Eve appears,
Prelude to sweetest Hours of holier Rest;
Kind Respite, in the round of Weekly Time,
For travell'd Dust to call its Labourer home
The Partner Mind; to steal her from the Throng
Of loud Intruders, charg'd with worldly Schemes;
And strike a partial Truce with mortal Care.
To cleanse her Soils, adjust her decent Dress,
And mould her, in Composure fit, to wait
Her Call; when she, on Audience, soon shall meet
In his full Court, the universal King.
117
Of condescending Deity. So went
Th' obedient Sire his dear, devoted Son
Consorting, up th' appointed Mount of God,
And, inly tended, with Exclusion mete,
At distance, left below his servile Train.
I sing to matchless Somerset: where'er
The Changes lead me of this sacred Theme
(Truths Evangelical tho' plainly phras'd)
Her's is the Song. Her shining Pattern view;
Mark it ye Great! from her aspire to gain
By Goodness Love, true Dignity from Sense,
And Exaltation by Humility:
Blest Gifts, the Crown of Piety and Faith.
Her's is the Song; auspicious prove it's Art!
As She, mild Excellence! auspicious proves.
The Changes lead me of this sacred Theme
(Truths Evangelical tho' plainly phras'd)
Her's is the Song. Her shining Pattern view;
Mark it ye Great! from her aspire to gain
By Goodness Love, true Dignity from Sense,
And Exaltation by Humility:
Blest Gifts, the Crown of Piety and Faith.
Her's is the Song; auspicious prove it's Art!
As She, mild Excellence! auspicious proves.
See! Night has thinn'd her Shades. The watchful Bird
Days warning Centinel, with Crowings loud
Gives Signal. O! like weeping Peter touch'd!
Duly let me, affecting Monitor!
Thy Summons hear. Thus woke th' illustrious Greek
Rous'd, ev'ry Morn, by a shrill Herald's Cry,
“King! thou art mortal.” Moral Voice, how harsh
In Courtly Roofs!—But mark! the meek-ey'd Dawn!
Lights youngest Daughter, drest in Vesture pale,
With sweet, cool Breath, descends from odorous Skies!
The Sabbath Dawn, first of the Week, and best,
“Up Sleeper! from thy Bed. At earlier Hour
“From sadder Bed, for Thee thy Saviour rose!”
By Memory warn'd, at the lov'd Name I wake.
At the known, reverenc'd Voice devoutly wake;
I wake with God: last in my Thoughts and first
By Night and Morn. My Guardian of the Night,
My Guide by Day. Ah! what is lightless Day
Without thy Light? Ah! what is lifeless Life
Without thy dear Vitality? As Flow'rs,
Weeping in wat'ry Dews, their Faces bend
To their all-cheering Parent's genial Ray
The fost'ring Sun, so turns my Soul to feel
Her quick'ning Father. In thy Arms of Love
Safe have I slept; thy Arms of Love alone
Can safe-uphold me waking. Led by thee
My Footsteps now I trust in open Skies;
In sacred Meditation rapt; to taste
The fresh, prime Fragrance of returning Light:
While thy soft Daughter, Summer's Virgin-Nymph,
The bloomy May, deck'd amorous by thy Hand,
Courts, sweet, the lonely-roving Walker's Eye;
Chaste-wooing ev'ry Sense, by ev'ry Charm.
Days warning Centinel, with Crowings loud
Gives Signal. O! like weeping Peter touch'd!
Duly let me, affecting Monitor!
Thy Summons hear. Thus woke th' illustrious Greek
Rous'd, ev'ry Morn, by a shrill Herald's Cry,
118
In Courtly Roofs!—But mark! the meek-ey'd Dawn!
Lights youngest Daughter, drest in Vesture pale,
With sweet, cool Breath, descends from odorous Skies!
The Sabbath Dawn, first of the Week, and best,
“Up Sleeper! from thy Bed. At earlier Hour
“From sadder Bed, for Thee thy Saviour rose!”
By Memory warn'd, at the lov'd Name I wake.
At the known, reverenc'd Voice devoutly wake;
I wake with God: last in my Thoughts and first
By Night and Morn. My Guardian of the Night,
My Guide by Day. Ah! what is lightless Day
Without thy Light? Ah! what is lifeless Life
Without thy dear Vitality? As Flow'rs,
Weeping in wat'ry Dews, their Faces bend
To their all-cheering Parent's genial Ray
The fost'ring Sun, so turns my Soul to feel
Her quick'ning Father. In thy Arms of Love
Safe have I slept; thy Arms of Love alone
Can safe-uphold me waking. Led by thee
My Footsteps now I trust in open Skies;
In sacred Meditation rapt; to taste
The fresh, prime Fragrance of returning Light:
While thy soft Daughter, Summer's Virgin-Nymph,
The bloomy May, deck'd amorous by thy Hand,
119
Chaste-wooing ev'ry Sense, by ev'ry Charm.
Retirement! thou celestial Solacer!
The Care-tost Voyager's dear, welcome Bay,
Faint with the beating Storm of adverse Life.
Lot, most desir'd! most happy!—O with me
Muse, Genius, Fame, Ambition, Av'rice, Wealth,
My little, amplest whole of earthly Good!
For thee I long have sigh'd—but sigh in vain!
Sole woo'd, yet unconsenting to my Joy.
Yet cease I not by Dawn, or Evening-Hour
Thy lov'd Recess (tho' hopeless) still to haunt,
And vent my secret Moan; by dewy Mead,
Dark Cave, or vocal Stream, or Moon-light Grove.
Like some poor exil'd Lover, who by Stealth
Watches, when he his solitary Walk
Can take; in desperation to complain.
All that below (of calm, of good and pure,
Of bland, or rational, devout, or sweet,)
Is found in Wisdom's School, to train, mature,
And lift sublime the Heart, inhabit here.
Here shines the Hero, here true Greatness lives,
Lives on its own, nor needs to ask Without
Hard penury) Loans, from mean, dependant Joys.
Leagued with the high-born Genii there, meek Peace,
Fair Child of Virtue, and her Sister-Grace
Divine Contentment; with her Little blest:
The Dower bestow'd on patient Poverty.
Happiest Abstraction from the tempting World!
Not monkish, slothful, sullen, and austere;
The Palmer's Penance, and the Hermit's Cell,
The false-religious Bedlam's Beads and Straw.
No Couch for Indolence to hatch her Dream:
But to repose for Action; to purge off
Rank Envy's Gall, the lep'rous Spot of Pride,
Dropsied Ambition, Pleasure's feav'rish Heats,
The Soul's consumptive Thirst of earthly Bliss,
And her ill Habits by Example fix'd.
Where led in awful Visits to herself,
Internal Intimacies charm the Heart.
The Home-brought Stranger entertain'd and pleas'd
Feasts with her kindred Pow'rs, and happier grows,
Acquainted with the Family within.
And from her Centre thro' wide Duty's sphere
(Of sacred and of social) looking round,
Notes her high Birth; and nobler walks Abroad,
In Acts of Faith, Benevolence, and Love,
With Rank superior, in the moral World.
The Care-tost Voyager's dear, welcome Bay,
Faint with the beating Storm of adverse Life.
Lot, most desir'd! most happy!—O with me
Muse, Genius, Fame, Ambition, Av'rice, Wealth,
My little, amplest whole of earthly Good!
For thee I long have sigh'd—but sigh in vain!
Sole woo'd, yet unconsenting to my Joy.
Yet cease I not by Dawn, or Evening-Hour
Thy lov'd Recess (tho' hopeless) still to haunt,
And vent my secret Moan; by dewy Mead,
Dark Cave, or vocal Stream, or Moon-light Grove.
Like some poor exil'd Lover, who by Stealth
Watches, when he his solitary Walk
Can take; in desperation to complain.
All that below (of calm, of good and pure,
Of bland, or rational, devout, or sweet,)
Is found in Wisdom's School, to train, mature,
And lift sublime the Heart, inhabit here.
Here shines the Hero, here true Greatness lives,
Lives on its own, nor needs to ask Without
Hard penury) Loans, from mean, dependant Joys.
Leagued with the high-born Genii there, meek Peace,
Fair Child of Virtue, and her Sister-Grace
Divine Contentment; with her Little blest:
120
Happiest Abstraction from the tempting World!
Not monkish, slothful, sullen, and austere;
The Palmer's Penance, and the Hermit's Cell,
The false-religious Bedlam's Beads and Straw.
No Couch for Indolence to hatch her Dream:
But to repose for Action; to purge off
Rank Envy's Gall, the lep'rous Spot of Pride,
Dropsied Ambition, Pleasure's feav'rish Heats,
The Soul's consumptive Thirst of earthly Bliss,
And her ill Habits by Example fix'd.
Where led in awful Visits to herself,
Internal Intimacies charm the Heart.
The Home-brought Stranger entertain'd and pleas'd
Feasts with her kindred Pow'rs, and happier grows,
Acquainted with the Family within.
And from her Centre thro' wide Duty's sphere
(Of sacred and of social) looking round,
Notes her high Birth; and nobler walks Abroad,
In Acts of Faith, Benevolence, and Love,
With Rank superior, in the moral World.
Hail silent Fields! with your Inhabitant
Blest Contemplation! friendly to the Muse.
Yet grateful Interruption may ye here
By Change admit; of Flocks that bleating feed,
And Herds deep lowing, and the Musick shrill,
Heard round me, of the Insect's buzzing Wing,
And, loud, of early Birds the vary'd Charm.
These praise their Maker all, and lift in praise
The pious Heart, to join in Nature's Prayer.
Nor Things of Voice alone, each humid Flow'r
It's Incense breathes to Thee! each dewy Plant
And grassy Spire, thick-strung with native Pearl!
Almighty Father! Flocks, and Herds, and Birds
Insects and Flowers, and Plants, all Nature's Births,
All praise thy Goodness, all—but thankless Man!
Man, most ungrateful! most obliged! of all.
Blest Contemplation! friendly to the Muse.
Yet grateful Interruption may ye here
By Change admit; of Flocks that bleating feed,
And Herds deep lowing, and the Musick shrill,
Heard round me, of the Insect's buzzing Wing,
121
These praise their Maker all, and lift in praise
The pious Heart, to join in Nature's Prayer.
Nor Things of Voice alone, each humid Flow'r
It's Incense breathes to Thee! each dewy Plant
And grassy Spire, thick-strung with native Pearl!
Almighty Father! Flocks, and Herds, and Birds
Insects and Flowers, and Plants, all Nature's Births,
All praise thy Goodness, all—but thankless Man!
Man, most ungrateful! most obliged! of all.
But see! in mild, resplendent Majesty,
See! where ascending, the bright Lord of Day
(His Forehead hung with Locks of curling Gold)
Smiles from his eastern Throne; dispelling fast
Th' invading Mists, that with distemper'd Shade
Hang on Night's dusky Rear, and hide from view
Surrounding Prospects fair: of Flowret Meads
And Wood-clad Hills, with Villa's intermix'd
Of antient Aspect; fram'd for rural Peace,
Delightful Residence! and verdant Groves
Of Structure tall, and silver-skirting Streams,
Winding thro' Vales in Flora's Wardrobes drest,
Or rich in stately Grain; whose loaded Plumes
Dance proudly on the Breeze; and like a Sea
Roll, far, the sounding vegetable Wave.
And, all beyond, the Mountain-Heights appear,
By distance blue; that lose themselves in Sky.
See! where ascending, the bright Lord of Day
(His Forehead hung with Locks of curling Gold)
Smiles from his eastern Throne; dispelling fast
Th' invading Mists, that with distemper'd Shade
Hang on Night's dusky Rear, and hide from view
Surrounding Prospects fair: of Flowret Meads
And Wood-clad Hills, with Villa's intermix'd
Of antient Aspect; fram'd for rural Peace,
Delightful Residence! and verdant Groves
Of Structure tall, and silver-skirting Streams,
Winding thro' Vales in Flora's Wardrobes drest,
Or rich in stately Grain; whose loaded Plumes
Dance proudly on the Breeze; and like a Sea
Roll, far, the sounding vegetable Wave.
And, all beyond, the Mountain-Heights appear,
By distance blue; that lose themselves in Sky.
122
How chang'd a Prospect! from the Scene of late,
When Darkness, Emblem of still Nature's Grave,
Had clos'd her in a temporary Death;
Annihilating Colours, Sense, and Forms.
On ev'ry Lid had shed her Poppy Dews,
And round Creation's silent Bed had drawn
Her sable Curtains, of Nocturnal Gloom.
Thus looks the Convert (late in Bondage lock'd
Of legal Terrors: a tremendous Night,)
Thus chang'd! when on his sad, tenebrious Soul
Jesus, the Day-Star, from above, shall rise
With healing Balm beneath his radiant Wings;
Jesus, of Righteousness, that brighter Sun!
When Darkness, Emblem of still Nature's Grave,
Had clos'd her in a temporary Death;
Annihilating Colours, Sense, and Forms.
On ev'ry Lid had shed her Poppy Dews,
And round Creation's silent Bed had drawn
Her sable Curtains, of Nocturnal Gloom.
Thus looks the Convert (late in Bondage lock'd
Of legal Terrors: a tremendous Night,)
Thus chang'd! when on his sad, tenebrious Soul
Jesus, the Day-Star, from above, shall rise
With healing Balm beneath his radiant Wings;
Jesus, of Righteousness, that brighter Sun!
Is Light so grateful to the human Sense?
Created Light? a faint, refracted Ray?
One, distant Sun? the Shadow, but, of God!
Dark Adumbration of the Deity?
O! what is Heav'n! that Day of endless Light?
Where Saints shall from th' essential Fountain drink
Of Radiance! in God's full, Paternal shine?
Ah! what is Hell? of ever-absent Day
A Night, all hopeless!—and all endless too!
Created Light? a faint, refracted Ray?
One, distant Sun? the Shadow, but, of God!
Dark Adumbration of the Deity?
O! what is Heav'n! that Day of endless Light?
Where Saints shall from th' essential Fountain drink
Of Radiance! in God's full, Paternal shine?
Ah! what is Hell? of ever-absent Day
A Night, all hopeless!—and all endless too!
Welcome bright Influence! kindest Gift of HIM
Who bid thy Orb of Splendours pour on Earth
Life, Health, and Joy! thy warm, thy friendly Ray
How grateful! while the vapour-weeping Mead
Reeks with chill Mist, an incommodious Track
For the rash Trav'ller yet, whose weltring Feet
Brush from the plaishy Blades the Tears of Morn.
Here let me wander, where, in Fragrance full
Or rosy Light, this more inviting Hill
Drinks, on his sloping Side, the franker Beam.
With pace relax'd the steep Ascent I gain;
But gain with Toil—how like the Christian's Path:
A sweetly-pleasing, yet laborious Way—
And now, how vast a Landskip, kenn'd from hence
Breaks on my wilder'd Eye! in roving lost.
From Field, Farm, Village, Park, Dale, Stream and Grove!
Gay, Primrose Lawns, flaming in vernal Gold,
Or Daisie-interlaid, of checquer'd Hues:
With Herds and Flocks, wide-feeding round at will.
And Woods Night-brown; where ever and anon
Some opening Glade I meet, with ranging Troops
Of timorous Deer; viewed here, and there, between.
And here, and there, a Branch of some fair Stream
Silv'ring the Vale; and, over all, the Tops
Of sacred Spires, that tow'r in antient State,
I catch, at distant Glance; a solemn Sight!
Beyond them Thames, her Ocean-hast'ning Flood
Throws widely open to the Beam of Heav'n.
Her Bosom white with proudly-swelling Sails,
That bear her Home the Treasures of the World:
Spread, a full Breadth, to gather all the Winds,
By the glad Crews, revisiting her Shores.
Whose Spirits dance, with Expectation warm,
Parents, or Friends, in Transport soon to greet,
Consorts, or Children; after absence long.
And farther on, in Smallness almost lost
Augusta, seen in soft'ning Miniature,
O'er a profusive Longitude of Plains,
Her hundred Temples rears: Like Needle-Points
Uprising slender in th' enbrighten'd Air.
Where, in the midst, the Work of Wren , displays
It's graceful Dome; and to the West, just spy'd,
The Gothic Abbey: Where sepulcher'd, sleeps
(Thro' a long Race) the Dust of Albion's Kings.
Around I gaze—around—by Raptures tir'd
Yet never full—some Object new, and fair,
Some fresh-presented Charm, where'er I turn,
The Scene expands—and still expands the Scene,
With Prospects ever fair, and ever new.
But all is seen Below, a Picture spread
Beneath my Feet, with nought above but Skies.
—So looks the Saint (so ever shou'd he look)
On earthly Glories, with his Brow in Heav'n.
Hail! Beauties, pencil'd by Omnipotence!
Hail! Nature's Concert, pleasing to an Ear
In wonder list'ning, to the silent Hymn
Ideal heard! sung inward to the Soul
From Forms harmonious, this mute Quire of God!
Like the feign'd, mystic Musick of the Spheres
Unheard, unheeded by Sense-grov'ling Minds.
See too! responsive, with her holiest Strains,
The Muse awakes; while now the mounting Lark
From his green Pallat rous'd, yields lavish Song:
Inviting of my Lay, symphonious tun'd,
That calls Attention from his sylvan Bower.
—Maker of all Things fair! of all Things good!
That now, by gross, or mental Sight beheld,
Claim Adoration high! thy Power I own!
Lib'ral! profuse! benign! confess'd by Knees
Thus prostrate bent in Dust; and Hands, and Eyes
Turn'd tow'rd thy Throne, in Praise, and kindled Love!
O what a Builder! what a Father! here
His House has furnished, with unsparing cost,
For Man his Creature; his unworthiest Son!
For Me of vilest Prodigals most vile!
Praise Him! my God, your Maker! praise my King
Ye Seasons! that in sweet vicissitude
Roll on, of grateful Change: Fresh, vernal Fields
That now his Liveries wear of youthful Green!
Summer, his fragrant First-born! loveliest deck'd
Of all thy Sister-Train; in softest Robes
Of Twilights, glistring with pellucid Gold,
Thy cheerful Night-Attire; perfum'd in Sweets
Of various Flowers: And serv'd in daily State
By free-attendant Suns, and waiting Gales!
Thou Autumn too! more ripe; in Matron-Charms,
Of harvest-Fruits; thy Offspring, large and fair;
And hoary Winter! in thy sable Stole
Of Storm and Clouds, with ermine Cincture tipp'd
Of Mountain Snows! when freezing Vapours pale
On the dimm'd Windows dress their mimick Forms:
And with rude Bracelets, on the Cob-web'd Wall
Pearl the coarse Arrass of Arachne's Loom.
From a full Chorus of the quarter'd Year,
Praise Him! my God, your Maker! praise my King!—
—In your alternate Courses, Eve, or Morn,
Be witness! if ingrateful, I forget
His wondrous Goodness; or, my Hymn, his praise.
Maker of all Things fair! of all Things good!
Thine is the Heaven , the Heaven of Heavens is thine.
With their innumerous Host! but the broad Earth,
Work of thy Love, has thy rich Bounty giv'n,
A large Possession, to the Sons of Men!
Who bid thy Orb of Splendours pour on Earth
Life, Health, and Joy! thy warm, thy friendly Ray
123
Reeks with chill Mist, an incommodious Track
For the rash Trav'ller yet, whose weltring Feet
Brush from the plaishy Blades the Tears of Morn.
Here let me wander, where, in Fragrance full
Or rosy Light, this more inviting Hill
Drinks, on his sloping Side, the franker Beam.
With pace relax'd the steep Ascent I gain;
But gain with Toil—how like the Christian's Path:
A sweetly-pleasing, yet laborious Way—
And now, how vast a Landskip, kenn'd from hence
Breaks on my wilder'd Eye! in roving lost.
From Field, Farm, Village, Park, Dale, Stream and Grove!
Gay, Primrose Lawns, flaming in vernal Gold,
Or Daisie-interlaid, of checquer'd Hues:
With Herds and Flocks, wide-feeding round at will.
And Woods Night-brown; where ever and anon
Some opening Glade I meet, with ranging Troops
Of timorous Deer; viewed here, and there, between.
And here, and there, a Branch of some fair Stream
Silv'ring the Vale; and, over all, the Tops
Of sacred Spires, that tow'r in antient State,
I catch, at distant Glance; a solemn Sight!
Beyond them Thames, her Ocean-hast'ning Flood
Throws widely open to the Beam of Heav'n.
Her Bosom white with proudly-swelling Sails,
That bear her Home the Treasures of the World:
124
By the glad Crews, revisiting her Shores.
Whose Spirits dance, with Expectation warm,
Parents, or Friends, in Transport soon to greet,
Consorts, or Children; after absence long.
And farther on, in Smallness almost lost
Augusta, seen in soft'ning Miniature,
O'er a profusive Longitude of Plains,
Her hundred Temples rears: Like Needle-Points
Uprising slender in th' enbrighten'd Air.
Where, in the midst, the Work of Wren , displays
It's graceful Dome; and to the West, just spy'd,
The Gothic Abbey: Where sepulcher'd, sleeps
(Thro' a long Race) the Dust of Albion's Kings.
Around I gaze—around—by Raptures tir'd
Yet never full—some Object new, and fair,
Some fresh-presented Charm, where'er I turn,
The Scene expands—and still expands the Scene,
With Prospects ever fair, and ever new.
But all is seen Below, a Picture spread
Beneath my Feet, with nought above but Skies.
—So looks the Saint (so ever shou'd he look)
On earthly Glories, with his Brow in Heav'n.
Hail! Beauties, pencil'd by Omnipotence!
Hail! Nature's Concert, pleasing to an Ear
In wonder list'ning, to the silent Hymn
Ideal heard! sung inward to the Soul
125
Like the feign'd, mystic Musick of the Spheres
Unheard, unheeded by Sense-grov'ling Minds.
See too! responsive, with her holiest Strains,
The Muse awakes; while now the mounting Lark
From his green Pallat rous'd, yields lavish Song:
Inviting of my Lay, symphonious tun'd,
That calls Attention from his sylvan Bower.
—Maker of all Things fair! of all Things good!
That now, by gross, or mental Sight beheld,
Claim Adoration high! thy Power I own!
Lib'ral! profuse! benign! confess'd by Knees
Thus prostrate bent in Dust; and Hands, and Eyes
Turn'd tow'rd thy Throne, in Praise, and kindled Love!
O what a Builder! what a Father! here
His House has furnished, with unsparing cost,
For Man his Creature; his unworthiest Son!
For Me of vilest Prodigals most vile!
Praise Him! my God, your Maker! praise my King
Ye Seasons! that in sweet vicissitude
Roll on, of grateful Change: Fresh, vernal Fields
That now his Liveries wear of youthful Green!
Summer, his fragrant First-born! loveliest deck'd
Of all thy Sister-Train; in softest Robes
Of Twilights, glistring with pellucid Gold,
Thy cheerful Night-Attire; perfum'd in Sweets
126
By free-attendant Suns, and waiting Gales!
Thou Autumn too! more ripe; in Matron-Charms,
Of harvest-Fruits; thy Offspring, large and fair;
And hoary Winter! in thy sable Stole
Of Storm and Clouds, with ermine Cincture tipp'd
Of Mountain Snows! when freezing Vapours pale
On the dimm'd Windows dress their mimick Forms:
And with rude Bracelets, on the Cob-web'd Wall
Pearl the coarse Arrass of Arachne's Loom.
From a full Chorus of the quarter'd Year,
Praise Him! my God, your Maker! praise my King!—
—In your alternate Courses, Eve, or Morn,
Be witness! if ingrateful, I forget
His wondrous Goodness; or, my Hymn, his praise.
Maker of all Things fair! of all Things good!
Thine is the Heaven , the Heaven of Heavens is thine.
With their innumerous Host! but the broad Earth,
Work of thy Love, has thy rich Bounty giv'n,
A large Possession, to the Sons of Men!
Strange Bliss has tranc'd me! an extatic Calm!
Serv'd, by Devotion, at this Feast of Sense,
My Pulse of Joy beats high—Led on the while,
In the warm Ardours of Seraphick Zeal,
My filial reverent Thoughts still search for Thee
Their dear, dear God: as of the Subject, sweet,
My Meditation takes her pleasing fill.
Where is my Father? where my Maker? view'd
In all his Works, conspicuous, free and kind?
All view'd? all near? all present?—yet unseen!
Where is my God? the wish-impassion'd Mind
Has wondrous Power, from farthest-severing Space
It's Object to invoke; and, as with Charm
Of Magic Spell, make present. Loud my Tongue
Repeats a Lesson which, with Solace blest,
Was wont to chear me, in my loneliest Walks:
When far from every Ear (my list'ning Heart
By utter'd Sounds more deeply to impress)
Frequent was us'd, in Accents audible
My Voice, its lov'd Soliloquy to breathe.
Serv'd, by Devotion, at this Feast of Sense,
My Pulse of Joy beats high—Led on the while,
In the warm Ardours of Seraphick Zeal,
127
Their dear, dear God: as of the Subject, sweet,
My Meditation takes her pleasing fill.
Where is my Father? where my Maker? view'd
In all his Works, conspicuous, free and kind?
All view'd? all near? all present?—yet unseen!
Where is my God? the wish-impassion'd Mind
Has wondrous Power, from farthest-severing Space
It's Object to invoke; and, as with Charm
Of Magic Spell, make present. Loud my Tongue
Repeats a Lesson which, with Solace blest,
Was wont to chear me, in my loneliest Walks:
When far from every Ear (my list'ning Heart
By utter'd Sounds more deeply to impress)
Frequent was us'd, in Accents audible
My Voice, its lov'd Soliloquy to breathe.
128
The Prospects cease. For from yon Summit now
Insensibly, in wistless Pond'rings! brought
The Scenes that charm'd me, late, are view'd no more.
How like the Christian still! who ne'er can climb
Th' extatic Mount, but soon he treads the Vale
Of deep Humiliation—Lo! my Feet,
At unawares, a rural, still Church-yard
Have enter'd; dark with Elm and Funeral Yew,
Scarce ever, but on Holy Festivals
Frequented; far from ev'ry public Path:
Of Situation loneliest, and obscure.
Dread Seat of Death! A Theme which lately Thou
Hervey, lov'd Friend! fam'd, sacred Meditant!
Hast touch'd so well. Yet useful Lores, tho' less,
My humble Genius, haply, may attempt
For moral Ears; not noted in thy Plan.
Insensibly, in wistless Pond'rings! brought
129
How like the Christian still! who ne'er can climb
Th' extatic Mount, but soon he treads the Vale
130
At unawares, a rural, still Church-yard
131
Scarce ever, but on Holy Festivals
Frequented; far from ev'ry public Path:
Of Situation loneliest, and obscure.
Dread Seat of Death! A Theme which lately Thou
Hervey, lov'd Friend! fam'd, sacred Meditant!
Hast touch'd so well. Yet useful Lores, tho' less,
My humble Genius, haply, may attempt
For moral Ears; not noted in thy Plan.
See! this large antique Pile! how reverend Grey
In hoary Age, it's Walls! and mouldring Tower!
With tufted Moss and Ivy rudely hung.
From whose high Turrets, now by Years decay'd,
Five times, struck deep and slow, the solemn Bell
Resounding hoarse, has told the Hour of Morn.
These lonesome Walks, of thick, uncouthest Shade,
Thro' lengths of Century's past, by turns have clos'd
Each Race of Tenants, in the Village round:
The wasted Spoils of old Mortality.
How wondrous! when the awful Trump of Doom
Heard thro' Earth's Realms and Hell, shall start, recloath'd,
(Swift as the Motion of the twinkled Eye)
Each Form, now chaos'd in this mingled Mass;
Mark'd in these Ranks of Graves, and cloystring Tombs.
One common Chamber, kept for fellow Dust.
None deferenc'd there: dead! in the Pomp of State!
State! state in Death! O Mockry too severe
For my worst Foe! deep Proof of Pride in Man!
In hoary Age, it's Walls! and mouldring Tower!
With tufted Moss and Ivy rudely hung.
From whose high Turrets, now by Years decay'd,
Five times, struck deep and slow, the solemn Bell
Resounding hoarse, has told the Hour of Morn.
These lonesome Walks, of thick, uncouthest Shade,
Thro' lengths of Century's past, by turns have clos'd
Each Race of Tenants, in the Village round:
132
How wondrous! when the awful Trump of Doom
Heard thro' Earth's Realms and Hell, shall start, recloath'd,
(Swift as the Motion of the twinkled Eye)
Each Form, now chaos'd in this mingled Mass;
Mark'd in these Ranks of Graves, and cloystring Tombs.
One common Chamber, kept for fellow Dust.
None deferenc'd there: dead! in the Pomp of State!
State! state in Death! O Mockry too severe
For my worst Foe! deep Proof of Pride in Man!
How many, without least Memorial left
Of whom, or what they were, in this cold Bed
Mix in Oblivion, with coeval Clay?
Borne like light Bubbles down the Tide of Time;
Or Leaves, which Autumn sheds; dispers'd, and lost.
Some seek a frail Remembrance, on their Graves:
Surviving in a Monumental Life.
Alas, how vainly! these brief Registers
Scarce more, at best, than barely this relate
That once—“a private Name, to Most unknown,
“Lived, a short, usual Sum of common Years
“With Man—and then—with Man, in common— dy'd.”
Meer Folly weak, and Ostentation, poor,
Of Self Esteem. Yet striking in its Use,
And Doctrinal; that anxious, general Wish
Of proud immortal Fame, in mortal Man,
Proves, to Man's self, his Immortality.
—But who? what Worthy? by Inscription large
On this fair Obelisk, with Trophies hung,
Asks reverence, from th' admiring Passenger?
High, is the Praise bestowed; if haply due.
“The fam'd—Benevolent—the strictly Good—
“The perfect Christian”—who demands the Palm
This Worth confers, of Panegyrick full?
—Oh!—turn thy Eyes away, nor view the Name!
Of foulest Grain! detestable in Death!
Where Virtues shine not, signal, in the Life;
View'd in Example, in their Influence felt,
'Tis basest Adulation paid to Dust!
'Tis branding the dead Convict in the Front!
'Tis loud Reproach, 'tis studied Infamy!
Abortive Boast! not all the Gloze on Tombs
Can saint a Chartres, or make just a Wilde.
Of whom, or what they were, in this cold Bed
Mix in Oblivion, with coeval Clay?
Borne like light Bubbles down the Tide of Time;
Or Leaves, which Autumn sheds; dispers'd, and lost.
Some seek a frail Remembrance, on their Graves:
Surviving in a Monumental Life.
Alas, how vainly! these brief Registers
Scarce more, at best, than barely this relate
That once—“a private Name, to Most unknown,
“Lived, a short, usual Sum of common Years
“With Man—and then—with Man, in common— dy'd.”
Meer Folly weak, and Ostentation, poor,
Of Self Esteem. Yet striking in its Use,
133
Of proud immortal Fame, in mortal Man,
Proves, to Man's self, his Immortality.
—But who? what Worthy? by Inscription large
On this fair Obelisk, with Trophies hung,
Asks reverence, from th' admiring Passenger?
High, is the Praise bestowed; if haply due.
“The fam'd—Benevolent—the strictly Good—
“The perfect Christian”—who demands the Palm
This Worth confers, of Panegyrick full?
—Oh!—turn thy Eyes away, nor view the Name!
Of foulest Grain! detestable in Death!
Where Virtues shine not, signal, in the Life;
View'd in Example, in their Influence felt,
'Tis basest Adulation paid to Dust!
'Tis branding the dead Convict in the Front!
'Tis loud Reproach, 'tis studied Infamy!
Abortive Boast! not all the Gloze on Tombs
Can saint a Chartres, or make just a Wilde.
Who? meanly lodg'd, beneath sepulchral Fence
Of native Fir and homely Workmanship,
This Tenure claims? with cross-resembled Bones,
And weeping Angels, painted on the Wood?
“Four lovely Babes,—with their dead Mother, snatch'd
“By hasty Fate in Childbed's dolorous Pangs.”
Ah! happy Mother! happy Family!—
—Yet must I weep—some few, some humane Drops.
In pity—to a Father's, Husband's loss!—
Your Number, (with the Circumstance) recal
My own sad Loss, still felt!—some Tears I weep,
Yet are they Tears of Joy.—Safe prove thy Rest
Fair, Parent-Shade! and ye, blest Innocents!
Ah! sweetly sleep. Your heavenly Sire of such
Elects his Kingdom. That bright Multitude
On the new Sion view'd by raptur'd John
In holy Vision ; in whose blameless Mouths
(Acknowledg'd without Fault) was found no Guile.
Emanuel's Purchase, the first Fruits from Earth
Redeem'd to God, his choicest Virgin Train.
—Rich Consolation, in few Words express'd,
(At the coarse Foot of this plain Tablet wrote)
This Motto gives; “Not lost, but gone Before. .”
Of native Fir and homely Workmanship,
This Tenure claims? with cross-resembled Bones,
And weeping Angels, painted on the Wood?
“Four lovely Babes,—with their dead Mother, snatch'd
“By hasty Fate in Childbed's dolorous Pangs.”
Ah! happy Mother! happy Family!—
—Yet must I weep—some few, some humane Drops.
134
Your Number, (with the Circumstance) recal
My own sad Loss, still felt!—some Tears I weep,
Yet are they Tears of Joy.—Safe prove thy Rest
Fair, Parent-Shade! and ye, blest Innocents!
Ah! sweetly sleep. Your heavenly Sire of such
Elects his Kingdom. That bright Multitude
On the new Sion view'd by raptur'd John
In holy Vision ; in whose blameless Mouths
(Acknowledg'd without Fault) was found no Guile.
Emanuel's Purchase, the first Fruits from Earth
Redeem'd to God, his choicest Virgin Train.
—Rich Consolation, in few Words express'd,
(At the coarse Foot of this plain Tablet wrote)
This Motto gives; “Not lost, but gone Before. .”
135
What Fragments of insculptur'd Marble these?
Thus scatter'd? thus in Heaps neglected cast?
The lordly Ruins of oblivious Time?
What do I read!—come here! come here! and learn,
Imperious Pride! what says th' insidious Stone?
“Here lies the noble.”—Here? hah! where? where lies?
Show, if thou canst? where rests th' illustrious Peer?
—Behold! behold him! from his Bed of State,
His sack'd Mausoleum, dragg'd, disturb'd, and thrown.
Mix'd with each Puddle, whirl'd by every Gale,
Or, undistinguish'd from Plebean Dirt,
Spurn'd unconcernedly, by each Peasant's Heel.
O madness of Ambition! vain, vain hope
Of Honours, meerly gain'd from Names, or Blood!
Unstable Structures, not by Merit rear'd
On Virtue's Basis: durable alone.
Thus scatter'd? thus in Heaps neglected cast?
The lordly Ruins of oblivious Time?
What do I read!—come here! come here! and learn,
Imperious Pride! what says th' insidious Stone?
“Here lies the noble.”—Here? hah! where? where lies?
Show, if thou canst? where rests th' illustrious Peer?
—Behold! behold him! from his Bed of State,
His sack'd Mausoleum, dragg'd, disturb'd, and thrown.
Mix'd with each Puddle, whirl'd by every Gale,
Or, undistinguish'd from Plebean Dirt,
Spurn'd unconcernedly, by each Peasant's Heel.
O madness of Ambition! vain, vain hope
Of Honours, meerly gain'd from Names, or Blood!
Unstable Structures, not by Merit rear'd
On Virtue's Basis: durable alone.
Yet—where is he? what more than Parian Bust,
Labour'd with costliest Art, directs my Eye
To find the Man, the Man? Ah rather sure
The Angel in that Form! who late below,
Thro' long Eclipse of gloomiest Poverty,
Look'd, yet, so lovely from his suffering Sphere.
His life, a Soil where ev'ry heavenly Grace
In their full Clusters grew. Zeal, warm while meek
By Charity: A Piety most rais'd
Yet, an Humility most deep abas'd:
Most Patience in worst want: The worthiest, best,
Of Christians be, of Fathers, Husbands, Friends.
—My Feet have trac'd him out, I recollect
The once-known Spot—and liest thou, liest thou here?
In this poor Shrine, obscure, of Filth and Weeds!
Worthy in noblest Pyramid to rest
Of Brass or Gold: whom, claim'd in Skies anon,
Bright hov'ring Seraphs shall with Songs attend.
—Wait!—sweetly rested.—So may some kind Turf
Hide my mean Dust, deserted and forgot;
Wrong'd with no Monumental Flattery.
Thou pitying Mother, Earth! ah! when? when? when?
Shall this try'd Child of Griefs his care-sick Head,
(Weary'd with Woes and Frailty) gently sink
On thy Grave's kind, cold Pillow? there to rest
Fresh for his Bridal, Resurrection-Morn?
Period of wish'd Perfection! why recoils
My shudd'ring Flesh, at Dissolution's Name?
Our Entrance into Life may reconcile
The Thought, to Death: entomb'd, before we're born,
A living Death; in the Maternal Grave.
Death, from the very Cradle, early wooes
Our timorous Childhood by his Image Sleep;
And lectures Manhood in his nightly School.
“But Guilt wakes Fears?”—yet, points a lenient Balm.
Look to the bloody Cross! behold thy Cure!
To Calv'ry go! view his Aceldema,
That sanguine Field! where Death my Saviour fought
A Victor bath'd in Gore! and vanquish'd there
That All devourer, foul, of Human Race.
He conquer'd Sin, by Sufferings, Pains by Smart,
And Death, by dying: In his Conflict, there,
Conquer'd for thee, and by his Vict'ry, made
That stingless Monster his Believer's Friend.
Sing, ransom'd Worms! ye Pris'ners, glad, of hope,
Shout, shout his Triumphs; your Deliverer's Praise.
Labour'd with costliest Art, directs my Eye
To find the Man, the Man? Ah rather sure
The Angel in that Form! who late below,
Thro' long Eclipse of gloomiest Poverty,
Look'd, yet, so lovely from his suffering Sphere.
His life, a Soil where ev'ry heavenly Grace
In their full Clusters grew. Zeal, warm while meek
136
Yet, an Humility most deep abas'd:
Most Patience in worst want: The worthiest, best,
Of Christians be, of Fathers, Husbands, Friends.
—My Feet have trac'd him out, I recollect
The once-known Spot—and liest thou, liest thou here?
In this poor Shrine, obscure, of Filth and Weeds!
Worthy in noblest Pyramid to rest
Of Brass or Gold: whom, claim'd in Skies anon,
Bright hov'ring Seraphs shall with Songs attend.
—Wait!—sweetly rested.—So may some kind Turf
Hide my mean Dust, deserted and forgot;
Wrong'd with no Monumental Flattery.
Thou pitying Mother, Earth! ah! when? when? when?
Shall this try'd Child of Griefs his care-sick Head,
(Weary'd with Woes and Frailty) gently sink
On thy Grave's kind, cold Pillow? there to rest
Fresh for his Bridal, Resurrection-Morn?
Period of wish'd Perfection! why recoils
My shudd'ring Flesh, at Dissolution's Name?
Our Entrance into Life may reconcile
The Thought, to Death: entomb'd, before we're born,
A living Death; in the Maternal Grave.
Death, from the very Cradle, early wooes
Our timorous Childhood by his Image Sleep;
137
“But Guilt wakes Fears?”—yet, points a lenient Balm.
Look to the bloody Cross! behold thy Cure!
To Calv'ry go! view his Aceldema,
That sanguine Field! where Death my Saviour fought
A Victor bath'd in Gore! and vanquish'd there
That All devourer, foul, of Human Race.
He conquer'd Sin, by Sufferings, Pains by Smart,
And Death, by dying: In his Conflict, there,
Conquer'd for thee, and by his Vict'ry, made
That stingless Monster his Believer's Friend.
Sing, ransom'd Worms! ye Pris'ners, glad, of hope,
Shout, shout his Triumphs; your Deliverer's Praise.
But O!—O what remains?—a Throne! a Crown!
For us! base Aliens! us! his Murderers won!
With him deputed Heirs, joint-heirs of Heaven!
O! Pow'r, Fruit, Gift of strange mysterious Grace!
Abyss! when sathom'd, but more lost—to view
A prime Arch-Angel from his golden Orb
Fall'n, to a Fiend! a Human Reptile, vile!
Rais'd from a frail, weak Infant of a Span,
(Guilty as weak) to fill his vacant Throne!
And is this Glory mine? It is! it is!
O, false Humility! thou Vice disguis'd
In specious Dress, of proud, infernal Die,
Thou loud Blasphemer of the Truth of Heav'n!
That dares the Promise, dares the Oath of God
Discountenance, by unbelieving Fear.
These Glories all are mine! as sure in Pledge,
As if possess'd; when Death the Hour of Joy,
That waited, wish'd-for Hour! shall minister
My large Induction. Sad, distrustful Heart,
No longer droop! live, royaly my Hope!
On the full, safe Reversion! O, exult
My Faith! my Love! my heavenly-rais'd Desire!
My holy Gratitude!—in ev'ry State,
In ev'ry View, my Whole of Being blest!
Amply while living; amplest, when I die!
For us! base Aliens! us! his Murderers won!
With him deputed Heirs, joint-heirs of Heaven!
O! Pow'r, Fruit, Gift of strange mysterious Grace!
Abyss! when sathom'd, but more lost—to view
A prime Arch-Angel from his golden Orb
Fall'n, to a Fiend! a Human Reptile, vile!
Rais'd from a frail, weak Infant of a Span,
(Guilty as weak) to fill his vacant Throne!
And is this Glory mine? It is! it is!
O, false Humility! thou Vice disguis'd
In specious Dress, of proud, infernal Die,
138
That dares the Promise, dares the Oath of God
Discountenance, by unbelieving Fear.
These Glories all are mine! as sure in Pledge,
As if possess'd; when Death the Hour of Joy,
That waited, wish'd-for Hour! shall minister
My large Induction. Sad, distrustful Heart,
No longer droop! live, royaly my Hope!
On the full, safe Reversion! O, exult
My Faith! my Love! my heavenly-rais'd Desire!
My holy Gratitude!—in ev'ry State,
In ev'ry View, my Whole of Being blest!
Amply while living; amplest, when I die!
I quit th' affecting Place, inciting Themes
Of too o'er-pressing Weight for mortal Powers.
Here let my Thoughts divert awhile; to mark
This peopled Rookery: All Abroad on Wing,
Each with their several Families employ'd;
Training to Industry their callow Broods.
To Man how moral! loud it speaks to Man:
Man may learn here, that Indolent! his Work,
His Duties Task: of helpless Progeny
The Care, and Erudition's tender Toil.
Man may learn here, that Infidel! to place
On Providence his Trust: These all depend
On its free Almonry: “Wide dost thou stretch,
Preserver kind! thy lib'ral shedding Hand,
Munificent, and with Profusion fill,
Of ev'ry living Thing, the large Desire.”
More useful Lesson yet to Man they teach,
To Atheist Man, that Monster Rational!
One obvious Lesson more important still:
Pray'r Nature's Instinct, innate to the Soul,
A Tax of Homage on Creation laid,
The general Bond on universal Life.
Their morning Orisons, their Vespers loud
These teach their Young; The Infant Suppliants cry,
And ask their Meat from God: how sweetly, hark!
Sound their Responses! how devout the Charm!—
—And see, the sporting Minstrels! how in Troops
They make Excursion; now divide, now join
Their sable Columns; travel and return;
Yet never jostle in their mazy Flight.
While quick observing, thro' their lofty Camp,
Their planted Centinel gives warning Signs.
Strange Intuition!—cheaply tenanted
Free, and at Ease they dwell: content each Day
With Nature's Dole, and blest with careless Sleeps,
Hous'd in their skiey Chambers, rock'd by Winds.
Ah! happy Freemen! ye, your Fields of Air
Hold common with ye all. Man, tyrant Lord!
Parcels his Speck of Earth, to each small Spot.
(Counting mean Self the whole) lays private Claim!
And yokes in servile Toils his vassal'd Kind,
Distinguish'd scarcely from the vassal'd Brute;
Pre-eminenc'd alone, by Birth, in Woe.
But lo! a stately Mansion, breaks at once
From this short Visto, on th' attracted Eye.
Hush'd in deep Silence seem the Houshold Trains:
Sunk all, inconscious, in Sleep's wilful Death.
Opiate, when us'd undue from Sloth's foul Cup,
To wreck Self-murder on the Heav'n-born Thought.
Ye Throngs loquacious! with more clamorous Croaks,
Call! louder, to these fascinated Roofs,
And start th' obscene, Day-dreamers up to Shame.
Of too o'er-pressing Weight for mortal Powers.
Here let my Thoughts divert awhile; to mark
This peopled Rookery: All Abroad on Wing,
Each with their several Families employ'd;
Training to Industry their callow Broods.
To Man how moral! loud it speaks to Man:
Man may learn here, that Indolent! his Work,
His Duties Task: of helpless Progeny
The Care, and Erudition's tender Toil.
Man may learn here, that Infidel! to place
On Providence his Trust: These all depend
On its free Almonry: “Wide dost thou stretch,
Preserver kind! thy lib'ral shedding Hand,
139
Of ev'ry living Thing, the large Desire.”
More useful Lesson yet to Man they teach,
To Atheist Man, that Monster Rational!
One obvious Lesson more important still:
Pray'r Nature's Instinct, innate to the Soul,
A Tax of Homage on Creation laid,
The general Bond on universal Life.
Their morning Orisons, their Vespers loud
These teach their Young; The Infant Suppliants cry,
And ask their Meat from God: how sweetly, hark!
Sound their Responses! how devout the Charm!—
—And see, the sporting Minstrels! how in Troops
They make Excursion; now divide, now join
Their sable Columns; travel and return;
Yet never jostle in their mazy Flight.
While quick observing, thro' their lofty Camp,
Their planted Centinel gives warning Signs.
Strange Intuition!—cheaply tenanted
Free, and at Ease they dwell: content each Day
With Nature's Dole, and blest with careless Sleeps,
Hous'd in their skiey Chambers, rock'd by Winds.
Ah! happy Freemen! ye, your Fields of Air
Hold common with ye all. Man, tyrant Lord!
Parcels his Speck of Earth, to each small Spot.
(Counting mean Self the whole) lays private Claim!
140
Distinguish'd scarcely from the vassal'd Brute;
Pre-eminenc'd alone, by Birth, in Woe.
But lo! a stately Mansion, breaks at once
From this short Visto, on th' attracted Eye.
Hush'd in deep Silence seem the Houshold Trains:
Sunk all, inconscious, in Sleep's wilful Death.
Opiate, when us'd undue from Sloth's foul Cup,
To wreck Self-murder on the Heav'n-born Thought.
Ye Throngs loquacious! with more clamorous Croaks,
Call! louder, to these fascinated Roofs,
And start th' obscene, Day-dreamers up to Shame.
Where am I brought in inobservant Range,
By Meditation's Hand led gently on?
An Eden sure, a new, lost Paradise,
Seems in this blissful Privacy restor'd!
Here let me sit: alluring is the Scene,
Where the gay Bank spreads, soft, its native Couch
Of velvet Verdures, and embroid'ring Flowers.
The passing Zephirs from their loaded Wings
Lodge their stol'n Fragance here, a Hive of Sweets:
Cull'd from the new-cock'd Hay, and blossom'd Bean
And honied Woodbine; that with twisting Arms
Weds her lov'd Elm in this dark Nuptial Bow'r.
In whose cool Cov'ring sits the piping Breeze,
With Birds symphonious answ'ring from the Boughs.
While, in blue Sedge, and rustic Osier clad,
Close at my Foot a River gently strays:
It's Murmurs rolling to a neighb'ring Wood.
Beneath whose quiv'ring Shade, the sunny Beams
Dance on the checquer'd Stream, with shifting Light;
And in its Mirrour show the finny Tribes,
That o'er the shining Pebbles make their Chase.
And, farther off, appears again at large
The wand'ring Current; turning oft aside
His Husband-Flood to kiss the Consort-Mead;
And with her Offspring play, of smiling Flowers.
He, from his wealthy Affluence, pleas'd relieves
A thousand happy Objects in his Way;
Yet, his own, kindred Banks leaves ever full.
Rich in his Fountain, like the lib'ral Hand,
He gains by giving: and his crystal Breast
Grows, by his Alms dispens'd, more sweet and pure.
While (like vast, standing Lakes) contracted Minds
Pent up, amassing for themselves alone,
Infectious turn: more fœtid by their Store.
How, all unchang'd, by Lengths of Ages past,
These silver Tides have kept their stated Course!
The Sea, that takes their Tributes, feeds their Springs.
While proudest Tow'rs, that once these Banks adorn'd,
Long since, are moulder'd in their pristine Dust.
Strange Contradiction! Things in flux, their Forms
Hold permanent; Things fix'd, by Time expire.
Just so, the restless Soul that ever moves
Tow'rd God its Centre, from his Ocean finds
Encreas'd Supplies; when Carnalists, on self
Proud-settling, feel their false Foundations sapp'd—
Sunk—in their own Dilapidations lost.
By Meditation's Hand led gently on?
An Eden sure, a new, lost Paradise,
Seems in this blissful Privacy restor'd!
Here let me sit: alluring is the Scene,
Where the gay Bank spreads, soft, its native Couch
Of velvet Verdures, and embroid'ring Flowers.
The passing Zephirs from their loaded Wings
Lodge their stol'n Fragance here, a Hive of Sweets:
Cull'd from the new-cock'd Hay, and blossom'd Bean
And honied Woodbine; that with twisting Arms
Weds her lov'd Elm in this dark Nuptial Bow'r.
In whose cool Cov'ring sits the piping Breeze,
With Birds symphonious answ'ring from the Boughs.
141
Close at my Foot a River gently strays:
It's Murmurs rolling to a neighb'ring Wood.
Beneath whose quiv'ring Shade, the sunny Beams
Dance on the checquer'd Stream, with shifting Light;
142
That o'er the shining Pebbles make their Chase.
143
The wand'ring Current; turning oft aside
His Husband-Flood to kiss the Consort-Mead;
And with her Offspring play, of smiling Flowers.
He, from his wealthy Affluence, pleas'd relieves
A thousand happy Objects in his Way;
Yet, his own, kindred Banks leaves ever full.
Rich in his Fountain, like the lib'ral Hand,
He gains by giving: and his crystal Breast
Grows, by his Alms dispens'd, more sweet and pure.
While (like vast, standing Lakes) contracted Minds
Pent up, amassing for themselves alone,
Infectious turn: more fœtid by their Store.
How, all unchang'd, by Lengths of Ages past,
These silver Tides have kept their stated Course!
The Sea, that takes their Tributes, feeds their Springs.
While proudest Tow'rs, that once these Banks adorn'd,
Long since, are moulder'd in their pristine Dust.
Strange Contradiction! Things in flux, their Forms
Hold permanent; Things fix'd, by Time expire.
Just so, the restless Soul that ever moves
Tow'rd God its Centre, from his Ocean finds
Encreas'd Supplies; when Carnalists, on self
Proud-settling, feel their false Foundations sapp'd—
Sunk—in their own Dilapidations lost.
144
The Vale has catch'd my Eye; where thro' the Brake,
At Distance-small descry'd, a spacious Waste
Of stateliest Ruins tempts my Feet away.
Long desolate: in superstitious Times
An Abbey fair; with wandring-Cloysters-large,
And Tow'rs broad-rear'd, and entring-Arches-wide,
And Walks, long-bowring once, of sweetest Shade,
All winding pleasant by a fishy Stream.
Ah! happy Country! from thy dreadful Thrall
Releas'd; of Errour's Night, and mental Chains.
Christ and his Truths were lost: our bigot Sires
In the dark Chambers of their Imag'ry,
Serv'd Idols: falsly deifying thee
Mary, blest Virgin (blest, tho' unador'd)
Stil'd, Queen of Heaven, and Mother (strange!) of God.
Plain Name of Blasphemy; when Mother, pure,
Not of Christ's Godhead, but of Christ the Man.
Then Mediator Saints (some, while on Earth
Least saintly) were invok'd; while he, pronounc'd
Sole Mediator, with his Righteousness
By Faith alone imputed, was displac'd
For legal Works of Merit; falsly taught
To justify: Rome's gainful Mart for Gold.
Crafts, to serve priestly Av'rice, Pride and Pow'r.
And, are there who that vile detested Yoke
Wou'd re-impose
, by vain un-gospel Rites?
Who Souls misled wou'd on Repentance rest
For Life? and Duties of defective Law?
Hirelings? that make for Gain the Saviour's Church
A worldly Kingdom? that meer Titles seek?
And hunt for carnal Profits, Sloth, and Ease,
In rich Pluralities! who famish'd leave
The pining Flock, and cloath them with their Wool?
Lord of thy Israel! these intruding Wolves
Cast from thy Fold!—to dress thy Vineyard send
Try'd, faithful Labourers by blest Lucre mov'd,
Large Wages seeking in, not for, their Work.
Holy, Regenerate, Humble;—deep, best learn'd,
From inward Teachings, in thy Spirit's School.
Striving, alone, who most with Zeal, with Love
Shall burn for Jesus, in their Toils for Men.
At Distance-small descry'd, a spacious Waste
Of stateliest Ruins tempts my Feet away.
Long desolate: in superstitious Times
An Abbey fair; with wandring-Cloysters-large,
And Tow'rs broad-rear'd, and entring-Arches-wide,
And Walks, long-bowring once, of sweetest Shade,
All winding pleasant by a fishy Stream.
Ah! happy Country! from thy dreadful Thrall
Releas'd; of Errour's Night, and mental Chains.
Christ and his Truths were lost: our bigot Sires
In the dark Chambers of their Imag'ry,
Serv'd Idols: falsly deifying thee
Mary, blest Virgin (blest, tho' unador'd)
Stil'd, Queen of Heaven, and Mother (strange!) of God.
Plain Name of Blasphemy; when Mother, pure,
Not of Christ's Godhead, but of Christ the Man.
Then Mediator Saints (some, while on Earth
Least saintly) were invok'd; while he, pronounc'd
Sole Mediator, with his Righteousness
By Faith alone imputed, was displac'd
For legal Works of Merit; falsly taught
To justify: Rome's gainful Mart for Gold.
Crafts, to serve priestly Av'rice, Pride and Pow'r.
And, are there who that vile detested Yoke
145
Who Souls misled wou'd on Repentance rest
146
Hirelings? that make for Gain the Saviour's Church
A worldly Kingdom? that meer Titles seek?
And hunt for carnal Profits, Sloth, and Ease,
In rich Pluralities! who famish'd leave
The pining Flock, and cloath them with their Wool?
Lord of thy Israel! these intruding Wolves
Cast from thy Fold!—to dress thy Vineyard send
Try'd, faithful Labourers by blest Lucre mov'd,
Large Wages seeking in, not for, their Work.
Holy, Regenerate, Humble;—deep, best learn'd,
From inward Teachings, in thy Spirit's School.
Striving, alone, who most with Zeal, with Love
Shall burn for Jesus, in their Toils for Men.
What sudden Warnings give the must'ring Clouds
That lour, tempestuous, in the alter'd Air?
Beasts their close Coverts, Birds their shadiest Trees
Affrighted seek, the March of instant Storm
Presaging sure. It points this Way—'tis come!
Deep groans th' Ear-rending Thunder, that compels
My speedy Flight: For Shelter, poorly sought
Amid these bowing Roofs, and dropping Walls;
And dark sunk Caverns, for the Foot unsafe:
The Toads foul Nurs'ry, and the drear Resort
Of lurking Adders, and th' ill-boding Owl.
Thro' whose torn Clefts the haunting Echoes rave
With Peals more horrid, and of hoarser roar.
Hark! how the Rains in streaming Torrents burst!
While livid flash the mix'd sulphureous Flames,
Soon follow'd by new Vollies from the Skies.
A dreadful fight of jarring Elements:
The Strife of Waters, with the Rage of Fire.
In that one Voice, now rais'd, what Terrors spoke!
Again!—more loud it grows.—And shall I fear
A Father's Thunder? will his lightning harm
A Child? a Fav'rite? in his fond, fond Heart
Lodg'd, watch'd, remember'd; by as quick a Sense
As the touch'd Pupil of the feeling Eye.
Are not his Angels here? my royal Guard
On kind Commission sent. Himself is here!
Himself! in ev'ry State of Conflict found
My help! my Saviour, nigh! my present God!
And shall I fear? tho' Nature swift were seiz'd
With her expiring Pang; tho' Hell should arm,
And hemm'd I stood, with ghastliest Furies round?
Roar on, ye Thunders! flash, ye Lightnings now!
On this untrembling Breast! 'mid all your Threats,
Compos'd to sweetest Peace; while calm'd, assur'd,
By the felt Pledges, of a Father's Love.
—Try, Unbeliever! how thy Bulrush-Hope
Will bear thee; in an Hour of stormy Fears;
In Calm, in Courage like the Christian's Trust!
That lour, tempestuous, in the alter'd Air?
147
Affrighted seek, the March of instant Storm
Presaging sure. It points this Way—'tis come!
Deep groans th' Ear-rending Thunder, that compels
My speedy Flight: For Shelter, poorly sought
Amid these bowing Roofs, and dropping Walls;
And dark sunk Caverns, for the Foot unsafe:
The Toads foul Nurs'ry, and the drear Resort
Of lurking Adders, and th' ill-boding Owl.
Thro' whose torn Clefts the haunting Echoes rave
With Peals more horrid, and of hoarser roar.
Hark! how the Rains in streaming Torrents burst!
While livid flash the mix'd sulphureous Flames,
Soon follow'd by new Vollies from the Skies.
A dreadful fight of jarring Elements:
The Strife of Waters, with the Rage of Fire.
In that one Voice, now rais'd, what Terrors spoke!
Again!—more loud it grows.—And shall I fear
A Father's Thunder? will his lightning harm
A Child? a Fav'rite? in his fond, fond Heart
Lodg'd, watch'd, remember'd; by as quick a Sense
As the touch'd Pupil of the feeling Eye.
Are not his Angels here? my royal Guard
On kind Commission sent. Himself is here!
Himself! in ev'ry State of Conflict found
My help! my Saviour, nigh! my present God!
And shall I fear? tho' Nature swift were seiz'd
With her expiring Pang; tho' Hell should arm,
148
Roar on, ye Thunders! flash, ye Lightnings now!
On this untrembling Breast! 'mid all your Threats,
Compos'd to sweetest Peace; while calm'd, assur'd,
By the felt Pledges, of a Father's Love.
—Try, Unbeliever! how thy Bulrush-Hope
Will bear thee; in an Hour of stormy Fears;
In Calm, in Courage like the Christian's Trust!
The Wreck comes near, in that thick, dun-red Cloud,
Full o'er my Head impended: big, and low.
Guard, gracious Heav'n! how direful was that Crack!
As if Earth's Poles were rift, and in her Doom
Heav'ns whole Artillery was discharg'd at once.
And—hah!—behold, the Havock, see this Oak
Close at my Side! that, but a Moment past,
Stretch'd his proud, vaunting Arms, himself a Wood,
Long Proof to all, the Elemental War:
Scath'd by the nitrous Blast, his knotted Trunk
In mangled Fragments strew'd, torshivers riv'd;
With all his antient Honours laid in Dust!—
So near its Fate, why miss'd the fiery Death
In my pierc'd Heart to drink the vital Stream?
Thy Care, all watchful, thy love rescuing Arm,
Preserver dear! in prostrate Homage prais'd.
Fix, the deep Voice of Providence, my Thoughts
Of thy vindictive Pow'r. Whose less alarm
London! thy shook Metropolis has felt,
(Oh! had it shook more Hearts!) which, yet so fresh,
Suggests a Theme, not devious, for my song.
Full o'er my Head impended: big, and low.
Guard, gracious Heav'n! how direful was that Crack!
As if Earth's Poles were rift, and in her Doom
Heav'ns whole Artillery was discharg'd at once.
And—hah!—behold, the Havock, see this Oak
Close at my Side! that, but a Moment past,
Stretch'd his proud, vaunting Arms, himself a Wood,
Long Proof to all, the Elemental War:
Scath'd by the nitrous Blast, his knotted Trunk
In mangled Fragments strew'd, torshivers riv'd;
With all his antient Honours laid in Dust!—
So near its Fate, why miss'd the fiery Death
In my pierc'd Heart to drink the vital Stream?
Thy Care, all watchful, thy love rescuing Arm,
Preserver dear! in prostrate Homage prais'd.
Fix, the deep Voice of Providence, my Thoughts
Of thy vindictive Pow'r. Whose less alarm
149
(Oh! had it shook more Hearts!) which, yet so fresh,
Suggests a Theme, not devious, for my song.
Still rose the Morn; Security had lull'd,
The flatter'd Sons of Vice in false Repose.
Heav'n of its dread Intent no Portents gave;
Ah! too, too obvious in our gen'ral Crimes.
Pleasure had lent to Time her silken Wings;
And, to her Syrens, danc'd his wanton Hours,
Thoughtless of Change. Mirth wore her liveliest Smile,
And Ease sat; listless, on Augusta's Walls.
When, instantaneous, Earth's huge, cumb'rous Mass
Heav'd, with strange Pang, and deep resounds her Groan.
All, at the signal, rouse—but stretch them soon
In Folly's dallying Lap, and hush their Fear.
The Month her Circle had in Pastimes clos'd,
Again—another—a repeated Shock,
A louder Voice, of Horror more severe,
Starts the dead Slumb'rers from their impious Dream.
Where sly the threaten'd Wretches? where? where, now,
For wish'd Relief?—To suppliant Penitence?
To Fasts? to Mournings? to the House of Pray'r?
A Posture due—Ah! no. To Plays! to Sports!
To midnight Revels! nearest match'd in Guilt
To those of Fiends; the Jubilee of Hell!
Hear it not, Strangers! our Disgrace outbraves
All Parallel; in two, amazing Days!
On each, an Earthquake! and on each a Ball!
The flatter'd Sons of Vice in false Repose.
Heav'n of its dread Intent no Portents gave;
Ah! too, too obvious in our gen'ral Crimes.
Pleasure had lent to Time her silken Wings;
And, to her Syrens, danc'd his wanton Hours,
Thoughtless of Change. Mirth wore her liveliest Smile,
And Ease sat; listless, on Augusta's Walls.
When, instantaneous, Earth's huge, cumb'rous Mass
Heav'd, with strange Pang, and deep resounds her Groan.
All, at the signal, rouse—but stretch them soon
In Folly's dallying Lap, and hush their Fear.
The Month her Circle had in Pastimes clos'd,
Again—another—a repeated Shock,
A louder Voice, of Horror more severe,
Starts the dead Slumb'rers from their impious Dream.
Where sly the threaten'd Wretches? where? where, now,
For wish'd Relief?—To suppliant Penitence?
To Fasts? to Mournings? to the House of Pray'r?
A Posture due—Ah! no. To Plays! to Sports!
To midnight Revels! nearest match'd in Guilt
150
Hear it not, Strangers! our Disgrace outbraves
All Parallel; in two, amazing Days!
On each, an Earthquake! and on each a Ball!
Has Man his Hours in charge? important trust!
All lent? all number'd? all with duty tax'd?
In Sloth to rust? in Luxury to waste?
To lose, in sensual Feculence, at will?
Like hardy Gamesters, desp'rate in their Play!
What are their rank Amours? that dare the Sun
In Day's broad Eye? amid the num'rous Stews
(Affronting, with Impunity, our Streets?)
Of shameless Youth the fashionable Schools?
All Order, Ties, Relations, Heav'n's wise Law
Made the Drole's laugh, and broke, for Modes of Sin.
What are their Meetings, at the swinish Board
Of boasted Fellowship, their roaring Bands!
But Circe's Monsters, wallowing o'er their Trough?
What, their Assemblies? for Politeness fam'd!
Nurs'ries of Pride, and leud Intrigue, and fraud
In lavish Play; base lust, of furtive Gold!
Health, Innocence, and precious Minutes, lost!
Immortal Minds amus'd o'er painted Toys!—
View it not, Angels! to enhance your Scorn
Of Man; already in your Sight too mean.
All lent? all number'd? all with duty tax'd?
In Sloth to rust? in Luxury to waste?
To lose, in sensual Feculence, at will?
Like hardy Gamesters, desp'rate in their Play!
What are their rank Amours? that dare the Sun
In Day's broad Eye? amid the num'rous Stews
(Affronting, with Impunity, our Streets?)
Of shameless Youth the fashionable Schools?
All Order, Ties, Relations, Heav'n's wise Law
Made the Drole's laugh, and broke, for Modes of Sin.
What are their Meetings, at the swinish Board
Of boasted Fellowship, their roaring Bands!
But Circe's Monsters, wallowing o'er their Trough?
What, their Assemblies? for Politeness fam'd!
Nurs'ries of Pride, and leud Intrigue, and fraud
In lavish Play; base lust, of furtive Gold!
Health, Innocence, and precious Minutes, lost!
Immortal Minds amus'd o'er painted Toys!—
View it not, Angels! to enhance your Scorn
Of Man; already in your Sight too mean.
151
Oh—Britain!—oh!—maternal, weeping Land!
These are thy Christians! sham'd by Pagan Climes,
These thy sad Prospects! this thy hopeless Race!
Mature for Ruin!—should the dreaded Blow
Seize them, immers'd in Acts of daring Sin!
Should Heav'n its Scenes of Horror, then, disclose;
The yawning Earth! sunk Street! and cracking Pile!
—Hark!—'tis at Hand!—prepare to meet thy God!
Thy God, O Britain! thy tremendous Judge!
Thy Judge incens'd! Omnipotence in Wrath!
A dreadful Foe! he speaks—but spares the Stroke;
Love wrests the Vengeance from his lifted Arm.
O, timely be attentive! hear! hear! hear
His monitory Voice! his awful, loud,
Yet gentle Call!—mild Saviour! friend of Man!
Pour, in large Streams, thy soft'ning Spirit down,
To melt the native Rock of human Hearts!
Dear, bleeding Advocate! our hapless State
Commiserate, all gracious; bow thy Ear
Pitying to suppliant Dust! thy People's Pray'rs,
The Matrons Tears, our Infants helpless Cries,
Invoke thee, “Oh, avert! avert our Doom!”
These are thy Christians! sham'd by Pagan Climes,
These thy sad Prospects! this thy hopeless Race!
Mature for Ruin!—should the dreaded Blow
Seize them, immers'd in Acts of daring Sin!
Should Heav'n its Scenes of Horror, then, disclose;
The yawning Earth! sunk Street! and cracking Pile!
—Hark!—'tis at Hand!—prepare to meet thy God!
Thy God, O Britain! thy tremendous Judge!
Thy Judge incens'd! Omnipotence in Wrath!
A dreadful Foe! he speaks—but spares the Stroke;
Love wrests the Vengeance from his lifted Arm.
O, timely be attentive! hear! hear! hear
His monitory Voice! his awful, loud,
Yet gentle Call!—mild Saviour! friend of Man!
Pour, in large Streams, thy soft'ning Spirit down,
To melt the native Rock of human Hearts!
Dear, bleeding Advocate! our hapless State
Commiserate, all gracious; bow thy Ear
Pitying to suppliant Dust! thy People's Pray'rs,
The Matrons Tears, our Infants helpless Cries,
Invoke thee, “Oh, avert! avert our Doom!”
The Storm is ceas'd—The Thunders know their God,
And still their roar. O! how severe is felt
His Frown in Nature, tho' his Frown of Love!
Each Prospect mourns! from all the languid Tribe
Of weeping Flow'rs, and ev'ry dripping Tree.
Soon shall your short-soil'd Beauties be repair'd,
By glossier Lustres, and more spic'd Perfumes,
For see! the Sun his fresh-refulgent Rays
Pours on the Skirt of yon soft fleecy Cloud
That form a shadowy Arch of dazzling Lifts:
Gay Yellow, emerald-Green, and morning-Red,
Aurora's Blush; a shining Zone, engrain'd
In Tints of Heav'n. With whose sweet Aspect pleas'd,
God (in remembrance of sworn Amity
With Earth established, and perpetual League,)
Gracious will look; his Cov'nant-Symbol own'd
Of Peace, and full-exterminated Ire.
Birds raise their joyous Song; and Flocks and Kine
Thro' the shower'd Meads for savoury Banquet roam.
All is a State of Love, no Quarrels here
Divide the diff'rent Polities: The Boar
Feeds at full Range beside the Labourer Ox,
With the tame Steed the Lamb free Pastures share,
Man only, Feud foments, proud, factious Man,
The Savage, lordly Wrangler of the World.
And still their roar. O! how severe is felt
His Frown in Nature, tho' his Frown of Love!
152
Of weeping Flow'rs, and ev'ry dripping Tree.
Soon shall your short-soil'd Beauties be repair'd,
By glossier Lustres, and more spic'd Perfumes,
For see! the Sun his fresh-refulgent Rays
Pours on the Skirt of yon soft fleecy Cloud
That form a shadowy Arch of dazzling Lifts:
Gay Yellow, emerald-Green, and morning-Red,
Aurora's Blush; a shining Zone, engrain'd
In Tints of Heav'n. With whose sweet Aspect pleas'd,
God (in remembrance of sworn Amity
With Earth established, and perpetual League,)
Gracious will look; his Cov'nant-Symbol own'd
Of Peace, and full-exterminated Ire.
Birds raise their joyous Song; and Flocks and Kine
Thro' the shower'd Meads for savoury Banquet roam.
All is a State of Love, no Quarrels here
Divide the diff'rent Polities: The Boar
Feeds at full Range beside the Labourer Ox,
With the tame Steed the Lamb free Pastures share,
Man only, Feud foments, proud, factious Man,
The Savage, lordly Wrangler of the World.
Such pleas'd Surveys of Nature's wondrous Frame
Suit well the Sanctity of holiest Time;
And shall the Bigot, of censorious Stamp
The Christian brand? who, contemplating thus,
His early Lot or late of hallow'd Hours
In rural Wandrings spends? depriv'd the Means
Of Closet-Thought, by Circumstances strait
Of numerous Offspring, or the Want of Place
In Houshold Privacy. Acquiring here
(Besides a Mind, more sooth'd to heavenly Calm)
Brac'd Nerves, rais'd Appetite, and purer Blood:
The Tides fast pouring in of Health, and Joy.
Corp'ral with mental Good.—away! ye gloom'd,
O'er-rigid Race! stiff Pharisees in Creed!
Who gospel-Saints by sabbatary Forms
Would bind; that Vassalage of legal Rest.
Like me (e're hardness of degenerate Hearts
Compell'd strict Jewish-Law) in Hebron's Field
Accepted Isaac, at accustom'd Eve
Walk'd forth to meditate: and him ador'd
Lord of his Sabbath, Man's Exemplar blest,
He, (like his mean Disciple) thro' the Paths
Of tow'ring Corn, or some lone, shade-top'd Hill,
Took, social or apart, his devious Way.
Safe Rule: If not from him his Follower swerve.
Suit well the Sanctity of holiest Time;
And shall the Bigot, of censorious Stamp
153
His early Lot or late of hallow'd Hours
In rural Wandrings spends? depriv'd the Means
Of Closet-Thought, by Circumstances strait
Of numerous Offspring, or the Want of Place
In Houshold Privacy. Acquiring here
(Besides a Mind, more sooth'd to heavenly Calm)
Brac'd Nerves, rais'd Appetite, and purer Blood:
The Tides fast pouring in of Health, and Joy.
Corp'ral with mental Good.—away! ye gloom'd,
O'er-rigid Race! stiff Pharisees in Creed!
Who gospel-Saints by sabbatary Forms
Would bind; that Vassalage of legal Rest.
Like me (e're hardness of degenerate Hearts
Compell'd strict Jewish-Law) in Hebron's Field
Accepted Isaac, at accustom'd Eve
Walk'd forth to meditate: and him ador'd
Lord of his Sabbath, Man's Exemplar blest,
He, (like his mean Disciple) thro' the Paths
Of tow'ring Corn, or some lone, shade-top'd Hill,
Took, social or apart, his devious Way.
Safe Rule: If not from him his Follower swerve.
One Duty of the solemn Day is paid:
The meet Remembrance of Creation's Works.
But, Works more Godlike, more transcendent far,
(A weightier Debt, a dearer Duty still!)
Claim my full Sum of wondring, grateful Thoughts:
So ever, still, in paying ne'er to pay.
A World, miraculous like this, to make
A Word it cost! but one prolific Word!
But ah! th' Almighty Maker's Life itself
Was paid, that World from Ruin to redeem.
God stoop'd to Suffrings, for his Creature's Sin!
Oh! that at once to him (tho' not in Grace
In Name resembling) thou to me would'st deign
(Hid in the Clift of thy spear-open'd Side)
In Trance thy passing Deity to view!—
See me, thou meek incarnate Majesty!
With aw'd Request bow'd deeper than in Dust:
And thy free Spirit send, they purchas'd Gift,
In my Mind's Glass the Vision to reveal:
Some faint, short Glimpse, thy Glories hindmost Parts,
My Morning-Wandrings last, but sweetest Theme.
The meet Remembrance of Creation's Works.
But, Works more Godlike, more transcendent far,
(A weightier Debt, a dearer Duty still!)
Claim my full Sum of wondring, grateful Thoughts:
154
A World, miraculous like this, to make
A Word it cost! but one prolific Word!
But ah! th' Almighty Maker's Life itself
Was paid, that World from Ruin to redeem.
God stoop'd to Suffrings, for his Creature's Sin!
Oh! that at once to him (tho' not in Grace
In Name resembling) thou to me would'st deign
(Hid in the Clift of thy spear-open'd Side)
In Trance thy passing Deity to view!—
See me, thou meek incarnate Majesty!
With aw'd Request bow'd deeper than in Dust:
And thy free Spirit send, they purchas'd Gift,
In my Mind's Glass the Vision to reveal:
Some faint, short Glimpse, thy Glories hindmost Parts,
My Morning-Wandrings last, but sweetest Theme.
What may not ransom'd Man provided see
In the rich Covenant , by Redemption wrought?
His whole of Bliss secur'd; the Means and End:
All his wish'd Blessings, treasur'd safe in thee
Thou, Lord of Angels! but the Sinners Friend!
Ah! more, his Kinsman, in fraternal Bonds!
Where shall the guilt-convicted Creature fly?
Scorch'd thro', and stunn'd, with thund'ring Sinai's Curse?
To Works? That Law, that first convinc'd of Sin!
The Dead to work? meer Carcass, void of Strength:
Shut up, long putrid, in Corruption's Grave.
“But he may seek to Mercy,”—Mercy! where?
The Sword of fiery Justice waving guards
That Gate, made inaccessible to Guilt.
Show, if thou canst, without a Ransom giv'n,
A Satisfaction adequate and full,
Show, in a Way becoming Deity,
Mercy with Justice reconcil'd to Man:
Join Truth, that threatens Punishment, with Love.
What must he do?—“In deep Repentance plung'd,
Cleans'd, and abluted come.”—Ah! proud Deceit!
Repentance is the Child of fruitful Faith:
Not its Progenitor, as falsly taught;
(Twin-Virtues, rather, in the heavenly Train.)
Come as thou canst: Just, loathsome as thou art;
For a free Pardon, held thee out by Grace.
Like the bare Prodigal in all thy Filth
Take the blest Boon!—me in my Blood he found,
(Blotted all thro' with ev'ry Spot of Hell,
Trembling, condemn'd, in my own Thoughts, undone)
And cleans'd me in the Fountain of his own.
With all my Fears, to him, when lost, I turn'd;
And felt him soon my Peace, and feel him still,
(With his abiding Unction richly show'r'd)
A vital Head of Influence own'd, to me
His meanest Member: a weak Foot, defil'd,
Of that blest Body; often warp'd aside,
And turn'd away. Like the Sap-gendring Vine
Nurt'ring his grafted Branch, from him I draw
Growth, Sustenance, and Fruits. Ev'n Ills I feel,
(Such, in their Nature) op'rating in Good.
Blest is Temptation (not provok'd nor sought)
That makes me but more watchful. Blest, I deem
Afflictions; helping in their Exercise
My Work of perfect Patience, Ev'n my Lusts,
The Strivings of my old Corruption blest;
That drive me more to Jesus, drive me there
For Purity and Strength; all stor'd in him.
Push'd off by hostile Legions, safe I stand
Safe in the Covenant; in that Hold secure.
That Hold! not mine of him, but his of me.
In the rich Covenant , by Redemption wrought?
His whole of Bliss secur'd; the Means and End:
All his wish'd Blessings, treasur'd safe in thee
Thou, Lord of Angels! but the Sinners Friend!
Ah! more, his Kinsman, in fraternal Bonds!
Where shall the guilt-convicted Creature fly?
155
To Works? That Law, that first convinc'd of Sin!
The Dead to work? meer Carcass, void of Strength:
Shut up, long putrid, in Corruption's Grave.
“But he may seek to Mercy,”—Mercy! where?
The Sword of fiery Justice waving guards
That Gate, made inaccessible to Guilt.
Show, if thou canst, without a Ransom giv'n,
A Satisfaction adequate and full,
Show, in a Way becoming Deity,
Mercy with Justice reconcil'd to Man:
Join Truth, that threatens Punishment, with Love.
What must he do?—“In deep Repentance plung'd,
Cleans'd, and abluted come.”—Ah! proud Deceit!
Repentance is the Child of fruitful Faith:
Not its Progenitor, as falsly taught;
(Twin-Virtues, rather, in the heavenly Train.)
Come as thou canst: Just, loathsome as thou art;
For a free Pardon, held thee out by Grace.
Like the bare Prodigal in all thy Filth
Take the blest Boon!—me in my Blood he found,
(Blotted all thro' with ev'ry Spot of Hell,
Trembling, condemn'd, in my own Thoughts, undone)
And cleans'd me in the Fountain of his own.
With all my Fears, to him, when lost, I turn'd;
156
(With his abiding Unction richly show'r'd)
A vital Head of Influence own'd, to me
His meanest Member: a weak Foot, defil'd,
Of that blest Body; often warp'd aside,
And turn'd away. Like the Sap-gendring Vine
Nurt'ring his grafted Branch, from him I draw
Growth, Sustenance, and Fruits. Ev'n Ills I feel,
(Such, in their Nature) op'rating in Good.
Blest is Temptation (not provok'd nor sought)
That makes me but more watchful. Blest, I deem
Afflictions; helping in their Exercise
My Work of perfect Patience, Ev'n my Lusts,
The Strivings of my old Corruption blest;
That drive me more to Jesus, drive me there
For Purity and Strength; all stor'd in him.
Push'd off by hostile Legions, safe I stand
Safe in the Covenant; in that Hold secure.
That Hold! not mine of him, but his of me.
And mayst thou not, Believer! clear'd, absolv'd,
Lov'd, sanctified, and seal'd, thy purchas'd Heav'n
By safe Assurance hold? and take thy Seat
Now , in celestial Places?—Gospel Sons
(Not shall, but do) have enter'd in that Rest .
Their present Privilege, tho' to most unknown.
“Who? what high Fav'rite, more than Man, enjoys
A Charter so peculiar?” Multitudes!
Arriv'd at filial Liberty. A Right
Faith's weakest new-born Babe may safely claim.
All who in Christ believe, all ought, all may;
Who yield not blindly to the specious Guile
Of Carnal Reasonings, and base Unbelief:
False, wandring Fires, that lead in misty Night
The lost, sad Pilgrim, foul, and far, astray.
Lov'd, sanctified, and seal'd, thy purchas'd Heav'n
By safe Assurance hold? and take thy Seat
Now , in celestial Places?—Gospel Sons
(Not shall, but do) have enter'd in that Rest .
Their present Privilege, tho' to most unknown.
157
A Charter so peculiar?” Multitudes!
Arriv'd at filial Liberty. A Right
Faith's weakest new-born Babe may safely claim.
All who in Christ believe, all ought, all may;
Who yield not blindly to the specious Guile
Of Carnal Reasonings, and base Unbelief:
False, wandring Fires, that lead in misty Night
The lost, sad Pilgrim, foul, and far, astray.
Is this th' immortal, emulating Prize!
A Palm, for contest set to human Race!
And will the Child, (by Passions nurs'd and Dreams)
Bent on a present Portion, pine for Earth
In frensied Wish, and hug his bawble-World?
What is Ambition, but base Discontent
With what we are? What, Pleasure? but a Foam,
By the mad Torrent rais'd, of rapid Sense!
Beauty? what more, than an external Toy?
Those that possess it, too, enjoy it least!
Worn but for others! Guilt's Asylum, Gold,
What? a false Shadow, of as false a Good!
Fame, what? and Titles?—Breath! and empty Names!
What, Learning? but the Boast, with Labour gain'd,
Of knowing something?—that was known before!
And are these worth a Wish! an anxious Sigh!
Thy chief Solicitude! which claims it best?
(Count, sensual Soul! revolve it oft, and deep!)
A Portion, spent on Earth? or stor'd, in Heav'n?
Th' important Difference, scan! deliberate! weigh!
Note the vast, vast, Disparity! between
A Portion, hastning from! or hastning to!
A Palm, for contest set to human Race!
And will the Child, (by Passions nurs'd and Dreams)
Bent on a present Portion, pine for Earth
In frensied Wish, and hug his bawble-World?
What is Ambition, but base Discontent
With what we are? What, Pleasure? but a Foam,
By the mad Torrent rais'd, of rapid Sense!
Beauty? what more, than an external Toy?
Those that possess it, too, enjoy it least!
Worn but for others! Guilt's Asylum, Gold,
What? a false Shadow, of as false a Good!
Fame, what? and Titles?—Breath! and empty Names!
What, Learning? but the Boast, with Labour gain'd,
Of knowing something?—that was known before!
And are these worth a Wish! an anxious Sigh!
Thy chief Solicitude! which claims it best?
158
A Portion, spent on Earth? or stor'd, in Heav'n?
Th' important Difference, scan! deliberate! weigh!
Note the vast, vast, Disparity! between
A Portion, hastning from! or hastning to!
But hark! from all the distant Hamlets round,
The lively Bells have rais'd their early Peals
To welcome in the Feast of holy Joy.
The due Regards of Household Piety
Betimes exciting; ere their ready Trains,
On Sound more gravely solemn, all convene
In the full House of Pray'r, and Hearts commix
In Adorations social; reverent hear
His Message Christ's Evangelist unfold,
Rejoyc'd, with Fellow-Saints: One homeward Stage
Brought onward, happily, to native Skies;
A Sabbath's-Journey in their Way to Heav'n.
The lively Bells have rais'd their early Peals
To welcome in the Feast of holy Joy.
The due Regards of Household Piety
Betimes exciting; ere their ready Trains,
On Sound more gravely solemn, all convene
In the full House of Pray'r, and Hearts commix
In Adorations social; reverent hear
His Message Christ's Evangelist unfold,
Rejoyc'd, with Fellow-Saints: One homeward Stage
Brought onward, happily, to native Skies;
A Sabbath's-Journey in their Way to Heav'n.
What holds me then, but that with instant Pace,
On the first Summons, earliest, I return?
In the joint Duties timely to engage
Of household Piety; 'till with the Trains,
Call'd on more solemn Service, I convene
In the full House of Pray'r; with Heart commix'd
In Adorations social: reverent hear
His Message Christ's Evangelist unfold
Rejoycing; while in Saintly-Fellowship
To native Skies, in nearer Prospect still,
Brought sweetly on, a Homeward Stage I reach:
One Sabbath's-Journey, on my heavenly Way.
On the first Summons, earliest, I return?
In the joint Duties timely to engage
Of household Piety; 'till with the Trains,
Call'd on more solemn Service, I convene
In the full House of Pray'r; with Heart commix'd
In Adorations social: reverent hear
His Message Christ's Evangelist unfold
Rejoycing; while in Saintly-Fellowship
159
Brought sweetly on, a Homeward Stage I reach:
One Sabbath's-Journey, on my heavenly Way.
So if an Eaglet (practising for Strength
His wand'ring Wing) in mid Excursion hears
The careful Mother-Bird her Son recal:
To her known Signal back he speeds at once,
And on her Plumes, in Flight celestial borne,
High to the Sun on safer Pinnions soars.
His wand'ring Wing) in mid Excursion hears
The careful Mother-Bird her Son recal:
To her known Signal back he speeds at once,
And on her Plumes, in Flight celestial borne,
High to the Sun on safer Pinnions soars.
The End of the First Part.
The Meditation.
How fragrant is the Air of these delicious Fields! how sweet the surrounding Prospects! furnished out for my Entertainment, by the Hand of the God of Nature. Has he put so much Refreshment into every perfumed Breeze? Crouded such a variety of different, pleasing Colours, Shapes, and Essences into so many little Flowers? Given to such diversity of Fruits and Foods their contrary, yet grateful Flavours? Afforded such innumerable, multiform Prospects to engage the Eye, one single Sense? Such an interchange of Melodies to entertain the Ear? And contrived, by no less than five different Mediums or Senses, to give Gratification to the meer animal Faculties, which are by far the most ignoble Part of me, that I might behold him in this Glass of Nature? This Mirror of Wonders?
If I lift my Eyes upwards how shall I conceive of his awful Infinity? Who can place a World, ten thousand Times the Magnitude of ours, at so remote a Distance, as to appear but as a lucid Point, a little twinkling Star? If I bend them downwards, what Instances are every where of amazing Power, that could produce such an Appearance of Order, and Beauty, out of so mean and irregular a Collection of Dust, and Atoms? Hast thou provided such stately Furniture for these lowest Apartments of thy universal Palace, and for thy meanest Attendant? O what then are the Grandeurs that adorn thy Presence Chamber! What, those magnificent Mansions! where thou displayest the pleased Rays of thy beatific Glory, in the higher, and better Worlds!
Has created Goodness all these Beauties? A little earthly Spot on which I tread, and gaze (embellished with his least Adumbrations) so fair a Form? Such lovely Charms? O then, how much more infinitely lovely is he, who has given these Things all their loveliness! Who puts into them whatever Sweetness they contain, or can convey! These are but Copies, ah! faint Copies all! of the Goodness of their fair Original. Where is the perfect, uncreated Good? Where the enamouring Image of Loveliness itself? Where is the Original Beauty?—I can discern him in every thing around me: Discover, in every smallest Part of formed Matter, some vestigia of the Deity. The Former of these accomplished Works was also my Former. Where art thou? My all apparent yet unperceived Maker! How shall I hold converse with thee? How approach thee? Am I no better able to conceive of thee than these Trees? Those Brutes? This Clod that bears me? Am I not related to thee by Mind and Spirit? ordained a Priest of this thy mute Creation? Nay, am I not thine, by nearer Relation, and Union? The Brother and Associate, the Lover and Friend, of thy dear incarnate Son? A Member of his Body ? One with him , and thereby one with thee? Adopted in thy eternal Purpose! Regenerated by thy Spirit, and purchased to thyself by his Blood? Hath he said, I go to my Father and to your Father ? And shall I not then call thee my Father? And may I not converse with thee as a Father? Present every where, present always, present now? While thus I am surrounded with imagined Solitude and Secresy, and meditating, with delight, upon thy beauteous Works.
But O! what new Beauties and Pleasures does it put into every Scene, when I consider this World I am now viewing, is a Kingdom of my Father's! Mean as I am in my obscure Condition here, censured, overlooked, or despised, I am yet a royal Child, and the Inheriter of a glorious, a sure, tho' invisible Crown. Let the great vain Men of this Earth take their vanishing Portion; divide this contested Spot, into little, momentary, uncertain Possessions, which they falsly call their own; delude themselves with a conceited Happiness, and adore their sensual Idol. A little, little, little while, and the God I live to, and converse with here, my Father, and my God, will translate me to a State of far higher Honours. It is his good Pleasure to give me a Kingdom, incorruptible, undefiled, and which fadeth not away. (Characters opposite to this changing, polluted, and perishing Scene) reserved in Heaven for me. Here he is training me up by his Spirit, in the Princely Life and Temper, meeting me in the academic Retirements of Groves and Shades, till I am ripened for the opened Glories of my Coronation Day.
O! happy Retirement! O! heavenly Solitude! that always affords me the Presence of my Father, and God! where I may at all Times find thee, speak to thee, and receive the delightful Intercourses of thy Converse, and Love. Happy Poverty! where thou, never-failing Fountain of Fulness and Riches! art my inexhaustible Portion. Happy Banishment! that can at no smallest Distance ever separate me from thee. Happy Prison! where thy Society cannot, for one Moment, be excluded. Happy Bed of Sickness! where thou art continually by to cheer and support me. Happy Hour of Death! when my Spirit is expired but only into thy ever circling, and paternal Arms. Happy Condition! extending itself to all Places, all Circumstances, and thro' all Duration. Happy Creature! both here and for ever possessed. of the inseparable, intimate Presence and favour of A God. A Friend, A Father.
I have purposely introduced this Passage for the Consolation of pious, mourning Parents: For whom, by severest Experience of the same Trials, I have the tenderest Sympathy. The Scripture, here adverted to, affords the richest Comforts in such afflicting Seasons, the Death of Infants, who no doubt make a very numerous Part of the redeemed Family: Distinguished from the Confessors, described Chap. vi. 9th v. From the Penitents, C. v. and vii. From the whole Body of Believers, C. xix. And seem evidently marked out for Observation in this Place, by the exactest Characters, and fullest Descriptions.
Here follow the Verses promised in the Advertisement before the Work.
By Lea's dear Banks, where join'd in Play
My Youth's smooth Hours stole pleas'd away,
Late wand'ring: by Reflection prest;
Thus, taught the Friend, the mental Guest.
Sweet Stream! where most my Haunts delight
Whose Scenes to solemn Thought invite;
May my calm Life resemble thee,
Such Pleasure give, so useful be.
My Youth's smooth Hours stole pleas'd away,
Late wand'ring: by Reflection prest;
Thus, taught the Friend, the mental Guest.
Sweet Stream! where most my Haunts delight
Whose Scenes to solemn Thought invite;
May my calm Life resemble thee,
Such Pleasure give, so useful be.
As passing Straws and buoyant Leaves
Thy yeilding Surface, but, receives,
While Pearls that lure the searching Eye
Deep treasur'd, in thy Bosom lie:
May Trifles such Reception find;
Float, merely transient, on my Mind,
While weightier Thoughts Admission win,
Sinks its whole Depths, and rest within.
Thy yeilding Surface, but, receives,
While Pearls that lure the searching Eye
Deep treasur'd, in thy Bosom lie:
May Trifles such Reception find;
Float, merely transient, on my Mind,
While weightier Thoughts Admission win,
Sinks its whole Depths, and rest within.
As the large Face the Heav'ns expose
Thy pure, reflecting Mirrour shows,
Yet paints, in small, terrestial Scenes,
Some bordering Flowers or pendant Greens:
So, with Resemblances divine,
My copying Life direct to shine;
While Earth's faint Forms, grown distant—less—
Their fewer Images impress.
Thy pure, reflecting Mirrour shows,
Yet paints, in small, terrestial Scenes,
Some bordering Flowers or pendant Greens:
So, with Resemblances divine,
My copying Life direct to shine;
While Earth's faint Forms, grown distant—less—
Their fewer Images impress.
Teach me thy Constancy—to force
O'er Barrs, and Streights, a stubborn Course;
Not idly in Suspension held—
Thy Path not chang'd, tho' oft repell'd.
Thy Patience teach my ruffled Soul,
When, like thy Waves, its Motions roll:
Who vex'd to foam, while Passions fray,
Gentle, in Smiles soon pass away.
O'er Barrs, and Streights, a stubborn Course;
Not idly in Suspension held—
Thy Path not chang'd, tho' oft repell'd.
Thy Patience teach my ruffled Soul,
When, like thy Waves, its Motions roll:
Who vex'd to foam, while Passions fray,
Gentle, in Smiles soon pass away.
Teach me thy Rule of temp'rate Bliss,
Pleas'd, just thy flow'ry Banks to kiss:
Yet by no Sweets allur'd aside,
Till Ocean stops thy restless Tide.
O may'st thou Pattern wise dispense,
Mod'rate to taste the Charms of Sense!
Still pressing to my wish'd Abode,
Nor fix'd, till at my Centre—God.
Pleas'd, just thy flow'ry Banks to kiss:
Yet by no Sweets allur'd aside,
Till Ocean stops thy restless Tide.
O may'st thou Pattern wise dispense,
Mod'rate to taste the Charms of Sense!
Still pressing to my wish'd Abode,
Nor fix'd, till at my Centre—God.
I should be deeply concerned if, by any misconstruction, these Lines should be thought to reflect on a Sacred Order of Men, for whom I have, in common, the most real, affectionate Esteem. All religious Ceremonies, agreeing with gospel Simplicity, in our protestant established Church. All Stations of Dignity, Profit, &c. conducing either to the Credit or comfortable Discharge of the ministerial Function, the extending any Sphere of Usefulness, or that are the just Rewards of Piety and Merit, are far from being design'd as a least Part of the Subject in this Reprehension. Such Abuses of the holy Office, as I have only glanced at, are the Grief of all worthy Ministers and good Men. The securest Heart may tremble at the Denunciations, which God hath himself express'd, (six times in ten Verses) against such mercenary, idle and rapacious Shepherds. Ezek. xxxiv. from 1. to v. 11.
Milton has a Passage, in his Lycidas, exactly correspondent with mine; applied wholly to a Clergy of this corrupt, scandalous, and carnal Stamp.
------ Such, as for their Bellies sake
Creep, and intrude, and climb into the Fold.
Of other Care they little Reck'ning make,
Than how to scramble at the Shearer's Feast,
And drive away the worthy bidden Guest;
Blind Mouths! that scarce themselves know how to hold
A Sheep-hook, or have learn'd ought else the least.
That to the faithful Herdsman's Art belongs!
What recks it them? what need they? they are sped;
And, when they list, their lean, and flashy Songs
Grate on their scranel Pipes of wretched Straw.
The hungry Sheep look up, and are not fed,
But, swoln with Wind, and the rank Mist they draw,
Rot inwardly, and foul Contagion spread:
Besides what the grim Wolf with privy Paw
Daily devours apace; and nothing said—
Creep, and intrude, and climb into the Fold.
Of other Care they little Reck'ning make,
Than how to scramble at the Shearer's Feast,
And drive away the worthy bidden Guest;
Blind Mouths! that scarce themselves know how to hold
A Sheep-hook, or have learn'd ought else the least.
That to the faithful Herdsman's Art belongs!
What recks it them? what need they? they are sped;
And, when they list, their lean, and flashy Songs
Grate on their scranel Pipes of wretched Straw.
The hungry Sheep look up, and are not fed,
But, swoln with Wind, and the rank Mist they draw,
Rot inwardly, and foul Contagion spread:
Besides what the grim Wolf with privy Paw
Daily devours apace; and nothing said—
I would recommend it to all Persons under Conviction, and others, to read deliberately over Ezek. c. xxxvi. from the 20 v. to the End. Compared with Heb. c. viii. from v. 6. to v. 13.
161
II. THE Sacred Public Duties,
PART II. With those of the Family and Solitude.
162
CONTENTS.
Sunday, waking Reflections on the Advantages and Blessings of a Divine Revelation. The first Sabbath's Institution, with the Reasons of its Change. The Devotions of the Closet and Family, recommended. An Invitation to the Communion of Saints. A Digression hereupon, to Mr. Hervey and Dr. Young. On approaching the public Ordinances. Several Subjects of a Gospel Ministry enlarged on; with the Celebration of the two Christian Sacraments. The right Improvement of holy Time after a Return from the sacred Assemblies, and a moral, pathetic Complaint of the general Neglect and Abuses of it, and of our corrupt, irreligious Manners. Concluding with a suitable, solemn, and interesting Contemplation.
163
As one, belated on some perilous Road,
(Whom, a fresh Rumour of Night-Murder done
Thrills with sad Damp) at his own Tread dismay'd
Stops listning oft, then speeds him faster on:
If in the Window of some friendly Lodge
His Eye, at length, discerns a Taper's Gleam,
His Hope revives, fresh Courage steels his Heart.
So on his Way the heavenly Pilgrim bent:
Thro' the World's Waste, this howling Wild of Prey,
(Kept by the Murderer Satan fast in quest)
Looks to the Lamp of Gospel Promises;
In fainting Fears his Sustentation sweet,
Of Cordial full; with God his saving Strength,
A Shield to fend, a Sun to light and cheer;
With Christ, by gracious Imputation made
His Righteousness; that white imperial Robe
By Saintly-Sp'rits Regenerate worn, and pure:
Espous'd by Faith to Heaven's sole Heir the Lamb.
And in his Breast the holy Comforter
Inhabiting, with evidential Seals,
What shall he dread? tho' (from his Father's Home
Absent and far) Hell's Snares in Ambush thick
Beset his Path, what shall God's Fav'rite dread?
Thro' his worst Thralls assur'd to persevere.
(Whom, a fresh Rumour of Night-Murder done
Thrills with sad Damp) at his own Tread dismay'd
Stops listning oft, then speeds him faster on:
If in the Window of some friendly Lodge
His Eye, at length, discerns a Taper's Gleam,
His Hope revives, fresh Courage steels his Heart.
So on his Way the heavenly Pilgrim bent:
Thro' the World's Waste, this howling Wild of Prey,
(Kept by the Murderer Satan fast in quest)
164
In fainting Fears his Sustentation sweet,
Of Cordial full; with God his saving Strength,
A Shield to fend, a Sun to light and cheer;
With Christ, by gracious Imputation made
His Righteousness; that white imperial Robe
By Saintly-Sp'rits Regenerate worn, and pure:
Espous'd by Faith to Heaven's sole Heir the Lamb.
And in his Breast the holy Comforter
Inhabiting, with evidential Seals,
What shall he dread? tho' (from his Father's Home
Absent and far) Hell's Snares in Ambush thick
Beset his Path, what shall God's Fav'rite dread?
Thro' his worst Thralls assur'd to persevere.
The high Creator had his six Days Works
In Man compleated, Man the Crown of all;
Gracious, his seventh, th' approving Architect
(Not with that dread Solemnity with which
On thund'ring Sinai he promulg'd his Law
In Majesty of Terrour) view'd the Plan
All beauteous, and his hallow'd Rest ordain'd.
When our new Parents on his Sabbath's Morn
Existence, with Devotion's Acts began:
And eucharistic Sacrifice first paid
To their kind Former. Then the Morning Stars,
(Bright, eldest Servants of th' empyreal Courts)
Together sang, and with symphoneous Shout
From all his Worlds, the Sons of
God rejoic'd.
O! what a Sabbath that of heavenliest Bliss!
Angels, and Man on Earth, and God with Man
Inharmonis'd; the only such perhaps
By unfal'n Adam known, elaps'd so soon.
(Such the redeem'd, eternal, yet shall know)
But this, soon darken'd, by our first Offence,
Long since, the risen Saviour hath annul'd.
(Lord of the Sabbath , tho' the Son of Man)
That, soil'd, exchanging for his brighter Day.
In Man compleated, Man the Crown of all;
Gracious, his seventh, th' approving Architect
(Not with that dread Solemnity with which
On thund'ring Sinai he promulg'd his Law
In Majesty of Terrour) view'd the Plan
All beauteous, and his hallow'd Rest ordain'd.
When our new Parents on his Sabbath's Morn
Existence, with Devotion's Acts began:
And eucharistic Sacrifice first paid
To their kind Former. Then the Morning Stars,
(Bright, eldest Servants of th' empyreal Courts)
Together sang, and with symphoneous Shout
165
O! what a Sabbath that of heavenliest Bliss!
Angels, and Man on Earth, and God with Man
Inharmonis'd; the only such perhaps
By unfal'n Adam known, elaps'd so soon.
(Such the redeem'd, eternal, yet shall know)
But this, soon darken'd, by our first Offence,
Long since, the risen Saviour hath annul'd.
(Lord of the Sabbath , tho' the Son of Man)
That, soil'd, exchanging for his brighter Day.
Long cou'd not Death in weak-impris'ning Bands
(Impossible) the Lord of Life detain;
Nor the vain priestly Seal, nor Roman Watch.
(Pick'd Veterans, besure, of stoutest Heart;
No doubt inspected too by mingling Spies
Of Jewish Zealots, curious for th' Event;
The Priests themselves, perhaps, or trusted Friends)
Availess all; th' appointed third-days Morn
(First of the Week) had scarce unbarr'd the Skies,
Ere from th' etherial Portal downward sped
Th' Arch-Angel, on Commission, vast, dismiss'd
From Sov'reign Justice satisfy'd, to loose,
In full Display of due, judicial Form,
Our law freed Surety. With his Presence mov'd,
Earth, aw'd, and trembling for her guilty Sons
Deep at her Centre quak'd; while from the Tomb.
Back, in resentful Look, the pond'rous Stone
He roll'd: And on it with terrific State
Sat sternly passive, full in dreadful View:
Like Lightning shone his Visage, and his Robes
Of heavenliest Lustre foil'd th' unsullied Snow.
Where are the dauntless Guards? convuls'd with Fear
All shiv'ring, struck to Earth like lifeless Men!
Not so weak Mary, (Women, strong in Faith,
Shall shame a Host of trembling Infidels.)
Ah happy Females! as by Woman first
Came mortal Woe, so Tidings now of Life,
To Eve's recover'd Sons, ye first shall bear
In risen Jesus. Lo! the Lord appears;
Before the rest, to favour'd Magdalene;
(Oft finds the guiltiest Sinner signal Grace)
Then to th' Eleven, on the next First Day Eve
Met all for Prayer, convincive to the Test
Of Sight and Touch. Full forty blissful Days
Conversing, was he seen; revealing Laws
Of his new Kingdom , when his little Flock
To Bethany he led, ascending thence
With words of Blessing, visibly to Heav'n;
So to return again to waiting Saints.
(Impossible) the Lord of Life detain;
Nor the vain priestly Seal, nor Roman Watch.
(Pick'd Veterans, besure, of stoutest Heart;
No doubt inspected too by mingling Spies
Of Jewish Zealots, curious for th' Event;
The Priests themselves, perhaps, or trusted Friends)
Availess all; th' appointed third-days Morn
(First of the Week) had scarce unbarr'd the Skies,
Ere from th' etherial Portal downward sped
Th' Arch-Angel, on Commission, vast, dismiss'd
From Sov'reign Justice satisfy'd, to loose,
In full Display of due, judicial Form,
Our law freed Surety. With his Presence mov'd,
Earth, aw'd, and trembling for her guilty Sons
Deep at her Centre quak'd; while from the Tomb.
166
He roll'd: And on it with terrific State
Sat sternly passive, full in dreadful View:
Like Lightning shone his Visage, and his Robes
Of heavenliest Lustre foil'd th' unsullied Snow.
Where are the dauntless Guards? convuls'd with Fear
All shiv'ring, struck to Earth like lifeless Men!
Not so weak Mary, (Women, strong in Faith,
Shall shame a Host of trembling Infidels.)
Ah happy Females! as by Woman first
Came mortal Woe, so Tidings now of Life,
To Eve's recover'd Sons, ye first shall bear
In risen Jesus. Lo! the Lord appears;
Before the rest, to favour'd Magdalene;
(Oft finds the guiltiest Sinner signal Grace)
Then to th' Eleven, on the next First Day Eve
Met all for Prayer, convincive to the Test
Of Sight and Touch. Full forty blissful Days
Conversing, was he seen; revealing Laws
Of his new Kingdom , when his little Flock
To Bethany he led, ascending thence
With words of Blessing, visibly to Heav'n;
So to return again to waiting Saints.
Hail Morn! more sacred than Creation's Light,
When Jesus rose! accomplishing a Work
In Man's Redemption happier than his Birth.
Thee, holier Sabbath, may I rise to hail!
To sing thy Honours, and reprove a World
Forgetful of its Saviour! O what Pangs
My secret Thoughts have felt! the Griefs to view
Of slighted Sion; in the hallow'd Rest
Of Christ, dishonour'd! Now let Pity move,
(Let large Philanthropy for erring Man)
To win the Wand'rer from the Path of Death.
And thou, dear Spirit of God! so wont to bless
The Day of Jesus, quickning with thy Pow'r
The sin-dead Soul, regenerate by thy Word:
O! Teacher, Friend, and Comforter of Saints,
Smile on my Work of heart-felt Charity;
That to thy Influence, some at least, some Breast
May melt, and Angels taste a new-caus'd Joy.
When Jesus rose! accomplishing a Work
In Man's Redemption happier than his Birth.
167
To sing thy Honours, and reprove a World
Forgetful of its Saviour! O what Pangs
My secret Thoughts have felt! the Griefs to view
Of slighted Sion; in the hallow'd Rest
Of Christ, dishonour'd! Now let Pity move,
(Let large Philanthropy for erring Man)
To win the Wand'rer from the Path of Death.
And thou, dear Spirit of God! so wont to bless
The Day of Jesus, quickning with thy Pow'r
The sin-dead Soul, regenerate by thy Word:
O! Teacher, Friend, and Comforter of Saints,
Smile on my Work of heart-felt Charity;
That to thy Influence, some at least, some Breast
May melt, and Angels taste a new-caus'd Joy.
Christ's holy Pilgrim! wake! a Brother's Voice
Alarms thee, 'tis thy Duty's friendly Call.
Break from thy temperate Rest of Nature pure.
Of freest Thought, of stillest Silence calm,
Of sought Retirement 'tis thy choicest Hour.
In Secresy (like Moses) first thyself
Ascend the Mount alone, and prostrate there
With God, thy own, thy dear, thy vast Concerns
Transact; and taste the Parent-Kiss divine.
Then, mild, assemble next thy Houshold Charge,
(If Heav'n has will'd thee in a Trust so high)
Them to the Throne conduct, together bend,
Commingled Interests, banded in one Work,
One little, sweet Society of Love.
Their Morning Sacrifice, the great High Priest
Receiving, on his golden Altar laid,
Shall with his Incense offer; and return
The quested Blessings, from auspicious Skies.
Alarms thee, 'tis thy Duty's friendly Call.
Break from thy temperate Rest of Nature pure.
Of freest Thought, of stillest Silence calm,
Of sought Retirement 'tis thy choicest Hour.
In Secresy (like Moses) first thyself
Ascend the Mount alone, and prostrate there
With God, thy own, thy dear, thy vast Concerns
Transact; and taste the Parent-Kiss divine.
Then, mild, assemble next thy Houshold Charge,
(If Heav'n has will'd thee in a Trust so high)
Them to the Throne conduct, together bend,
168
One little, sweet Society of Love.
Their Morning Sacrifice, the great High Priest
Receiving, on his golden Altar laid,
Shall with his Incense offer; and return
The quested Blessings, from auspicious Skies.
See, on Augusta's tall, ascending Spires
The Lamp of Morn has shot his whitening Beam.
Fair Structures, rear'd for blest Religion's Use.
But where the living Temples shall I seek
Of God? where most his Presence loves to dwell,
Where Man? the favourite Sanctuary of Heav'n!
Some on the Bed of Sloth, in Sleep supine
False Rest indulging, or in Wine's mad Dream
Fast captiv'd, or the Folds of deadly Sin.
Some wakeful with th' Alarm of worldly Care,
Base Mammon; or on roving Pleasures call'd
Ill-tim'd, th' all holy Season to profane.
Can I not find the few? the pious few?
(Ah were their Numbers more!) whose Hearts prepar'd,
In Secret join the Fellow-Saints Above,
Leagu'd in their blest Employs, and well approv'd
By their all-seeing, gracious Father's Eye?
Can I not mix in Spirit with their Train?
Lift from dull Earth my Thoughts? from sensual Scenes?
And soar with kindred Minds to long'd-for Heav'n?
The Lamp of Morn has shot his whitening Beam.
Fair Structures, rear'd for blest Religion's Use.
But where the living Temples shall I seek
Of God? where most his Presence loves to dwell,
Where Man? the favourite Sanctuary of Heav'n!
Some on the Bed of Sloth, in Sleep supine
False Rest indulging, or in Wine's mad Dream
Fast captiv'd, or the Folds of deadly Sin.
Some wakeful with th' Alarm of worldly Care,
Base Mammon; or on roving Pleasures call'd
Ill-tim'd, th' all holy Season to profane.
Can I not find the few? the pious few?
(Ah were their Numbers more!) whose Hearts prepar'd,
In Secret join the Fellow-Saints Above,
Leagu'd in their blest Employs, and well approv'd
By their all-seeing, gracious Father's Eye?
Can I not mix in Spirit with their Train?
Lift from dull Earth my Thoughts? from sensual Scenes?
And soar with kindred Minds to long'd-for Heav'n?
169
Dear Hervey! oft, with whom communing sweet,
Our Souls associate (twin-born Souls are ours)
Cast in one Mould, cemented by one Taste,
Wrought to one Likeness, temper'd in one Flame,
Nurs'd by one Judgment, tutor'd to one Theme.
Dear, as if present to my visual Sense,
(Myst'ry of vulgar Minds) e'er ever seen;
How since endear'd! the Pow'rs of readiest Speech
An Eloquence like thine, would fail to tell.
Now absent, in ideal Sight retain'd,
With Friendship like fraternal Sympathy.
Where e'er thy long expected Labour new,
(Rich in choice Art,) thy Judgment meliorates
With height'ning Touches, delicate and pure,
In Prose, Ear-rapturing as the Voice of Song.
O might I but acquire thy happy Vein!
Correct as that cou'd teach, persuade, and please,
In the Love-impuls'd Thoughts that move my Lay!
Our Souls associate (twin-born Souls are ours)
Cast in one Mould, cemented by one Taste,
Wrought to one Likeness, temper'd in one Flame,
Nurs'd by one Judgment, tutor'd to one Theme.
Dear, as if present to my visual Sense,
(Myst'ry of vulgar Minds) e'er ever seen;
How since endear'd! the Pow'rs of readiest Speech
An Eloquence like thine, would fail to tell.
Now absent, in ideal Sight retain'd,
With Friendship like fraternal Sympathy.
Where e'er thy long expected Labour new,
(Rich in choice Art,) thy Judgment meliorates
With height'ning Touches, delicate and pure,
In Prose, Ear-rapturing as the Voice of Song.
O might I but acquire thy happy Vein!
Correct as that cou'd teach, persuade, and please,
In the Love-impuls'd Thoughts that move my Lay!
And thou! with ev'ry grateful Honour nam'd,
Last-living Glory of the British Muse,
Her Chariots! Horsemen! all her Grace and Strength!
Like the great Tishbite, almost left alone
The Prophet of thy God: whom, humbly aw'd
I follow, and thy Steps at Distance trace.
While, long the gentle Thomson laid in Earth,
Fair shrin'd, beneath his own fresh Laurels rests,
Shall I, O Young! conversing with thy Art,
My languid Taper kindle at thy Sun?
And flowing Numbers, Piety Heart-warm'd
Pathetic Tumult, all the Soul of Verse,
Nerv'd copious Sentiment, and quick'ning Fire
Catch from thy Page? whose single Worth shall save
The Genius of dishonour'd Poesy:
From barbarous Bands, the Vandal and the Goth
(To sink our Morals, with our Sense and Taste)
In squalid Legions swarming from the Press,
Like Egypt's Monsters, from the Mud of Nile.
Last-living Glory of the British Muse,
Her Chariots! Horsemen! all her Grace and Strength!
Like the great Tishbite, almost left alone
The Prophet of thy God: whom, humbly aw'd
I follow, and thy Steps at Distance trace.
While, long the gentle Thomson laid in Earth,
Fair shrin'd, beneath his own fresh Laurels rests,
170
My languid Taper kindle at thy Sun?
And flowing Numbers, Piety Heart-warm'd
Pathetic Tumult, all the Soul of Verse,
Nerv'd copious Sentiment, and quick'ning Fire
Catch from thy Page? whose single Worth shall save
The Genius of dishonour'd Poesy:
From barbarous Bands, the Vandal and the Goth
(To sink our Morals, with our Sense and Taste)
In squalid Legions swarming from the Press,
Like Egypt's Monsters, from the Mud of Nile.
If I with You, frail Adam's Sons at best,
In one original Pravation born!
If We, by Faith's elucidating Beam,
Heav'n-favour'd, have discern'd our Nature's Thrall,
Her Sickness, Impotence, and Bleeding Cure,
Which her Pride will not, Blindness cannot see,
Shall Pity be deny'd her Suit humane
For kindred Bondmen? Brethren, yet in Chains?
Shall not the feeling Heart, the weeping Eye
The suppliant Knee, their Succours intercede?
Their Freedom, at the Mediatorial Throne?
In one original Pravation born!
If We, by Faith's elucidating Beam,
Heav'n-favour'd, have discern'd our Nature's Thrall,
Her Sickness, Impotence, and Bleeding Cure,
Which her Pride will not, Blindness cannot see,
Shall Pity be deny'd her Suit humane
For kindred Bondmen? Brethren, yet in Chains?
Shall not the feeling Heart, the weeping Eye
The suppliant Knee, their Succours intercede?
Their Freedom, at the Mediatorial Throne?
The awful Time advances, and requires
Our earliest Presence at the Temple's Gates.
How meet the Service, when the solemn Hour
Calls to the House of Prayer, God's earthly Courts!
How dear th' assembled Family of Heav'n,
All Children of One Father, round the Throne
Presenting large their Wants, with joint Address,
By the lov'd Lord, their elder Brothers Hands!
How sweet to waft the Hymn of grateful Praise,
Loud Melody of Sion, and attend
The gracious Preacher, dropping Manna down,
The Bread of craving Souls. O fix me then!
(The heav'nly Dew thick-showering round my Tent)
Not in the Form of light Philosophy;
Those Metaphysic Figments crude and bold,
The Stagyrite's Dogma, or Platonic Dream;
Root to foul Heresies of eldest Growth.
Nor seat me, list'ning in Attention waste
On windy Sounds, the Rhetorician's Charm;
Or modish Reasoner's proud Theology:
When the meer moral Lesson aims to sooth
With Eloquence the vainly curious Ear.
Dead, tasteless Letter; which the heathen School
Of Seneca, or Tully, better teach,
Than dares best modern Orator to boast.
But place me where the true Evangelist,
Christ's Minister, the Gospel Page unfolds,
Full of Experience; where the piercing Word
May find the Sinner's Pride, and lay him deep
In humbling Terrors of the killing Law.
Then Faith, Repentance then, both Gifts of Heav'n,
Once deem'd so easy, seem his hardest Task.
Conviction gives no Power to conquer Sin,
The Work alone of Grace, this lets him see
His Danger, Wants, Dependance, Weakness, Strength.
Fresh from the Stores of sovereign, healing Love
The Blood of Jesus, ease-renewing Balm
To wounded Hearts, the kind Physician brings,
A welcom'd Cure; and lets th' Offender know
(Led thro' his Struggles of the second Birth)
Life-pleading Faith, that justifying Act,
(An empty Hand to clasp a tender'd Gift)
Faith (in its Object's Merit, not its own)
Shall win his Pardon with th' indulgent King:
His Pardon ample, everlasting, free:
(That can, ere Works, th' Ungodly justify,
Yet God be just: Christ's royal Donative,
His, made by Purchase, all by Gift made ours.)
Free, to the Chief of Sinners, to the Brand
Half-burning pluck'd from Hell, so large his Boon
To Man, tho' loaded with the worst of Crimes.
O Root of Hope! O Proof of heavenly Grace,
Too inconceivable for Worms below!
Behold! the Caitiff, (once) and view him chang'd;
How wond'rous! him, a sentenc'd Rebel late,
A Favourite now, belov'd! long Foe to God,
Now dearest Friend! a native Child of Wrath,
And now an Heir adopted! late a Slave
Of abject Hell, now own'd a Prince of Heav'n!
Our earliest Presence at the Temple's Gates.
How meet the Service, when the solemn Hour
Calls to the House of Prayer, God's earthly Courts!
171
All Children of One Father, round the Throne
Presenting large their Wants, with joint Address,
By the lov'd Lord, their elder Brothers Hands!
How sweet to waft the Hymn of grateful Praise,
Loud Melody of Sion, and attend
The gracious Preacher, dropping Manna down,
The Bread of craving Souls. O fix me then!
(The heav'nly Dew thick-showering round my Tent)
Not in the Form of light Philosophy;
Those Metaphysic Figments crude and bold,
The Stagyrite's Dogma, or Platonic Dream;
Root to foul Heresies of eldest Growth.
Nor seat me, list'ning in Attention waste
On windy Sounds, the Rhetorician's Charm;
Or modish Reasoner's proud Theology:
When the meer moral Lesson aims to sooth
With Eloquence the vainly curious Ear.
Dead, tasteless Letter; which the heathen School
Of Seneca, or Tully, better teach,
Than dares best modern Orator to boast.
But place me where the true Evangelist,
Christ's Minister, the Gospel Page unfolds,
Full of Experience; where the piercing Word
May find the Sinner's Pride, and lay him deep
In humbling Terrors of the killing Law.
172
Once deem'd so easy, seem his hardest Task.
Conviction gives no Power to conquer Sin,
The Work alone of Grace, this lets him see
His Danger, Wants, Dependance, Weakness, Strength.
Fresh from the Stores of sovereign, healing Love
The Blood of Jesus, ease-renewing Balm
To wounded Hearts, the kind Physician brings,
A welcom'd Cure; and lets th' Offender know
(Led thro' his Struggles of the second Birth)
Life-pleading Faith, that justifying Act,
(An empty Hand to clasp a tender'd Gift)
Faith (in its Object's Merit, not its own)
Shall win his Pardon with th' indulgent King:
His Pardon ample, everlasting, free:
(That can, ere Works, th' Ungodly justify,
Yet God be just: Christ's royal Donative,
His, made by Purchase, all by Gift made ours.)
Free, to the Chief of Sinners, to the Brand
Half-burning pluck'd from Hell, so large his Boon
To Man, tho' loaded with the worst of Crimes.
O Root of Hope! O Proof of heavenly Grace,
Too inconceivable for Worms below!
Behold! the Caitiff, (once) and view him chang'd;
How wond'rous! him, a sentenc'd Rebel late,
A Favourite now, belov'd! long Foe to God,
173
And now an Heir adopted! late a Slave
Of abject Hell, now own'd a Prince of Heav'n!
So if the Passenger some stately Pile,
Majestic Work, beholds, with vaulting Domes,
And Columns Tuscan or Corinthian, rear'd
Where Desart late was seen, or Ruins waste,
He stops, in Pleasure fix'd, in Wonder aw'd;
And owns the beauteous Transmutation strange,
Effect of Skill divine, of Godlike Pow'r.
Majestic Work, beholds, with vaulting Domes,
And Columns Tuscan or Corinthian, rear'd
Where Desart late was seen, or Ruins waste,
He stops, in Pleasure fix'd, in Wonder aw'd;
And owns the beauteous Transmutation strange,
Effect of Skill divine, of Godlike Pow'r.
Droop not, dejected Convert, oft' to feel
Corruption's rising Strife: True Christian Peace
Is earn'd by sharpest Toil. Faith must have Proof:
Heav'n always tries its Gift. Thy Fight, tho' hard,
Tho' long, (thro' many a Foil with deep Dismay
Sustain'd) the Truth will show of inward Grace:
Grace by its Trials only can be known.
Distrust thy own frail Power, but keep thy Eye
On thy great Captain for victorious Strength;
Fenc'd round by his Almighty Panoply
More shalt thou be than Conqu'rer, hardier grow
Thy holy Courage; then shall Joy divine,
Raptures unknown, dilate thy ravish'd Heart,
Known but to Saints, the Foretastes of their Heav'n.
Corruption's rising Strife: True Christian Peace
Is earn'd by sharpest Toil. Faith must have Proof:
Heav'n always tries its Gift. Thy Fight, tho' hard,
Tho' long, (thro' many a Foil with deep Dismay
Sustain'd) the Truth will show of inward Grace:
Grace by its Trials only can be known.
Distrust thy own frail Power, but keep thy Eye
On thy great Captain for victorious Strength;
Fenc'd round by his Almighty Panoply
More shalt thou be than Conqu'rer, hardier grow
Thy holy Courage; then shall Joy divine,
Raptures unknown, dilate thy ravish'd Heart,
Known but to Saints, the Foretastes of their Heav'n.
174
So when foul Night enraps the louring Air
In hideous Shade, the Winds with rocking Gust
Tempestuous Roar: while from the warring Clouds
Blaze livid Lightnings, and in frequent Peals
Bursts the dread Thunder—if at welcome Dawn
In radiant Calm ascends the smiling Sun,
All Nature opes her Sweets. the Fields and Flowers,
Drest in fresh Blooms, unusual Brightness wear,
And cheer the Senses with redoubled Charm.
In hideous Shade, the Winds with rocking Gust
Tempestuous Roar: while from the warring Clouds
Blaze livid Lightnings, and in frequent Peals
Bursts the dread Thunder—if at welcome Dawn
In radiant Calm ascends the smiling Sun,
All Nature opes her Sweets. the Fields and Flowers,
Drest in fresh Blooms, unusual Brightness wear,
And cheer the Senses with redoubled Charm.
Want'st thou unchang'd Tranquility below,
Life without Storm, a holy, pure, serene?
'Twou'd not be Earth: A State like this is Heav'n:
The golden Age of a fair World to come.
Sin, still in-dwelling, the regen'rate Mind
Oft combats; struggling for divested Power:
And rallying, with a Tyrant's desp'rate Rage
Encaptiv'd leads the Saint, too prone to yield.
But then the Pangs it costs him! what Remorse
Descriptionless, at ev'ry sad Review!
The deep-renew'd Repentance! warm with Faith,
That vital Principle, that ne'er shall fail.
His pitying Father in his Book records
His Sighs, and counts his safe-embottled Tears .
Yet this shall work his Good, by ruling Grace .
This lights up self-Acquaintance, opens more
His Labyrinth-Folds within, of hid Deceit.
His Nature's dread Revolt, his Guilt's Deserts,
His helpless Misery, tells, Corruption's Taint,
Black, ulcerous Sore, of Depth unsoundable;
The leprous Heart's hereditary Plague.
This the divine Physician more endears,
Shows him his Skill, his Faithfulness, his Love;
In-taught Experience gives him, of the Worth
Of his rich Pleadings, Righteousness, and Blood:
This keeps him humble, watchful more in Prayer;
Made, like Antæus, stronger by his Falls.
His Slips direct him (Sea-marks, set to warn
A safer Course) experienc'd how to steer.
Life without Storm, a holy, pure, serene?
'Twou'd not be Earth: A State like this is Heav'n:
The golden Age of a fair World to come.
Sin, still in-dwelling, the regen'rate Mind
Oft combats; struggling for divested Power:
And rallying, with a Tyrant's desp'rate Rage
Encaptiv'd leads the Saint, too prone to yield.
But then the Pangs it costs him! what Remorse
Descriptionless, at ev'ry sad Review!
The deep-renew'd Repentance! warm with Faith,
That vital Principle, that ne'er shall fail.
His pitying Father in his Book records
His Sighs, and counts his safe-embottled Tears .
Yet this shall work his Good, by ruling Grace .
This lights up self-Acquaintance, opens more
175
His Nature's dread Revolt, his Guilt's Deserts,
His helpless Misery, tells, Corruption's Taint,
Black, ulcerous Sore, of Depth unsoundable;
The leprous Heart's hereditary Plague.
This the divine Physician more endears,
Shows him his Skill, his Faithfulness, his Love;
In-taught Experience gives him, of the Worth
Of his rich Pleadings, Righteousness, and Blood:
This keeps him humble, watchful more in Prayer;
Made, like Antæus, stronger by his Falls.
His Slips direct him (Sea-marks, set to warn
A safer Course) experienc'd how to steer.
So if, enamouring Sense, a verdur'd Path,
Flatt'ring with water'd Walks, and arching Bowers,
For deadly Snare by some Enchanter made,
The Trav'ler lures from his intended Way,
Till the black Clouds appear, and setting Sun,
The conscious Wand'rer, sad in lost Dismay,
Turns back in Haste, his happy Road to gain;
Then marks each Step with more suspicious Care.
Flatt'ring with water'd Walks, and arching Bowers,
For deadly Snare by some Enchanter made,
The Trav'ler lures from his intended Way,
Till the black Clouds appear, and setting Sun,
The conscious Wand'rer, sad in lost Dismay,
Turns back in Haste, his happy Road to gain;
Then marks each Step with more suspicious Care.
Judge not (too rash) thy State, by present Frames;
Faith has its Flows, its Ebbs, and Dormancy:
May doubt like Thomas, may like Peter fall;
Its Habit safely six'd, its Acts unsure.
(Hypocrisy has oft her Fit of Zeal)
Wait on the Spirit's Witness, Truth to clear
By Luminations of th' unerring Word.
So on the Dial's Plane insculptur'd lie
The Hours unnotic'd, till the lucid Beam
Points to th' Enquirer out his Stage of Day.
Be oft' in self-Inspection, know thyself;
(Next thy blest Maker, next thy Saviour known)
Best, happiest Science Man can reach to know.
Faith has its Flows, its Ebbs, and Dormancy:
May doubt like Thomas, may like Peter fall;
Its Habit safely six'd, its Acts unsure.
(Hypocrisy has oft her Fit of Zeal)
176
By Luminations of th' unerring Word.
So on the Dial's Plane insculptur'd lie
The Hours unnotic'd, till the lucid Beam
Points to th' Enquirer out his Stage of Day.
Be oft' in self-Inspection, know thyself;
(Next thy blest Maker, next thy Saviour known)
Best, happiest Science Man can reach to know.
The Preacher's Merit rate not by thy Ear,
His Phrase, his Accent: mean Respect of Taste.
Taste is the childish Judgment's hum'rous Pride.
To Truth thy Reverence pay, and not its Dress;
Esteem him for his Embassy: the Blame
Of miss'd Improvement oftnest is our own.
Meer Planters are Apollos, and a Paul;
Growth is the Spirit's Gift, his virtual Act
Alone; his vital, germinating Dew
Shed in the Soul; his incremental Beam.
His Phrase, his Accent: mean Respect of Taste.
Taste is the childish Judgment's hum'rous Pride.
To Truth thy Reverence pay, and not its Dress;
Esteem him for his Embassy: the Blame
Of miss'd Improvement oftnest is our own.
Meer Planters are Apollos, and a Paul;
Growth is the Spirit's Gift, his virtual Act
Alone; his vital, germinating Dew
Shed in the Soul; his incremental Beam.
Make far, far Progress in Religion's Path:
Most at her Entrance stop, Truth's painful Way,
Lab'ring with Burden up the steep Ascent:
Weaken'd and faint with Sisiphean Toil.
Their Works not perfect: like the Babel Pile;
Or like the Web of fam'd Penelope,
By Night unravel'd, what was wrought by Day.
Wishful of settled Rest, be earnest thou,
Be arduous, be unwearied. Doubts, Complaints,
Rise from our negligent, our carnal Frames.
Weak Currents earliest feel the wintry Frost,
That never binds their busy, bubbling Springs.
Divorce thy Idols, those adult'rous Loves.
If Guile hold slend'rest Int'rest in thy Heart
Thy Course will slack, and ruffled grow thy Hope.
A crossing Bulrush in the limpid Brook
Its Stream will check, and fret its even Brow.
So the hurl'd Pebble in the silent Pool
Spreads a wide Circle to its farthest Shore.
Hast thou thy dearest Isaac sacrific'd?
Lodg'd in thy Bosom, a Heart-cherish'd Lust,
Warm Constitution's spar'd, her darling Sin?
All must be sold (get prov'd Sincerity)
All, for the Purchase of Heav'n's costly Pearl,
Gain of Assurance, Peace, and grounded Joy.
Most at her Entrance stop, Truth's painful Way,
Lab'ring with Burden up the steep Ascent:
Weaken'd and faint with Sisiphean Toil.
Their Works not perfect: like the Babel Pile;
Or like the Web of fam'd Penelope,
By Night unravel'd, what was wrought by Day.
Wishful of settled Rest, be earnest thou,
177
Rise from our negligent, our carnal Frames.
Weak Currents earliest feel the wintry Frost,
That never binds their busy, bubbling Springs.
Divorce thy Idols, those adult'rous Loves.
If Guile hold slend'rest Int'rest in thy Heart
Thy Course will slack, and ruffled grow thy Hope.
A crossing Bulrush in the limpid Brook
Its Stream will check, and fret its even Brow.
So the hurl'd Pebble in the silent Pool
Spreads a wide Circle to its farthest Shore.
Hast thou thy dearest Isaac sacrific'd?
Lodg'd in thy Bosom, a Heart-cherish'd Lust,
Warm Constitution's spar'd, her darling Sin?
All must be sold (get prov'd Sincerity)
All, for the Purchase of Heav'n's costly Pearl,
Gain of Assurance, Peace, and grounded Joy.
Are all converted? suits one general Stile
The Saint and Sinner? no just Diff'rence made?
This, to the cordial Promises of Life,
That, to the Threats of endless Death consign'd?
This, safe in Christ? endanger'd Alien that?
One, chang'd; approv'd in Works of living Faith?
The other, dead in loathsome Nature still?
The Saint and Sinner? no just Diff'rence made?
This, to the cordial Promises of Life,
That, to the Threats of endless Death consign'd?
This, safe in Christ? endanger'd Alien that?
One, chang'd; approv'd in Works of living Faith?
The other, dead in loathsome Nature still?
The Saint, how sometimes need his wand'ring Steps
The questing Shepherd's kind restoring Care.
The Sheep of Christ, shall one be ever lost?
In their Lord's Hand eternally secure .
Yet these the Gospel Pastor must reclaim.
The distant, grossly stray'd, alarm with Fear:
Their Danger from th' infernal prouling Wolf,
Watchful to spoil them; while compassionate,
His Voice shou'd Lamb-like Hearts more softly call;
Gently reduct, their strengthless Faintings cheer,
And rest them, safely lodg'd, within the Fold.
178
The Sheep of Christ, shall one be ever lost?
In their Lord's Hand eternally secure .
Yet these the Gospel Pastor must reclaim.
The distant, grossly stray'd, alarm with Fear:
Their Danger from th' infernal prouling Wolf,
Watchful to spoil them; while compassionate,
His Voice shou'd Lamb-like Hearts more softly call;
Gently reduct, their strengthless Faintings cheer,
And rest them, safely lodg'd, within the Fold.
O Israel's Shepherd! How admir'd thy Love!
The Cares for thy backsliding Fugitive!
How wond'rous! that enlarge thy pitying Heart,
Ev'n in the Wilderness thy Flock to leave,
Thy whole, dear Flock, to seek one Wand'rer lost!
One, poor, lost, single Wand'rer! worthless Charge!
Borne in thy tender Arms rejoycing Home.
The Cares for thy backsliding Fugitive!
How wond'rous! that enlarge thy pitying Heart,
Ev'n in the Wilderness thy Flock to leave,
Thy whole, dear Flock, to seek one Wand'rer lost!
One, poor, lost, single Wand'rer! worthless Charge!
Borne in thy tender Arms rejoycing Home.
Preacher of in-felt Trials, hear him tell
The Sorrows and Supports of tempted Souls.
How God upholds 'em, by his secret Hand
Mysterious, in the long, foul, loud, Night-storm
Of dark Desertion! O! the sure, safe stay,
Recumbence on Paternal Deity!
Black Hour of Terrors! when th' assaulted Thoughts
With Satan conflict, and his firey Darts
Christ's trembling Soldier roil, in hell-bred Fray.
By suff'ring Patience, by Belief's try'd Shield
Best warded, and the might of conq'ring Prayer.
Sharp Warfare! to my Faith severely known.
The Sorrows and Supports of tempted Souls.
How God upholds 'em, by his secret Hand
Mysterious, in the long, foul, loud, Night-storm
179
Recumbence on Paternal Deity!
Black Hour of Terrors! when th' assaulted Thoughts
With Satan conflict, and his firey Darts
Christ's trembling Soldier roil, in hell-bred Fray.
By suff'ring Patience, by Belief's try'd Shield
Best warded, and the might of conq'ring Prayer.
Sharp Warfare! to my Faith severely known.
Well shall the skilful Teacher bend his Pains
The thoughtless Mind to rouze by awes of Death;
When Angels minist'ring, or waiting Fiends
To order'd Worlds shall parting Souls convey,
Uncertain Summons, soon to pass-on All!
—To warn of Judgment, strict-accounting-Time
For trusted Talents, Life's important Charge.
—Of heav'nly Crowns to tell, of penal Chains,
Endless Duration. (O Eternity!
Thou vast Idea!)—In conceited Hearts
Lull'd into stupid Safety, unrenew'd,
To humble Nature's fleshly Confidence,
Chief bar to Christ.—To shake Formality,
False-trusted Rest.—Clear Scripture Marks to show
For Man's self-Proof, his safe or dang'rous State.
The Privileges of th' adopted Heir,
Union with Jesus, Nuptial Fellowship,
Assurance, filial Liberty, Access
With free, with holy Boldness, near the Throne.
Nor less shall it advantage him to learn
His needful Cautions, Pride in heav'nly Gifts,
Fond worldly Love, Remissness in his Watch,
Slips, sure Fore-runners of a shameful Fall.
The thoughtless Mind to rouze by awes of Death;
When Angels minist'ring, or waiting Fiends
To order'd Worlds shall parting Souls convey,
Uncertain Summons, soon to pass-on All!
—To warn of Judgment, strict-accounting-Time
For trusted Talents, Life's important Charge.
—Of heav'nly Crowns to tell, of penal Chains,
Endless Duration. (O Eternity!
Thou vast Idea!)—In conceited Hearts
Lull'd into stupid Safety, unrenew'd,
To humble Nature's fleshly Confidence,
Chief bar to Christ.—To shake Formality,
False-trusted Rest.—Clear Scripture Marks to show
For Man's self-Proof, his safe or dang'rous State.
The Privileges of th' adopted Heir,
Union with Jesus, Nuptial Fellowship,
Assurance, filial Liberty, Access
With free, with holy Boldness, near the Throne.
180
His needful Cautions, Pride in heav'nly Gifts,
Fond worldly Love, Remissness in his Watch,
Slips, sure Fore-runners of a shameful Fall.
The right Dispenser of the saving Word,
Studious of Heaven's high Will the Whole to know,
The Whole to teach, himself a living Rule,
No Tenet of the Writ inspir'd conceals.
By Praise unmov'd, contemning Man's Contempt,
(O Fame, best slighted! O exalting Scorn!)
He courts no Patron, no loud Censure fears.
Tho' the dread Glories of the Father's Name,
And his dear Counsels deep, of antient Love:
Tho' God the Spirit, his Personality,
His Teachings, in-felt Presence, Joys, and Aids
(Truths, brightly obvious thro' the Scripture Page,
Howe'er disown'd in our Apostate Day:)
Tho' Jesu's Natures, Merit, Offices,
His mean, and glorious Advent, Cross, and Crown,
Tho' these lead most, best lead the sacred Theme;
Yet Righteousness, the Christian's Rule of Life,
What forms his Temper, sanctifying Truths,
Heav'n's Scribe neglects not, Lessons sweet to Saints.
(All holy his Elect, belov'd of God .)
Doctrine and Practice, Faith and answ'ring Fruits,
Inherent Rectitude that fits for Heav'n,
How well ye mingle! Works, how well enforc'd
By Gospel Motives! Laws of Christ, the King,
Studious of Heaven's high Will the Whole to know,
The Whole to teach, himself a living Rule,
No Tenet of the Writ inspir'd conceals.
By Praise unmov'd, contemning Man's Contempt,
(O Fame, best slighted! O exalting Scorn!)
He courts no Patron, no loud Censure fears.
Tho' the dread Glories of the Father's Name,
And his dear Counsels deep, of antient Love:
Tho' God the Spirit, his Personality,
His Teachings, in-felt Presence, Joys, and Aids
(Truths, brightly obvious thro' the Scripture Page,
Howe'er disown'd in our Apostate Day:)
Tho' Jesu's Natures, Merit, Offices,
His mean, and glorious Advent, Cross, and Crown,
Tho' these lead most, best lead the sacred Theme;
Yet Righteousness, the Christian's Rule of Life,
What forms his Temper, sanctifying Truths,
Heav'n's Scribe neglects not, Lessons sweet to Saints.
(All holy his Elect, belov'd of God .)
Doctrine and Practice, Faith and answ'ring Fruits,
Inherent Rectitude that fits for Heav'n,
How well ye mingle! Works, how well enforc'd
181
The Preacher's Task is done.—Employment new
Has call'd him, on his ministerial Toil.
Ye conscientious Parents, O! be found,
Amid th' Assembly congregate and full,
Your Infant Race presenting; to receive
Appointed Baptism's Initial Rite.
Free Members made, by this inducting Sign,
Of the Church visible.—Your Lambs repose
In the mild Shepherds Arms: see, where he waits!
With Pray'rs, and holy Washings mistical
His little Vot'ry-Flock to dedicate;
A living grateful Sacrifice to God,
An Off'ring sweet! on Christ, the Altar, laid
That sanctifies the Gift. Heav'n's Sovereign, pleas'd,
Affixes now himself the binding Seal
To his own faithful Cov'nant; that insures
Pardon, Adoption, Grace, regenerate Pow'rs,
His Spirit's Energy; here typify'd
By the pure sprinkled Element. Christ, giv'n!
(Prefigur'd in this sacramental Act,
Its Truth and Substance) with his saving Fruits,
Suff'rings, and Merits: Blessings how divine!
On thee, Believer! and thy holy Seed,
All he entails. Ah! how mistook, by those
That the blest Laver from their Babes withhold,
Who Gospel Converts make less priviledg'd
Than legal Circumcision; and deny
Their hapless Children free-born Fœderal Rights,
That rigid Law to bondag'd Jews allows.
Wake now in ev'ry Soul more filial Light,
More glad'ning Sentiment! Each humbled Heart
Make, fitly, of it's own once-plighted Oath
Fresh Recognition! while we joyntly bend
The grateful Knee! Faiths solemn Pomp to close.
Father of boundless Mercies! this thy Love
To helpless Man, and his polluted Race,
Thy thankful Church adores! On our young Band
Of Brethren, thy new-listed Militants
(Who in thy gracious Ord'nance have received
Regeneration figurative) O shed
That! with thy Gifts in Pledge, there signify'd,
In large Effusion! This, our Work fulfill'd
Of Charity, by Warrant from thy Word,
Kindly accept! as on their Parts, and Ours,
Homage, and Praise: with vow'd Obedience due!
Has call'd him, on his ministerial Toil.
Ye conscientious Parents, O! be found,
Amid th' Assembly congregate and full,
Your Infant Race presenting; to receive
Appointed Baptism's Initial Rite.
Free Members made, by this inducting Sign,
Of the Church visible.—Your Lambs repose
In the mild Shepherds Arms: see, where he waits!
With Pray'rs, and holy Washings mistical
His little Vot'ry-Flock to dedicate;
A living grateful Sacrifice to God,
An Off'ring sweet! on Christ, the Altar, laid
That sanctifies the Gift. Heav'n's Sovereign, pleas'd,
Affixes now himself the binding Seal
To his own faithful Cov'nant; that insures
Pardon, Adoption, Grace, regenerate Pow'rs,
His Spirit's Energy; here typify'd
By the pure sprinkled Element. Christ, giv'n!
(Prefigur'd in this sacramental Act,
Its Truth and Substance) with his saving Fruits,
Suff'rings, and Merits: Blessings how divine!
On thee, Believer! and thy holy Seed,
All he entails. Ah! how mistook, by those
That the blest Laver from their Babes withhold,
182
Than legal Circumcision; and deny
Their hapless Children free-born Fœderal Rights,
That rigid Law to bondag'd Jews allows.
Wake now in ev'ry Soul more filial Light,
More glad'ning Sentiment! Each humbled Heart
Make, fitly, of it's own once-plighted Oath
Fresh Recognition! while we joyntly bend
The grateful Knee! Faiths solemn Pomp to close.
Father of boundless Mercies! this thy Love
To helpless Man, and his polluted Race,
Thy thankful Church adores! On our young Band
Of Brethren, thy new-listed Militants
(Who in thy gracious Ord'nance have received
Regeneration figurative) O shed
That! with thy Gifts in Pledge, there signify'd,
In large Effusion! This, our Work fulfill'd
Of Charity, by Warrant from thy Word,
Kindly accept! as on their Parts, and Ours,
Homage, and Praise: with vow'd Obedience due!
The gentle Innocents are with their Trains
To native Roofs dismiss'd.—But wilt Thou go?
Go yet so soon? from thy best Blessings haste?
Lo! that rich Table! where the Bread of Life,
Spread by All-pitying Goodness, open stands
To Wretches, famish'd with Sin-pining Wants:
Lost Prodigals, with Favour welcom'd Home,
The King himself is enter'd; from his Host
Of prostrate Angels that more distant wait,
How gracious, see! he moves to mortal Friends!
How kindly, hark! to ev'ry Guest he calls!
Ah! wherefore wou'dst thou fly? he calls to Thee,
Poor trembling Sinner, pale with causeless Fears.
To thee heart-humbled Publican, self-deem'd
Unfit, unworthiest, welcome therefore most.
Stay—thy mild Sov'reign bids thee—taste his Feast,
Will'd thee by Love, his dying, dear Command.
—But why, intruding Stranger, tarriest Thou?
Proud Pharisee, without the Wedding Robe,
Censorious, hateful Spy, of Life unclean?
Why thou, mask'd Hypocrite? dissembled Friend?
With trait'rous Kiss re-acting Judas' Guile.
Wretch! Thou? whom Gain of secular Employ
Alone has brought, the Banquet to profane?
Bold Innovator, unprepar'd and vile!
Expect! the Lord of his dishonour'd Board
Shall note thee, and pronounce vindictive Doom.
To native Roofs dismiss'd.—But wilt Thou go?
Go yet so soon? from thy best Blessings haste?
Lo! that rich Table! where the Bread of Life,
Spread by All-pitying Goodness, open stands
To Wretches, famish'd with Sin-pining Wants:
Lost Prodigals, with Favour welcom'd Home,
183
Of prostrate Angels that more distant wait,
How gracious, see! he moves to mortal Friends!
How kindly, hark! to ev'ry Guest he calls!
Ah! wherefore wou'dst thou fly? he calls to Thee,
Poor trembling Sinner, pale with causeless Fears.
To thee heart-humbled Publican, self-deem'd
Unfit, unworthiest, welcome therefore most.
Stay—thy mild Sov'reign bids thee—taste his Feast,
Will'd thee by Love, his dying, dear Command.
—But why, intruding Stranger, tarriest Thou?
Proud Pharisee, without the Wedding Robe,
Censorious, hateful Spy, of Life unclean?
Why thou, mask'd Hypocrite? dissembled Friend?
With trait'rous Kiss re-acting Judas' Guile.
Wretch! Thou? whom Gain of secular Employ
Alone has brought, the Banquet to profane?
Bold Innovator, unprepar'd and vile!
Expect! the Lord of his dishonour'd Board
Shall note thee, and pronounce vindictive Doom.
The Bread is blest: reach forth thy thankful Hand
And take—“Memorial of thy dying Lord.”
Not Transubstantiate, Blood, and Flesh, and Bone,
Whole, very Christ, Rome's Idol, big with Sin:
Nor as Consubstant with the Elements
By partial Presence, Luther's dark Deceit:
Nor yet as meer Exemplar, dream'd by some
Traducive of his Glory: more, be thine,
Sacrifical Remembrance, of the Price
Our Ransom; paid in Blood for deadliest Guilt.
Oh! hide thy shame-spread Face, and turn thy Eyes
In mournful Prospect back to Calv'ry now,
Back to the Garden, to the dolorous Ground
Grief-moisten'd with his Bloood-sweat Agony.
Ah! what that Agony?—ah! felt for whom?—
Say, Angel ! near him then, that heard, beheld,
Thy humbled Maker, agoniz'd thyself)
What—but Thou can'st not say!—no Thought can pierce
Of Man or Angel that profound of Pains!
'Twas his Soul's Travail, Sorrow's sharpest Throe,
'Twas Love's Delivery of a new-born World.
Miraculous! from dead now living born.
Fix, Meditation! still, thy Tear-brim'd Eye!
From Earth he rises, rise and follow thou
Thy Jesu still, (tho' left of ev'ry Friend)
To Annas', Herod's, Pilate's guilty Hall,
His triple Cavalcade of solemn Scorn.
Oh! thro' what Streights of shifting pageant Woes!
Slow, linger'd, studied Miseries! matchless all!
Stoop'd thou to Suff'rings, patient Son of God!
How meek he stands the Charge of venal Tongues!
Lamb-like before his cruel Shearers dumb.
But ah! behold him now! behold him bound
(Tho' faultless own'd) by his unrighteous Judge!
Abus'd by Buffetings (by Taunts, that loud
His dread Omniscience dare) with Scourges torn;
To Injuries, mocking join'd, and rude Contempt,
His Sceptre-Reed, and bloody thorny-Crown.
Ah still behold! if thou can'st bear the View,
See! thy dear Sacrifice, beneath his Cross
(Like typeal Isaac) bending with its Weight!
Merc'less! all fainting, to the baleful Tree
They nail my Jesus!—whelm'd in bitt'rest Woes,
And Dereliction! Sport of hellish Jews.
—Ah! brand not Jews, our Sins (procuring Cause)
Thy Sins, Believer! wrought his Change of Woes,
Thy Sins and Mine! these forc'd his sanguine Sweat,
Rent him with Stripes, six'd deep the bloody Thorn,
Mark'd him with Blows, expos'd his sacred Face
To Shame and Spitting; drove the wounding Nails
Deep-tort'ring, in his streaming Feet and Hands:
Thrust thro' his Spear-pierc'd Heart the murd'ring Steel;
And urg'd his Soul to Pains!—to Cries!—to Death?
And take—“Memorial of thy dying Lord.”
Not Transubstantiate, Blood, and Flesh, and Bone,
Whole, very Christ, Rome's Idol, big with Sin:
Nor as Consubstant with the Elements
By partial Presence, Luther's dark Deceit:
Nor yet as meer Exemplar, dream'd by some
184
Sacrifical Remembrance, of the Price
Our Ransom; paid in Blood for deadliest Guilt.
Oh! hide thy shame-spread Face, and turn thy Eyes
In mournful Prospect back to Calv'ry now,
Back to the Garden, to the dolorous Ground
Grief-moisten'd with his Bloood-sweat Agony.
Ah! what that Agony?—ah! felt for whom?—
Say, Angel ! near him then, that heard, beheld,
Thy humbled Maker, agoniz'd thyself)
What—but Thou can'st not say!—no Thought can pierce
Of Man or Angel that profound of Pains!
'Twas his Soul's Travail, Sorrow's sharpest Throe,
'Twas Love's Delivery of a new-born World.
Miraculous! from dead now living born.
Fix, Meditation! still, thy Tear-brim'd Eye!
From Earth he rises, rise and follow thou
Thy Jesu still, (tho' left of ev'ry Friend)
To Annas', Herod's, Pilate's guilty Hall,
His triple Cavalcade of solemn Scorn.
Oh! thro' what Streights of shifting pageant Woes!
Slow, linger'd, studied Miseries! matchless all!
Stoop'd thou to Suff'rings, patient Son of God!
How meek he stands the Charge of venal Tongues!
Lamb-like before his cruel Shearers dumb.
But ah! behold him now! behold him bound
(Tho' faultless own'd) by his unrighteous Judge!
185
His dread Omniscience dare) with Scourges torn;
To Injuries, mocking join'd, and rude Contempt,
His Sceptre-Reed, and bloody thorny-Crown.
Ah still behold! if thou can'st bear the View,
See! thy dear Sacrifice, beneath his Cross
(Like typeal Isaac) bending with its Weight!
Merc'less! all fainting, to the baleful Tree
They nail my Jesus!—whelm'd in bitt'rest Woes,
And Dereliction! Sport of hellish Jews.
—Ah! brand not Jews, our Sins (procuring Cause)
Thy Sins, Believer! wrought his Change of Woes,
Thy Sins and Mine! these forc'd his sanguine Sweat,
Rent him with Stripes, six'd deep the bloody Thorn,
Mark'd him with Blows, expos'd his sacred Face
To Shame and Spitting; drove the wounding Nails
Deep-tort'ring, in his streaming Feet and Hands:
Thrust thro' his Spear-pierc'd Heart the murd'ring Steel;
And urg'd his Soul to Pains!—to Cries!—to Death?
Early to Man the dying Sacrifice
His saving Merits reach'd. Ah! why to Man?
Why to lost Man? yet not to Angels lost?
Angels! Heav'n's noblest First-born! Heirs of Love!
Man! vain, vile Prodigal! the younger Son?
Why to one Convert-Sufferer, on the Cross?
And not his Fellow? why to vilest Jews!
Those very Jews who late, with wicked Hands,
The Saviour slew? (by Peter's Sermon turn'd
At Pentecost) and not to Jewish Priests?
Those guilty Rulers? and all Israel's Race?
Why, chosen Sinner! Miscreant! why to thee
This Grace? and not a whole degenerate World?
Unfathomable Thought! Love's Myst'ry all!
His saving Merits reach'd. Ah! why to Man?
Why to lost Man? yet not to Angels lost?
Angels! Heav'n's noblest First-born! Heirs of Love!
Man! vain, vile Prodigal! the younger Son?
Why to one Convert-Sufferer, on the Cross?
And not his Fellow? why to vilest Jews!
186
The Saviour slew? (by Peter's Sermon turn'd
At Pentecost) and not to Jewish Priests?
Those guilty Rulers? and all Israel's Race?
Why, chosen Sinner! Miscreant! why to thee
This Grace? and not a whole degenerate World?
Unfathomable Thought! Love's Myst'ry all!
Still, Mercy waits thee.—Take: “The saving Cup”,
To him, of bitt'rest Sorrows, fill'd with Wrath;
To thee, of rich Redemption, dearly bought.
Blessings assur'd; the Covenant in his Blood
Seal'd with the Father. He, to be a God,
To thee a God, all-comprehending Tie:
Thou, to be his, devoted: happiest Bond!
Drink; the sweet Pledge of Union, Sonship, Bliss.
O Cordial! felt mysterious in the Soul;
Law, dreadful Justice, Conscience, Satan, Guilt,
All silenc'd, by one Draught from Jesu's Love!
To him, of bitt'rest Sorrows, fill'd with Wrath;
To thee, of rich Redemption, dearly bought.
Blessings assur'd; the Covenant in his Blood
Seal'd with the Father. He, to be a God,
To thee a God, all-comprehending Tie:
Thou, to be his, devoted: happiest Bond!
Drink; the sweet Pledge of Union, Sonship, Bliss.
O Cordial! felt mysterious in the Soul;
Law, dreadful Justice, Conscience, Satan, Guilt,
All silenc'd, by one Draught from Jesu's Love!
Touch'd, captiv'd, raptur'd, aw'd, all extasy'd!
All lost! in trembling Wonder, thy Embrace
I meet, thou heavenly Bridegroom ! ah! repeat,
My Life! my Sweetness! those connubial Vows
(Soft, as when first the Sounds betroth'd my Soul)
“Thy Maker is thy Husband” . O! repeat
Earth, Air, and Skies th' eternal Echoes round,
“Thy Maker is thy Husband”!—'tis for Words
(Th' o'erwhelming Bliss) too vast! for Thought too full!
Ye Nymphs of Solyma, my bridal Friends,
That view my shudd'ring Pangs, my speechless Joy,
Tell my Soul's Lord, the too too lovely—(ah!
By Pity's Softness I adjure ye!) tell
My Prince! my Charmer!—I am sick of Love.
Turn thy sweet Eyes away! their Beams o'erpower,
With Ravishments too soft, my fainting Sight!
—Yet hold me near Thee; set me as a Seal,
Deep on thy dear dear Heart! for strong as Death
Are the fond Ardours of impatient Love;
More cruel than the Grave, its Jealousy.
—And art thou mine? the dread, dear Lover mine?
Th' espousing God?—ah me! a worthless Bride!
How base, how poor! bow prostrate Thoughts in Praise,
In grateful Thanks: with all thy purest Fires,
Flame, kindled Heart: bend Choice, Affections, Will;
Be wholly his the Life his Pity sav'd.
All lost! in trembling Wonder, thy Embrace
I meet, thou heavenly Bridegroom ! ah! repeat,
My Life! my Sweetness! those connubial Vows
187
“Thy Maker is thy Husband” . O! repeat
Earth, Air, and Skies th' eternal Echoes round,
“Thy Maker is thy Husband”!—'tis for Words
(Th' o'erwhelming Bliss) too vast! for Thought too full!
Ye Nymphs of Solyma, my bridal Friends,
That view my shudd'ring Pangs, my speechless Joy,
Tell my Soul's Lord, the too too lovely—(ah!
By Pity's Softness I adjure ye!) tell
My Prince! my Charmer!—I am sick of Love.
Turn thy sweet Eyes away! their Beams o'erpower,
With Ravishments too soft, my fainting Sight!
—Yet hold me near Thee; set me as a Seal,
Deep on thy dear dear Heart! for strong as Death
Are the fond Ardours of impatient Love;
More cruel than the Grave, its Jealousy.
—And art thou mine? the dread, dear Lover mine?
Th' espousing God?—ah me! a worthless Bride!
How base, how poor! bow prostrate Thoughts in Praise,
In grateful Thanks: with all thy purest Fires,
Flame, kindled Heart: bend Choice, Affections, Will;
Be wholly his the Life his Pity sav'd.
188
Go, Christian! with th' endearing Pledges seal'd
Fresh on thy Soul, resembling Pattern show
How Jesus liv'd; thy lov'd and loving Lord.
Go, copy his Humility, his Zeal
To glorify his Father, his Contempt
Of vain, base Earth; Disciple of his Cross.
His Temp'rance copy, Resignation, Truth:
His Meekness, Pity, large Benevolence:
His godlike Fortitude, firm Constancy:
His Love of holy Privacy and Prayer.
Go, happy Fav'rite, feed his pining Poor,
Silent in patient Want; the friendless Poor,
His suff'ring Int'rest (by the selfish World
Neglected) Merit little mark'd below.
Thy Saviour-Judge, thy love-remember'd Work
With echoed Eugé shall applaud, and crown.
Fresh on thy Soul, resembling Pattern show
How Jesus liv'd; thy lov'd and loving Lord.
Go, copy his Humility, his Zeal
To glorify his Father, his Contempt
Of vain, base Earth; Disciple of his Cross.
His Temp'rance copy, Resignation, Truth:
His Meekness, Pity, large Benevolence:
His godlike Fortitude, firm Constancy:
His Love of holy Privacy and Prayer.
Go, happy Fav'rite, feed his pining Poor,
Silent in patient Want; the friendless Poor,
His suff'ring Int'rest (by the selfish World
Neglected) Merit little mark'd below.
Thy Saviour-Judge, thy love-remember'd Work
With echoed Eugé shall applaud, and crown.
Shall not this Rite the Charity enlarge.
Of Brethren, differing by Dissensions small?
Differing, not disunited; Members still
Of one, same Body: Branches in one Vine:
Christ's Fold, tho' many: all but one, his Spouse.
Spirit of Grace! Peace-breathing Paraclete;
Thy Children nearer bring, bring nearer yet
In love thy Saints. This bridal Supper make
Their Eucharist, their Agape: of Joy
The Season known, a Feast of heavenly Friends.
Of Brethren, differing by Dissensions small?
Differing, not disunited; Members still
Of one, same Body: Branches in one Vine:
Christ's Fold, tho' many: all but one, his Spouse.
Spirit of Grace! Peace-breathing Paraclete;
Thy Children nearer bring, bring nearer yet
In love thy Saints. This bridal Supper make
Their Eucharist, their Agape: of Joy
The Season known, a Feast of heavenly Friends.
189
O Lamb of God! self-humbled, once, to Death
On the vile Cross! when? in exalted Pomp,
When? to thy whole Elect, shalt thou return
With full Salvation? to that Day thy Church
Looks from these sad Memorials. Lamb of God!
Haste, to be more admir'd by joyful Saints.
On the vile Cross! when? in exalted Pomp,
When? to thy whole Elect, shalt thou return
With full Salvation? to that Day thy Church
Looks from these sad Memorials. Lamb of God!
Haste, to be more admir'd by joyful Saints.
O Lamb of God. By thy once-offer'd Blood
Here represented, offer'd once for all,
Perfect thy holy People; keep the Flock,
Thy dying Purchase, by thy wakeful Eye
And Presence, hourly guarding. Lamb of God!
Here often meet them, and record their Vows.
Here represented, offer'd once for all,
Perfect thy holy People; keep the Flock,
Thy dying Purchase, by thy wakeful Eye
And Presence, hourly guarding. Lamb of God!
Here often meet them, and record their Vows.
The solemn Myst'ries cease.—The Pastor, hear!
With awful Mien, and Lips of Grace, has clos'd
The parting Benediction.—But is all,
All ended?—all?—is now the vacant Time
For trifling Visits? for the vain Discourse
Of worldly Friends? by nearer Int'rests claim'd,
The Calls, domestick, of intrusted Souls.
The soft Companion of thy Life's vow'd Hours,
Where, where is She? thy other dearer self?
Where her lov'd Offspring? Wedlock's sweetest Bonds,
Pledges of mutual Faith, of chastest Joys?
Invite 'em round thee by a Father's Voice,
That Voice of mildest, soft Authority.
Examine! teach! exhort them! warn! reprove!
Their Instrument of Being, ah! be mov'd,
Be rous'd, be arduous for their highest Weal.
So the fond Couples of the plumy Race
Teach, with joint Pains, their cherish'd Young to fly;
Around the little artless Broods they watch,
With flutt'ring Hearts; and by Example kind
Instruct them, frequent, thro' the treacherous Woods,
Where safe to stretch, where slack th' experienc'd Wing.
O Education! are thy tend'rest Laws
Expell'd the Parent's Heart? where then is Love?
Paternal Love, that first of Laws, O where?
Where Nature's strongest Instinct felt of all?
And hast thou One, within thy menial Charge,
One left (by Servitude's inferior Place)
O'erlook'd, neglected in thy partial Thought?
Subordination meer, of Man to Man.
Name of corporeal Difference, not of Souls:
Souls have one Essence, one congenial Life,
One Dignity, one Worth: in Heav'n's high Kin,
Nearest affinited; one Spirit breath'd
Their Virtues eminent, immortal, pure,
Impress of Deity: one hapless Fall
In Guilt enthrall'd 'em, one rich Blood redeem'd.
By Dust thy Brethren too, thy Flesh, thy Bone,
Parts of thy dread Account, thy awful Trust:
Parts of thy common Nature:—shall not these
(Careful for thee) excite a grateful Strife?
Of due Returns, some generous Heaven-warm'd Zeal?
Large, best Returns, a Master's worthiest Care.
Ah! drop Distinction now, while call'd to serve
One heavenly Master in thy House of Faith.
By common Wants, by common Mercies join'd,
Join in Petitions too, in mutual Praise.
With awful Mien, and Lips of Grace, has clos'd
The parting Benediction.—But is all,
All ended?—all?—is now the vacant Time
For trifling Visits? for the vain Discourse
Of worldly Friends? by nearer Int'rests claim'd,
The Calls, domestick, of intrusted Souls.
The soft Companion of thy Life's vow'd Hours,
Where, where is She? thy other dearer self?
Where her lov'd Offspring? Wedlock's sweetest Bonds,
Pledges of mutual Faith, of chastest Joys?
Invite 'em round thee by a Father's Voice,
190
Examine! teach! exhort them! warn! reprove!
Their Instrument of Being, ah! be mov'd,
Be rous'd, be arduous for their highest Weal.
So the fond Couples of the plumy Race
Teach, with joint Pains, their cherish'd Young to fly;
Around the little artless Broods they watch,
With flutt'ring Hearts; and by Example kind
Instruct them, frequent, thro' the treacherous Woods,
Where safe to stretch, where slack th' experienc'd Wing.
O Education! are thy tend'rest Laws
Expell'd the Parent's Heart? where then is Love?
Paternal Love, that first of Laws, O where?
Where Nature's strongest Instinct felt of all?
And hast thou One, within thy menial Charge,
One left (by Servitude's inferior Place)
O'erlook'd, neglected in thy partial Thought?
Subordination meer, of Man to Man.
Name of corporeal Difference, not of Souls:
Souls have one Essence, one congenial Life,
One Dignity, one Worth: in Heav'n's high Kin,
Nearest affinited; one Spirit breath'd
Their Virtues eminent, immortal, pure,
Impress of Deity: one hapless Fall
In Guilt enthrall'd 'em, one rich Blood redeem'd.
By Dust thy Brethren too, thy Flesh, thy Bone,
Parts of thy dread Account, thy awful Trust:
191
(Careful for thee) excite a grateful Strife?
Of due Returns, some generous Heaven-warm'd Zeal?
Large, best Returns, a Master's worthiest Care.
Ah! drop Distinction now, while call'd to serve
One heavenly Master in thy House of Faith.
By common Wants, by common Mercies join'd,
Join in Petitions too, in mutual Praise.
Retire—o'erlabour not Youth's feebler Strength
Thy Cares devolve on safe maternal Trust.
Thy Task is done. To freer Scenes retire;
For lonely Joys, for solitary Sweets,
For friendliest Counsels with the mental Pow'r
Yet, while deep-wand'ring in the Paths of Thought,
If not so well the Chamber's cloyst'ring Walls
Thy Health or Temper suit, as open Skies,
Or in the Garden, or sequestring Field,
(Not where throng'd Numbers range for graceless Mirth)
At large thy meditating Walk pursue;
Reposing, 'gainst thy Hours of future Want,
The treasur'd Word with faithful Memory.
So Jesus oft' to Gethsemane's Shades,
Or some still Mountain's Heights, alone wirhdrew.
Religious Musings may the pious Breast
Raise from this Earth, this lower House of
God:
Heav'n's costly Cabinet, of Wonders full.
What ever some, of rigid Sanctity
(So misconceiv'd) have taught, to gloom the Mind,
Forbidding ev'ry harmless Use of Sense,
Corrupting Christ's by Jewish Discipline
Now vacated, use wisely thou thy Grant
Of Gospel Liberty: all Place is free;
God, not the Place considers, but the Heart.
Yet, have a Care! thy own frail Weakness know;
Know, and be watchful: to th' unguarded Saint,
Oft', Solitude proves worst Scoiety.
Fear that unseen Observer, than thyself
More intimately present, and with him
Converse, in sweet ejaculated Prayer.
O sweetest Converse! O Grace-strength'ning Pray'r!
Best Work in private of the love-born Soul.
But if thy Mate, or home-left Family
Still, near demand thee; if the sick-pain'd Friend,
The Widow, or all helpless Fatherless
Thy Visit need, thy lonely Haunts refrain:
Seek others Welfare readier than thy own;
Most, pure Religion dwells with Charity.
In this be like thy Saviour: Pattern fair
Of heavenliest Virtues, labouring Good to All.
Thy Cares devolve on safe maternal Trust.
Thy Task is done. To freer Scenes retire;
For lonely Joys, for solitary Sweets,
For friendliest Counsels with the mental Pow'r
Yet, while deep-wand'ring in the Paths of Thought,
If not so well the Chamber's cloyst'ring Walls
Thy Health or Temper suit, as open Skies,
Or in the Garden, or sequestring Field,
(Not where throng'd Numbers range for graceless Mirth)
At large thy meditating Walk pursue;
Reposing, 'gainst thy Hours of future Want,
The treasur'd Word with faithful Memory.
So Jesus oft' to Gethsemane's Shades,
Or some still Mountain's Heights, alone wirhdrew.
Religious Musings may the pious Breast
192
Heav'n's costly Cabinet, of Wonders full.
What ever some, of rigid Sanctity
(So misconceiv'd) have taught, to gloom the Mind,
Forbidding ev'ry harmless Use of Sense,
Corrupting Christ's by Jewish Discipline
Now vacated, use wisely thou thy Grant
Of Gospel Liberty: all Place is free;
God, not the Place considers, but the Heart.
Yet, have a Care! thy own frail Weakness know;
Know, and be watchful: to th' unguarded Saint,
Oft', Solitude proves worst Scoiety.
Fear that unseen Observer, than thyself
More intimately present, and with him
Converse, in sweet ejaculated Prayer.
O sweetest Converse! O Grace-strength'ning Pray'r!
Best Work in private of the love-born Soul.
But if thy Mate, or home-left Family
Still, near demand thee; if the sick-pain'd Friend,
The Widow, or all helpless Fatherless
Thy Visit need, thy lonely Haunts refrain:
Seek others Welfare readier than thy own;
Most, pure Religion dwells with Charity.
In this be like thy Saviour: Pattern fair
Of heavenliest Virtues, labouring Good to All.
These are the Pleasures, in Religion's Paths
(Blest Paths of Safety) to be only found.
And will deluded Man, perverse of Heart,
Self-cruel, on the World's infested Wilds
Risque for vain Toys the Jewel of his Soul?
View that tumultuous Road! how thick appear
The Sons of sportive Folly! bent on Speed,
When Heaven's high Wisdom bids a sacred Rest!
Perverting, in that Breach, his kind Decree,
Ease to the labour'd Creature; haply some
Shall, ere return, his dire Resentments feel,
Death-smit (how frequent) by Disaster sore.
View those ill-peopled Fields! the thoughtless Throng!
All, on unseemly Recreations drawn!
What Swarms! of ev'ry Rank, and Sex, and Age!
Vagrants from Sion all, God's humbler Throne.
Ah! better far a Day, an happy Hour,
One heavenly Moment, in thy blissful Courts,
Than Ages, lavish'd in their impious Joy.
Dread Charge! of precious Seasons vainly spent,
Or lost in sensual Indolence at home.
Others, the Bands of bolder Riot, view!
Sunk in Debauches o'er th' intemperate Glass.
Or loud in Feuds, or clamorous Levity;
In Oaths, in Revels wasting sacred Time
To decent Silence due, and public Peace:
Too oft' in dismal Consequences rued;
Disease, neglected Families, and Loss
Of strict paternal Government, Youth's Bane.
Presumptuous Insult on almighty Pow'r!
Contemptuous Scorn of sov'reign Will! that Power!
Heard in the Thunder, in the Light'ning seen,
Felt in the angry Winds.—his Goodness too
Lives free diffus'd through wide Creation's Space.
And dares weak Man! dependent, subject Man,
Affront the Law of God? his Maker's Law?
His Governor? his Judge? dares the vile Worm,
Reptile of Earth, defy the Lord of Heav'n?
(Blest Paths of Safety) to be only found.
193
Self-cruel, on the World's infested Wilds
Risque for vain Toys the Jewel of his Soul?
View that tumultuous Road! how thick appear
The Sons of sportive Folly! bent on Speed,
When Heaven's high Wisdom bids a sacred Rest!
Perverting, in that Breach, his kind Decree,
Ease to the labour'd Creature; haply some
Shall, ere return, his dire Resentments feel,
Death-smit (how frequent) by Disaster sore.
View those ill-peopled Fields! the thoughtless Throng!
All, on unseemly Recreations drawn!
What Swarms! of ev'ry Rank, and Sex, and Age!
Vagrants from Sion all, God's humbler Throne.
Ah! better far a Day, an happy Hour,
One heavenly Moment, in thy blissful Courts,
Than Ages, lavish'd in their impious Joy.
Dread Charge! of precious Seasons vainly spent,
Or lost in sensual Indolence at home.
Others, the Bands of bolder Riot, view!
Sunk in Debauches o'er th' intemperate Glass.
Or loud in Feuds, or clamorous Levity;
In Oaths, in Revels wasting sacred Time
To decent Silence due, and public Peace:
Too oft' in dismal Consequences rued;
Disease, neglected Families, and Loss
Of strict paternal Government, Youth's Bane.
Presumptuous Insult on almighty Pow'r!
194
Heard in the Thunder, in the Light'ning seen,
Felt in the angry Winds.—his Goodness too
Lives free diffus'd through wide Creation's Space.
And dares weak Man! dependent, subject Man,
Affront the Law of God? his Maker's Law?
His Governor? his Judge? dares the vile Worm,
Reptile of Earth, defy the Lord of Heav'n?
O native Britain! Land of Gospel Light!
Fav'rite of Heav'n! professing purest Truth!
Seat of mild Liberty to Vice abus'd!
Justly, dear Parent! do thy virtuous Sons
Drop o'er thy Matron-Neck the conscious Tear;
Of thy insensate, iron Progeny
The griev'd Spectators: vex'd (like upright Lot
In Wrath-doom'd Sodom) while our mourning Streets
The nightly Lewdness shames, the raging Oaths
Of Blasphemy, and Circe's bestial Throng.
While Music in the sober Hours of Morn
Effeminates our Isle; Waste, Luxury,
And Sloth engend'ring; Sloth, worst social Ill!
He, who his Sabbath Rest ordain'd, enjoins
Thy Six Days Labour: Sloth subverts his Law.
Lamented View! while on the devious Stage
Lewd Comedy, in loose intriguing Dress
(Degenerate from the antient, worthier Scene)
Appears, seductive of the Youthful Heart;
While (blush to Manners) on the midnight Sleep
In Revels, wakes th' infernal Masquerade,
Transplanted Vice of modern Italy,
Sink of dark Superstition, Sloth and Sin.
Shall not, for Guilt like this, long patient Heav'n
In Judgments visit?—O'er the slumb'ring Realm
Has shook (already felt) its milder Rod.
Already War has thinn'd thy numerous Sons,
In Death left welt'ring on a foreign Plain.
Rebellion, worst domestic Fiend! has rag'd
Thy frighted Cities round: and through thy Herds
Long wasting Murrain, threat'ning ghastly Want,
Has breath'd Contagion; breaths her Threat'ning still.
Should Locusts, summoning thy Harvest Fields
Their Legions call! (whose Scouts have late been sent
To spy thy Coasts) should broad-wing'd Pestilence
Her Millions sweep away! Or from beneath
Earthquakes their Horrors wake in tenfold Strength!
Such, but more fatal as have twice forewarn'd
Thy pale Inhabitants, Alarming Thought!
How big with Potent! Oh! provok'd at last!
Shall not, for Guilt impenitent? for Guilt
Accumulate like thine, long-patient Heav'n
Rise terribly vindictive? doom-full rise
To smite, to waste a vain-professing Land?
Fav'rite of Heav'n! professing purest Truth!
Seat of mild Liberty to Vice abus'd!
Justly, dear Parent! do thy virtuous Sons
Drop o'er thy Matron-Neck the conscious Tear;
Of thy insensate, iron Progeny
The griev'd Spectators: vex'd (like upright Lot
In Wrath-doom'd Sodom) while our mourning Streets
The nightly Lewdness shames, the raging Oaths
Of Blasphemy, and Circe's bestial Throng.
While Music in the sober Hours of Morn
Effeminates our Isle; Waste, Luxury,
And Sloth engend'ring; Sloth, worst social Ill!
He, who his Sabbath Rest ordain'd, enjoins
Thy Six Days Labour: Sloth subverts his Law.
Lamented View! while on the devious Stage
Lewd Comedy, in loose intriguing Dress
(Degenerate from the antient, worthier Scene)
Appears, seductive of the Youthful Heart;
195
In Revels, wakes th' infernal Masquerade,
Transplanted Vice of modern Italy,
Sink of dark Superstition, Sloth and Sin.
Shall not, for Guilt like this, long patient Heav'n
In Judgments visit?—O'er the slumb'ring Realm
Has shook (already felt) its milder Rod.
Already War has thinn'd thy numerous Sons,
In Death left welt'ring on a foreign Plain.
Rebellion, worst domestic Fiend! has rag'd
Thy frighted Cities round: and through thy Herds
Long wasting Murrain, threat'ning ghastly Want,
Has breath'd Contagion; breaths her Threat'ning still.
Should Locusts, summoning thy Harvest Fields
Their Legions call! (whose Scouts have late been sent
To spy thy Coasts) should broad-wing'd Pestilence
Her Millions sweep away! Or from beneath
Earthquakes their Horrors wake in tenfold Strength!
Such, but more fatal as have twice forewarn'd
Thy pale Inhabitants, Alarming Thought!
How big with Potent! Oh! provok'd at last!
Shall not, for Guilt impenitent? for Guilt
Accumulate like thine, long-patient Heav'n
Rise terribly vindictive? doom-full rise
To smite, to waste a vain-professing Land?
Ah! pitied Blindness of apostate Man,
Made to be only in his Maker blest,
Yet can in All, in all Things Pleasure know
But his dear Former: willing to be known,
His to be known; his Portion, Father, Guide;
His present Guardian-Friend, and final Good.
O Goodness! all Parental! Father still
Of Man thy Creature, Man, though fall'n, not lost;
Enoch cou'd walk with thee, and Abraham; Worms
With Deity; frail Dust with mighty God.
Why may not now frail Dust in Favour walk?
Why not vile me? thy Pity's Miracle,
Wonder of Guilt, from foulest Life reclaim'd,
A willing Vot'ry, though thy feeblest Child?
O! let down somewhat of thy heavenly Self
In this dark Breast, this Hell-benighted Heart!
Parent of Life divine, some vital Beam!
In Privacies, my frequent lonely Walk,
By Hill, by Field, by Willow-arbour'd Brook,
By twilight Paths of Woods with Closet Shade,
Alone from ev'ry Eye (yet least alone
With thee all present Father, mild of Grace)
Thou deign'st me sweet Communion; while I breathe
(With Love-uplifted Hands, and Eyes, and Soul)
To thy Communion sweet, Returns I breathe
In prostrate Thought, and Vows, and murmur'd Prayer.
—He whispers to my deepest Solitude,
In Pressures of my loneliest, saddest Thought,
“Be undismay'd; thy God is present here,
Is nigh, is with thee
; though through whelming Floods,
Thro' Fires, thy Path is mark'd: distress'd, and try'd,
The Friend omnipotent, thy guardian Strength
Accompanies thy Steps; is with thee still.”—
I trust thy Promises, I plead them o'er,
I urge them often on my sinking Heart,
I drink into their Sweetness deep, and taste
Their Ravishments, and feel their Cordial Powers.
—Ye Hills! ye Fields! clear, willow-arbour'd Brook!
And Woods with twilight Paths of Closet Shade!
Lov'd Haunts, that my celestial Solaces
Have seen, so oft' have heard my filial Vows,
Be Witness to those Interviews divine.
Records of favour'd Seasons, fast imprest
On grateful Memory: like the votive Stones
In Luz, by solitary Jacob rear'd
To Padan journeying—These to meditate,
Thro' the dark Lab'rinths of my Pilgrimage
Shall cheer its sablest Glooms, its heaviest Hours.
By Jesus manumis'd from hellish Bonds,
A sentenc'd Slave, the ransom'd in his Blood,
O dear Emanuel! (God in human Flesh
Intabernacled strange) my remnant Days
(Few Days, alas! of conscious Evil full)
Shall all in Acts of Love be vow'd to thee.
Health, Action, Powers, will I be only thine:
Soul, Flesh, thy Creature, consecrated all:
Thy Servant, only thine, redeeming Lord!
By Choice the self devoted to thy Fear.
Made to be only in his Maker blest,
196
But his dear Former: willing to be known,
His to be known; his Portion, Father, Guide;
His present Guardian-Friend, and final Good.
O Goodness! all Parental! Father still
Of Man thy Creature, Man, though fall'n, not lost;
Enoch cou'd walk with thee, and Abraham; Worms
With Deity; frail Dust with mighty God.
Why may not now frail Dust in Favour walk?
Why not vile me? thy Pity's Miracle,
Wonder of Guilt, from foulest Life reclaim'd,
A willing Vot'ry, though thy feeblest Child?
O! let down somewhat of thy heavenly Self
In this dark Breast, this Hell-benighted Heart!
Parent of Life divine, some vital Beam!
In Privacies, my frequent lonely Walk,
By Hill, by Field, by Willow-arbour'd Brook,
By twilight Paths of Woods with Closet Shade,
Alone from ev'ry Eye (yet least alone
With thee all present Father, mild of Grace)
Thou deign'st me sweet Communion; while I breathe
(With Love-uplifted Hands, and Eyes, and Soul)
To thy Communion sweet, Returns I breathe
In prostrate Thought, and Vows, and murmur'd Prayer.
—He whispers to my deepest Solitude,
In Pressures of my loneliest, saddest Thought,
“Be undismay'd; thy God is present here,
197
Thro' Fires, thy Path is mark'd: distress'd, and try'd,
The Friend omnipotent, thy guardian Strength
Accompanies thy Steps; is with thee still.”—
I trust thy Promises, I plead them o'er,
I urge them often on my sinking Heart,
I drink into their Sweetness deep, and taste
Their Ravishments, and feel their Cordial Powers.
—Ye Hills! ye Fields! clear, willow-arbour'd Brook!
And Woods with twilight Paths of Closet Shade!
Lov'd Haunts, that my celestial Solaces
Have seen, so oft' have heard my filial Vows,
Be Witness to those Interviews divine.
Records of favour'd Seasons, fast imprest
On grateful Memory: like the votive Stones
In Luz, by solitary Jacob rear'd
To Padan journeying—These to meditate,
Thro' the dark Lab'rinths of my Pilgrimage
Shall cheer its sablest Glooms, its heaviest Hours.
By Jesus manumis'd from hellish Bonds,
A sentenc'd Slave, the ransom'd in his Blood,
O dear Emanuel! (God in human Flesh
Intabernacled strange) my remnant Days
(Few Days, alas! of conscious Evil full)
Shall all in Acts of Love be vow'd to thee.
Health, Action, Powers, will I be only thine:
198
Thy Servant, only thine, redeeming Lord!
By Choice the self devoted to thy Fear.
Thus the poor, feathery Captive, hard escap'd
With Life th' ensnaring Fowler's deadly Wile,
With flutt'ring Bosom hastes, (her timorous Wing
Unbating) till of happy Covert sure,
Hid in her cloyst'ring Bow'r: there, safe at Rest,
The Fear-deliver'd-Wand'rer, sooth'd and calm'd,
In her sweet Shelter sits: too warn'd to roam:
Then, swells her Note with more exulting Joy.
With Life th' ensnaring Fowler's deadly Wile,
With flutt'ring Bosom hastes, (her timorous Wing
Unbating) till of happy Covert sure,
Hid in her cloyst'ring Bow'r: there, safe at Rest,
The Fear-deliver'd-Wand'rer, sooth'd and calm'd,
In her sweet Shelter sits: too warn'd to roam:
Then, swells her Note with more exulting Joy.
The End of the Second Part.
Luke xv. 4. In these discouraging Circumstances the Christian may relieve himself from another Passage, exceedingly consolatory, Jer. iii. from 12 to 24 V.
The bold, and familiar Metaphors used throughout this Paragraph, tho' differing from the common Idioms of Speech among us, are, the current Language of Scripture, and genuine Sense of it; customary to the Conceptions, and Expressions of devout Minds: and it is hoped, will be admitted, and understood by every Christian.
Isaiah liv. 5. I would affectionately recommend to the pious, believing Reader's Perusal, this amazing Passage, down to Verse 11. than which, I think, there is not any one more remarkably, and singularly comforting in the whole sacred Scriptures.
199
III. EVENING EMPLOYMENT.
PART III. On the subsequent and closing Duties, Recollection, Self-Examination, and the several Offices of Charity.
200
CONTENTS.
Invocation to the Blessed Spirit. Evening Worship ended. Enquiry of its Effects on the Heart. The Duties of Charity instanced and enforced; closed with an Encomium of the active Christian. Sun Setting described, Twilight, Night and Stars. Several Conjectures mention'd, with the Folly of such Enquiries; introducing an Episode in the History of an exemplary Noble Penitent. A Moonlight Scene. Retiring to Rest, with the Prayer. A Midnight Contemplation on the Eternal Sabbath. A Vision, in Sleep, of a departed Saint. Discourses with it, on the Nature of the Soul, its Individuation, Præ-existence, and universal Redemption. The Spirits Answers, reproving such Speculation, and exhorting to others more useful: to further which it give a Prospect of Heaven, and selects three Instances for Observation; a glorified Saint released from a State of Poverty; one that had been a notorious Sinner; and a third who died in Despondency. A Complaint on the Vision's ceasing. The Spirit's consolatory Speech, with Rules for a holy Life. On the Question, if Friends know each other in Glory? It discovers itself and departs. Exciting a pathetical Meditation, which ends the Whole.
201
Come holy Visitant, celestial Guide,
Spirit divine, of God! (not less thy Self;
Essential Deity:) whose strength'ning Hand
Thro' the still Wand'rings of my Morning's Walk
And holier Duties, in thy House engag'd
Homeward my feebly-fainting Steps has brought
To my last Period now, of Sabbath Hours.
Come, with thy wonted Aids to close my Theme!
With thy fresh Breathings on th' instructed Muse,
Thy consecrated Gift!—As vital Gales,
Thro' the Reeds whisp'ring in the Heat of Day,
Sooth in lost Thought the list'ning Traveler's Ear
Tir'd with his painful Road, so feel my Pow'rs
Thy quick'ning Influence, that e'er while deprest
As with some fatal Omen, half resolv'd
No more to travel in Parnassian Soil,
Tho' sweet; a Map with many a Fairy Spot,
Illusively, in pleasing Prospect mark'd,
Mocking th' Advent'rer's Search: So shadowy all
Has prov'd my Way; a Desart, beat with Storms:
Hope, almost out of Sight, that show'd me once
My Land of Rest; and naked, wintry Age
Threat'ning me near (unshelter'd and ill sped)
With Cares, and Wants, her numerous growing Brood,
Like the Night Mists my Heel fast gath'ring on.
But thy Life-cheering Voice, Omnipotent!
Speaker of Comfort strange! allures me forth
To one more Labour due; perhaps my last!
For Something bodes me so, of sad, within.
Unless, late flow'ring in Life's barren Path,
Some Sweet unlook'd-for, some autumnal Rose
At length I pluck, that Daughter of the Thorn.
Spirit divine, of God! (not less thy Self;
Essential Deity:) whose strength'ning Hand
Thro' the still Wand'rings of my Morning's Walk
And holier Duties, in thy House engag'd
Homeward my feebly-fainting Steps has brought
To my last Period now, of Sabbath Hours.
Come, with thy wonted Aids to close my Theme!
With thy fresh Breathings on th' instructed Muse,
Thy consecrated Gift!—As vital Gales,
Thro' the Reeds whisp'ring in the Heat of Day,
Sooth in lost Thought the list'ning Traveler's Ear
Tir'd with his painful Road, so feel my Pow'rs
202
As with some fatal Omen, half resolv'd
No more to travel in Parnassian Soil,
Tho' sweet; a Map with many a Fairy Spot,
Illusively, in pleasing Prospect mark'd,
Mocking th' Advent'rer's Search: So shadowy all
Has prov'd my Way; a Desart, beat with Storms:
Hope, almost out of Sight, that show'd me once
My Land of Rest; and naked, wintry Age
Threat'ning me near (unshelter'd and ill sped)
With Cares, and Wants, her numerous growing Brood,
Like the Night Mists my Heel fast gath'ring on.
But thy Life-cheering Voice, Omnipotent!
Speaker of Comfort strange! allures me forth
To one more Labour due; perhaps my last!
For Something bodes me so, of sad, within.
Unless, late flow'ring in Life's barren Path,
Some Sweet unlook'd-for, some autumnal Rose
At length I pluck, that Daughter of the Thorn.
The Church's Rites, her last Solemnities
Are fully ended: Twice in Public paid,
Her Claim maternal. What returning Trains
Flock from the Sanctuary! a graceful Sight.
Some, for Heav'n's Favour, on the Duty done
Resting their Christless Hope. Some posting, fast,
To Walks, to Company; o'erjoy'd to find
Their Task discharg'd, and anxious how to lose
The least Impressions, recent on the Heart.
But whether hasten'st thou, thy after-Work
Of Recollection grateful, to begin?
What are thy Frames? has the keen, piercing Word
Reach'd Home, and fasten'd in thy Soul; its Mark?
When Christ is preaching on the Gospel Mount,
At his Descent, the Leper shall be cleans'd.
Trembled thy Conscience when the firey Law
Flash'd its red Threat'nings? who? what Angel-Strength?
What Fortitude invincible can bear
When God is angry?—bow'd thy willing Ear
To the mild Tenders of thy Saviour-King?
Are thy Hopes rais'd, thy misty Damps all clear'd
By the bright Promises, and Unbelief
In their warm Sun-shine melted sweetly down?
To his State-Rooms of Ordinances brought,
Thro' their pure Lattice have I seen my Lord
The heavenly Bridegroom, and could mark his Smiles?
What Resolutions, for thy Watch, thy Walk
Has thy Heart plan'd, led out on Grace for Strength?
Thy Breast examine well, thy Gain, thy Loss
In this rich heavenly Traffic, and record
In Memory's Volume where inclin'd the Scale.
Yet are thy Toils not done: reduce thy Light
Now into Practice, 'tis th' expected End
For which we hear. Our Sabbath has its Work;
Love may yet labour, on Care's Day of Rest.
Knows thy Friend-pitying Heart no pensive Saint
Journeying in Darkness, whom thy Pilgrim Voice
(From a large Fund of stor'd Experiences)
Gently might cheer? None, grip'd by wordly Straits,
Whom thy free giving, or (in Act next kind)
Thy lending Hand as lib'ral, or at least
Thy pleading Interest, might from deadliest Want
Timely redeem? No Mourner, destitute
In lonely Widow-hood, Woes most tragic Scene!
With her young Brood of helpless Orphans left,
Wat'ring with Tears the fond, sad Mother's Knee?
Have Alms been added? Alms shou'd follow Pray'rs
Their Harbingers, as Sunshine does the Dawn.
Will Indigence exempt thee, art thou poor?—
And is thy Soul poor too? the meanest Wretch
Has somewhat; Pity's godlike Charity.
Thou'lt call this Counsel moral, be it so:
'Tis Christian too; built on Belief's sound Base,
Its Evidence and Fruits; no Works, no Faith .
A formal proud Morality may vaunt
Without Religion, but Religion's Self
Ne'er had true Life without Morality.
Are fully ended: Twice in Public paid,
Her Claim maternal. What returning Trains
Flock from the Sanctuary! a graceful Sight.
Some, for Heav'n's Favour, on the Duty done
Resting their Christless Hope. Some posting, fast,
To Walks, to Company; o'erjoy'd to find
Their Task discharg'd, and anxious how to lose
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But whether hasten'st thou, thy after-Work
Of Recollection grateful, to begin?
What are thy Frames? has the keen, piercing Word
Reach'd Home, and fasten'd in thy Soul; its Mark?
When Christ is preaching on the Gospel Mount,
At his Descent, the Leper shall be cleans'd.
Trembled thy Conscience when the firey Law
Flash'd its red Threat'nings? who? what Angel-Strength?
What Fortitude invincible can bear
When God is angry?—bow'd thy willing Ear
To the mild Tenders of thy Saviour-King?
Are thy Hopes rais'd, thy misty Damps all clear'd
By the bright Promises, and Unbelief
In their warm Sun-shine melted sweetly down?
To his State-Rooms of Ordinances brought,
Thro' their pure Lattice have I seen my Lord
The heavenly Bridegroom, and could mark his Smiles?
What Resolutions, for thy Watch, thy Walk
Has thy Heart plan'd, led out on Grace for Strength?
Thy Breast examine well, thy Gain, thy Loss
In this rich heavenly Traffic, and record
In Memory's Volume where inclin'd the Scale.
Yet are thy Toils not done: reduce thy Light
Now into Practice, 'tis th' expected End
204
Love may yet labour, on Care's Day of Rest.
Knows thy Friend-pitying Heart no pensive Saint
Journeying in Darkness, whom thy Pilgrim Voice
(From a large Fund of stor'd Experiences)
Gently might cheer? None, grip'd by wordly Straits,
Whom thy free giving, or (in Act next kind)
Thy lending Hand as lib'ral, or at least
Thy pleading Interest, might from deadliest Want
Timely redeem? No Mourner, destitute
In lonely Widow-hood, Woes most tragic Scene!
With her young Brood of helpless Orphans left,
Wat'ring with Tears the fond, sad Mother's Knee?
Have Alms been added? Alms shou'd follow Pray'rs
Their Harbingers, as Sunshine does the Dawn.
Will Indigence exempt thee, art thou poor?—
And is thy Soul poor too? the meanest Wretch
Has somewhat; Pity's godlike Charity.
Thou'lt call this Counsel moral, be it so:
'Tis Christian too; built on Belief's sound Base,
Its Evidence and Fruits; no Works, no Faith .
A formal proud Morality may vaunt
Without Religion, but Religion's Self
Ne'er had true Life without Morality.
205
Whence was that Peal, that beats on trembling Air
Its slow, dead Pulse!—I hear—and yet I hear
Its mournful Echoes!—'tis the Passing-Bell.
How dolefully it sounds!—there went a Soul!
But where?—and art Thou next prepar'd to die?
Where is Liberio? late the gay, the vain,
'Till Sickness seiz'd him—hah! that wakes a Blush
In conscious Memory. Once thou had'st a Friend,
Nisus the lov'd; in his fall'n Nature's State,
Guilty, insensible, and unreclaim'd
He died: Without one kind Attempt from thee.
What hast thou done, thou Loit'rer for thy God!
A Life, a Friend, a Soul, perhaps is lost,
Lost—and for ever!—can I bear the Thought?
Deep let it goad me! may it wring me now!
Up! stir! exert thee! double all thy Cares,
And taught by past Remisness labour more!
Its slow, dead Pulse!—I hear—and yet I hear
Its mournful Echoes!—'tis the Passing-Bell.
How dolefully it sounds!—there went a Soul!
But where?—and art Thou next prepar'd to die?
Where is Liberio? late the gay, the vain,
'Till Sickness seiz'd him—hah! that wakes a Blush
In conscious Memory. Once thou had'st a Friend,
Nisus the lov'd; in his fall'n Nature's State,
Guilty, insensible, and unreclaim'd
He died: Without one kind Attempt from thee.
What hast thou done, thou Loit'rer for thy God!
A Life, a Friend, a Soul, perhaps is lost,
Lost—and for ever!—can I bear the Thought?
Deep let it goad me! may it wring me now!
Up! stir! exert thee! double all thy Cares,
And taught by past Remisness labour more!
Ah! might this Thought alarm the Sons of Sloth
That now! here! only on Man's present Stage
Heroic Charity can act her Part:
Where human Miseries give her, fair, to shine.
In Heav'n, no moving Drama will present
Fit Scene, her godlike Talent to display.
Life's suff'ring Graces too, Repentance, there,
Divine Forgiveness, Faith, and patient Hope
(View'd in the Step of Majesty below)
When from Earth's Theatre dismiss'd, undrest,
Their final, their eternal Exit quite
Must make; behind the Curtain (dropt) of Time.
That now! here! only on Man's present Stage
Heroic Charity can act her Part:
Where human Miseries give her, fair, to shine.
In Heav'n, no moving Drama will present
Fit Scene, her godlike Talent to display.
Life's suff'ring Graces too, Repentance, there,
Divine Forgiveness, Faith, and patient Hope
(View'd in the Step of Majesty below)
206
Their final, their eternal Exit quite
Must make; behind the Curtain (dropt) of Time.
Well hast thou traffick'd in thy holy Work,
Servant of God! with all thy Tasks discharg'd
Hast thy full Course in Duty's Circle run
Of Sacred, Houshould, Private, and as due,
Of Neighbourhood; tho' latest not less dear.
Hallowing the Day, thy Master's Jubilee,
Hast serv'd, in him, thyself: by heaping more
Thy Sum of Talents, lent in Steward Trust,
Against thy Audit-Hour of doubled Gain.
Pray'rs yield thee Bills, mean Time, for present Wants;
Prompt-paid from the full Treasury of Heav'n.
Servant of God! with all thy Tasks discharg'd
Hast thy full Course in Duty's Circle run
Of Sacred, Houshould, Private, and as due,
Of Neighbourhood; tho' latest not less dear.
Hallowing the Day, thy Master's Jubilee,
Hast serv'd, in him, thyself: by heaping more
Thy Sum of Talents, lent in Steward Trust,
Against thy Audit-Hour of doubled Gain.
Pray'rs yield thee Bills, mean Time, for present Wants;
Prompt-paid from the full Treasury of Heav'n.
But see! where now, thy own best Parallel,
See where at length the downward-bending Sun
His low, broad Orb of setting Splendours rests
On the green Pillow of yon Western Steep.
In smiling Radiance bidding half our World
Farewel, on Speed to visit nether Skies.
Carrying Morn, Noon, and Night in ceaseless change
Each new, swift Minute round the peopled Ball.
Look! how the rapid Journeyer seems to bait
His slack'ning Steeds, and loos'd to Evening Sports,
Shoots down obliquely his diverging Beams!
That kindle on opposing Hills the Blaze
Of glitt'ring Turrets, and illumin'd Domes;
A Prospect all on Fire: 'till sinking still,
More, and still sinking, while to Sight quite lost,
His Rays play upward, in the fleecy Clouds
That, swiftly pencil'd, dress a mimic Scene
In Fancy's Eye, of Groves, and whiten'd Alps,
And Towers romantic, rear'd Compleat, or Waste
In ruin'd Majesty; with Interspace
Of golden Ether, and Elysian Plain.
Then vanish quite, as soon; and shift by Turns
To Tinctures of a thousand diff'rent Dyes.
Till Twilight last steps forth, her modest Face
Half hid, beneath her gentler-lucent Vest
She, from their flowery Prisons strait unlocks
The light-wing'd Odours; that on sweetest Range
Drop their rich, nectar'd Treasures as they fly;
Catch'd, vagrant, by the sultry-soothing Gale.
See where at length the downward-bending Sun
His low, broad Orb of setting Splendours rests
On the green Pillow of yon Western Steep.
In smiling Radiance bidding half our World
Farewel, on Speed to visit nether Skies.
Carrying Morn, Noon, and Night in ceaseless change
Each new, swift Minute round the peopled Ball.
Look! how the rapid Journeyer seems to bait
His slack'ning Steeds, and loos'd to Evening Sports,
207
That kindle on opposing Hills the Blaze
Of glitt'ring Turrets, and illumin'd Domes;
A Prospect all on Fire: 'till sinking still,
More, and still sinking, while to Sight quite lost,
His Rays play upward, in the fleecy Clouds
That, swiftly pencil'd, dress a mimic Scene
In Fancy's Eye, of Groves, and whiten'd Alps,
And Towers romantic, rear'd Compleat, or Waste
In ruin'd Majesty; with Interspace
Of golden Ether, and Elysian Plain.
Then vanish quite, as soon; and shift by Turns
To Tinctures of a thousand diff'rent Dyes.
Till Twilight last steps forth, her modest Face
Half hid, beneath her gentler-lucent Vest
She, from their flowery Prisons strait unlocks
The light-wing'd Odours; that on sweetest Range
Drop their rich, nectar'd Treasures as they fly;
Catch'd, vagrant, by the sultry-soothing Gale.
'Tis solemn Gloom, toil'd Nature's grateful Hour
Of universal Solace; calm, and still.
The little Warbler of the cheerful Day
The Charmer-Lark, has sung himself to Rest.
Each feathery Labourer has his Vesper clos'd
Perch'd on his Bough. But wakes, in conscious Man,
Wakes still, the deep Solicitude of Thought!
And now more deep, while mounted in her Sphere
(Prime near Attendant on her Solar Lord)
The Star of Eve lights up her Diamond Flames.
And the pale milder Regent of the Night,
Replenish'd from her Brother's lucid Urn,
In her fill'd Orb, new ris'n, compleatly thron'd,
Pours thro' wide Fields of Sky her argent Stream.
Queen of the Shades, amid her lesser Train
Of fix'd and planetary Lustre's joyn'd
In Lumination mutual, slow she moves
Thro' her throng'd Court; and Heav'n's vast Palace glows
With an infinitude of living Fires.
At the grand Pomp of Wonders, in what Heart
Glows not Devotion too?—“My Sire! my God!
All-glorious King! of thy dread Greatness much,
Much have I heard, by the awe-shudd'ring Ear.
But in this Mirrour, my o'erdazzled Eye
Of Sense, surveys thee; more tremendous far!
In Dust, my Mother, humbler, humbler—oh!
In penitential Ashes, let me view
My Self, abhorr'd: my Self! more black, more vile .”
—What a big Swarm of bold Inquisitors
Burst in, tumultuous, on the Reasoning Pow'r.
O'er curious, of the Trembler they enquire
If those immensely-distant Globes be Suns,
With each his System of revolving Earths;
Plac'd inaccessible to human Ken?
They question, why those four resplendant Moons
(Discernable but thro' the nightly Tube)
Are seen to roll round Planetary Jove,
And ask for what they roll, for whom they shine?
Or, to what Purposes in Saturn, serve
His Moons more numerous, and Elliptic Ring?
Or, if intended for our Use at all,
Why hides, beneath his Sun, th' Hermetic Star ?
Th' unruly Thoughts, all up, next start a Doubt
If Comets be expiring Worlds on Fire?
Purg'd in the Solar Furnace (as perchance
Our Planet shall in turn) and thence detach'd
Each, a new Earth (like that) new Heav'ns to fill ?
Is Space, they ask, that dolorous Dungeon vast
Of Suff'rings final, that Abyss which Fiends
So deprecate, as by the Scripture Code
May intimated seem? Sad, wand'ring State
Of Souls intelligent, down that dead Void
Immens'rable, in outer Darkness cast,
Exil'd, and shut from all the Worlds of Day!
Or (since Effects most cross and opposite
From the same Cause can boundless Pow'r produce)
What if this very Sun, our now best Gift
Shou'd Man's tormenting Prison prove, at last.
Destin'd by awful Nemesis divine
Guilt's dread Abode, it's local Hell of Fire ?
To such wild Doubts the mental Wranglers fall:
Then to extreams, far wide, they run; and form
Conjectures diff'rent, all as dark and strange,
That, possibly, it Residence may yield
For happiest Beings; the bright Place where John
Saw in Apocalypse the Angel stand.
Begone, Seducers of my humbler Heart!
I chase ye from my meditating Hour!
On the proud Plumes of Science where wou'd soar
Th' unsatisfy'd Enquirer? O, 'tis vain,
'Tis daring, 'tis for Man's weak Flight too high,
The poor, raw Pupil, in his childish School!
Salvation! be thy interesting Theme
My whole, blest Study here; and Suns, and Stars,
A Kind of trav'ling Speculation, made
My Road-Employment, as I pass their Spheres,
Led up by Angels, to my Father's Skies.
Of universal Solace; calm, and still.
The little Warbler of the cheerful Day
The Charmer-Lark, has sung himself to Rest.
Each feathery Labourer has his Vesper clos'd
Perch'd on his Bough. But wakes, in conscious Man,
Wakes still, the deep Solicitude of Thought!
And now more deep, while mounted in her Sphere
208
The Star of Eve lights up her Diamond Flames.
And the pale milder Regent of the Night,
Replenish'd from her Brother's lucid Urn,
In her fill'd Orb, new ris'n, compleatly thron'd,
Pours thro' wide Fields of Sky her argent Stream.
Queen of the Shades, amid her lesser Train
Of fix'd and planetary Lustre's joyn'd
In Lumination mutual, slow she moves
Thro' her throng'd Court; and Heav'n's vast Palace glows
With an infinitude of living Fires.
At the grand Pomp of Wonders, in what Heart
Glows not Devotion too?—“My Sire! my God!
All-glorious King! of thy dread Greatness much,
Much have I heard, by the awe-shudd'ring Ear.
But in this Mirrour, my o'erdazzled Eye
Of Sense, surveys thee; more tremendous far!
In Dust, my Mother, humbler, humbler—oh!
In penitential Ashes, let me view
My Self, abhorr'd: my Self! more black, more vile .”
—What a big Swarm of bold Inquisitors
Burst in, tumultuous, on the Reasoning Pow'r.
O'er curious, of the Trembler they enquire
If those immensely-distant Globes be Suns,
With each his System of revolving Earths;
Plac'd inaccessible to human Ken?
209
(Discernable but thro' the nightly Tube)
Are seen to roll round Planetary Jove,
And ask for what they roll, for whom they shine?
Or, to what Purposes in Saturn, serve
His Moons more numerous, and Elliptic Ring?
Or, if intended for our Use at all,
Why hides, beneath his Sun, th' Hermetic Star ?
Th' unruly Thoughts, all up, next start a Doubt
If Comets be expiring Worlds on Fire?
Purg'd in the Solar Furnace (as perchance
Our Planet shall in turn) and thence detach'd
Each, a new Earth (like that) new Heav'ns to fill ?
Is Space, they ask, that dolorous Dungeon vast
Of Suff'rings final, that Abyss which Fiends
So deprecate, as by the Scripture Code
May intimated seem? Sad, wand'ring State
Of Souls intelligent, down that dead Void
Immens'rable, in outer Darkness cast,
Exil'd, and shut from all the Worlds of Day!
Or (since Effects most cross and opposite
From the same Cause can boundless Pow'r produce)
What if this very Sun, our now best Gift
Shou'd Man's tormenting Prison prove, at last.
210
Guilt's dread Abode, it's local Hell of Fire ?
To such wild Doubts the mental Wranglers fall:
Then to extreams, far wide, they run; and form
Conjectures diff'rent, all as dark and strange,
That, possibly, it Residence may yield
For happiest Beings; the bright Place where John
Saw in Apocalypse the Angel stand.
Begone, Seducers of my humbler Heart!
I chase ye from my meditating Hour!
On the proud Plumes of Science where wou'd soar
Th' unsatisfy'd Enquirer? O, 'tis vain,
'Tis daring, 'tis for Man's weak Flight too high,
The poor, raw Pupil, in his childish School!
Salvation! be thy interesting Theme
My whole, blest Study here; and Suns, and Stars,
A Kind of trav'ling Speculation, made
My Road-Employment, as I pass their Spheres,
Led up by Angels, to my Father's Skies.
Can I this Hope appropriate, and the Grace
Fail to admire, unmerited and free,
That calls me to a Dignity so high?
The grateful Thought that labours in my Breast
Has woke a Theme that, suitably, shall yield
My Evening Solitude a sacred Song.
A Theme that has (encreasing heavenly Bliss)
Been hymn'd by Angels to their golden Lyres.
Fail to admire, unmerited and free,
That calls me to a Dignity so high?
The grateful Thought that labours in my Breast
Has woke a Theme that, suitably, shall yield
211
A Theme that has (encreasing heavenly Bliss)
Been hymn'd by Angels to their golden Lyres.
The courtly Wilmot was of noblest Blood;
Comely in Person, nor in Mind less grac'd
With Genius, native Modesty, and Wit:
Humanely affable, and of a Soul
Dauntless and brave; in Britain's naval Wars
In many a Deed of hardiest Prowess try'd.
From Learning's Fount Accomplishment he drew,
Where Isis by her younger Athens rolls;
Heighten'd, by Travel, with a Knowledge gain'd,
Of various Lands, and European Courts.
Whence his nerv'd Muse, too rich in Strength and Fires,
Learn'd first to mate the antient Latian Vein.
Yet, with these choice Endowments, innate Vice,
In her foul Poisons, deep had drench'd his Heart.
Impious he prov'd, his Life was shameless, leud,
He spurn'd his Saviour, he deny'd his God,
In Satire rag'd, and revell'd in his Song,
Scoff'd at all Warnings, every Check out wore.
But Heav'n that in his Book of hid Decrees
Had mark'd even this Apostate for his own,
Mov'd to Paternal Chastning, bent his Bow:
And a keen, deadly Arrow, dipt in Love,
Sent thro' his Soul, with wasting Sickness wing'd;
That rous'd Reflection from her sensual Swoon.
She plac'd Gorgonian Horrours to his view,
His Talents squander'd, his enormous Crimes,
'Gainst Nature's, Reason's, and Religion's Light;
Who can express the Pang!—'till timely sent
By pitying Grace, the good Evangelus,
Tender in Labours for distemper'd Souls,
A healing Cordial, sweet Conversion brought:
Giv'n from the wise Physician's Hand above,
That a new Life the hopeless Patient gave.
He blest—admir'd—Pray'r loos'd his Guilt-bound Tongue;
He wept, he worship'd, search'd God's reverenc'd Word,
And in Isaiah's Death-enlightning Page
Saw his dear Saviour, bright in Prophecy.
Heard, hear'd him speak! with kind inviting Voice
As once to Peter (Faith when Jesus calls
It's Foot will venture on the stormiest Wave
To reach him in her desperate, drowning Arms.)
Felt his Embrace! (his Danger past, and Fears
At those kind Accents “wherefore didst thou doubt?”)
Then, with a placid Smile, and gushing Eyes,
Fix'd on his Lord, a Joy too big for Words!
Full of calm Confidence, and Hope, and Peace,
He bow'd, ador'd, and on his Breast expir'd.
—Now in the blest Society of Saints,
With the thron'd Class of pardon'd Penitents,
(His Brother Miscreant, who on Calv'ry nail'd
Died near his God, and Sister Magdalene
Of seven strong Fiends by Jesus dispossess'd)
The Victor sings the Lamb's triumphant Song.
Leaving his impious Life, his Godly Death
A Monument, in ev'ry Age, to stand
For guiltiest Sinners, of redeeming Pow'r.
Comely in Person, nor in Mind less grac'd
With Genius, native Modesty, and Wit:
Humanely affable, and of a Soul
Dauntless and brave; in Britain's naval Wars
In many a Deed of hardiest Prowess try'd.
From Learning's Fount Accomplishment he drew,
Where Isis by her younger Athens rolls;
Heighten'd, by Travel, with a Knowledge gain'd,
Of various Lands, and European Courts.
Whence his nerv'd Muse, too rich in Strength and Fires,
Learn'd first to mate the antient Latian Vein.
Yet, with these choice Endowments, innate Vice,
In her foul Poisons, deep had drench'd his Heart.
Impious he prov'd, his Life was shameless, leud,
He spurn'd his Saviour, he deny'd his God,
In Satire rag'd, and revell'd in his Song,
Scoff'd at all Warnings, every Check out wore.
But Heav'n that in his Book of hid Decrees
Had mark'd even this Apostate for his own,
Mov'd to Paternal Chastning, bent his Bow:
And a keen, deadly Arrow, dipt in Love,
Sent thro' his Soul, with wasting Sickness wing'd;
212
She plac'd Gorgonian Horrours to his view,
His Talents squander'd, his enormous Crimes,
'Gainst Nature's, Reason's, and Religion's Light;
Who can express the Pang!—'till timely sent
By pitying Grace, the good Evangelus,
Tender in Labours for distemper'd Souls,
A healing Cordial, sweet Conversion brought:
Giv'n from the wise Physician's Hand above,
That a new Life the hopeless Patient gave.
He blest—admir'd—Pray'r loos'd his Guilt-bound Tongue;
He wept, he worship'd, search'd God's reverenc'd Word,
And in Isaiah's Death-enlightning Page
Saw his dear Saviour, bright in Prophecy.
Heard, hear'd him speak! with kind inviting Voice
As once to Peter (Faith when Jesus calls
It's Foot will venture on the stormiest Wave
To reach him in her desperate, drowning Arms.)
Felt his Embrace! (his Danger past, and Fears
At those kind Accents “wherefore didst thou doubt?”)
Then, with a placid Smile, and gushing Eyes,
Fix'd on his Lord, a Joy too big for Words!
Full of calm Confidence, and Hope, and Peace,
213
—Now in the blest Society of Saints,
With the thron'd Class of pardon'd Penitents,
(His Brother Miscreant, who on Calv'ry nail'd
Died near his God, and Sister Magdalene
Of seven strong Fiends by Jesus dispossess'd)
The Victor sings the Lamb's triumphant Song.
Leaving his impious Life, his Godly Death
A Monument, in ev'ry Age, to stand
For guiltiest Sinners, of redeeming Pow'r.
Hark!—'tis the Nightingale, Love's lonely Bird,
In the deep Bosom of this dusky Wood
Pathless of human Foot, she sits recluse,
Her Arbour; by the melancholy Scene
Sweetning her Note; while the soft Lamp of Night
Gleams on the burnish'd Brook with liquid Gold:
Cheering the Shade; on whose tall, top-most Boughs,
Paled with the glimmering Rays, the ruslling Leaves
Join their low Whispers; clos'd with Cadence deep
From the drone Beetle's Sleep-exciting Horn.
And off the sharp-brow'd Cliff, in Murmurs faint
From hence scarce heard, a distant Water-fall
Adds it's hoarse, solemn, dying Harmony.
All, with Confusion-mix'd, of Music rude,
Reverberated, from the cavern'd Hill;
The Cell where ever-waking Echo keeps
Her still, nocturnal Watch.—'Tis pleasing thus
To wander, thoughtful, thro' the sylvan Grove,
At fragrant Morn, scorch'd Noon, or dewy Eve;
Oft' as her Season free Occasion lends.
Slow as the silent Fowler roves, who steps
The fresh-plow'd Glebe, and in each Furrow quests
Some springing Game—nor ceases this to please
The Mind of Nature fond in ev'ry Dress,
Ev'n when she wears her Virgin Shroud of Snows,
And weeping Mists spread, sad, her Funeral Pall.
Each Change affords Delight. But mark! where North
Shot from the Pole, a new Aurora breaks
With imitated Dawn. Mysterious Light!
Perhaps portentous of Earth's hast'ning Doom,
Vapour, and sanguine Cloud, and Pillar'd Smoke,
As speaks the Seer inspir'd . And now the Moon
A Curtain-Fold of richest Drapery draws
O'er her dim'd Form, that warns to due Repose.
But first, e'er rested on my Bed's kind Down,
Him I once more invoke, whose Guardian-Wing
Broods o'er me while I walk, and when I rest.
“God of my Days and Nights, be gently near
“With thy safe Presence still! and Sleep, thy Gift,
“Health's dear Physician send, to drop his Balm;
“With Dreams devoutly pure, from Dread, or Sin!”
—I close my Eyes, but Meditation wakes:
My Midnight Pillow's silent Visitor,
Long with my Thoughts us'd mutely to converse;
Renewing thus her heavenly Monody.
In the deep Bosom of this dusky Wood
Pathless of human Foot, she sits recluse,
Her Arbour; by the melancholy Scene
Sweetning her Note; while the soft Lamp of Night
Gleams on the burnish'd Brook with liquid Gold:
Cheering the Shade; on whose tall, top-most Boughs,
Paled with the glimmering Rays, the ruslling Leaves
Join their low Whispers; clos'd with Cadence deep
From the drone Beetle's Sleep-exciting Horn.
And off the sharp-brow'd Cliff, in Murmurs faint
From hence scarce heard, a distant Water-fall
Adds it's hoarse, solemn, dying Harmony.
All, with Confusion-mix'd, of Music rude,
Reverberated, from the cavern'd Hill;
The Cell where ever-waking Echo keeps
Her still, nocturnal Watch.—'Tis pleasing thus
214
At fragrant Morn, scorch'd Noon, or dewy Eve;
Oft' as her Season free Occasion lends.
Slow as the silent Fowler roves, who steps
The fresh-plow'd Glebe, and in each Furrow quests
Some springing Game—nor ceases this to please
The Mind of Nature fond in ev'ry Dress,
Ev'n when she wears her Virgin Shroud of Snows,
And weeping Mists spread, sad, her Funeral Pall.
Each Change affords Delight. But mark! where North
Shot from the Pole, a new Aurora breaks
With imitated Dawn. Mysterious Light!
Perhaps portentous of Earth's hast'ning Doom,
Vapour, and sanguine Cloud, and Pillar'd Smoke,
As speaks the Seer inspir'd . And now the Moon
A Curtain-Fold of richest Drapery draws
O'er her dim'd Form, that warns to due Repose.
But first, e'er rested on my Bed's kind Down,
Him I once more invoke, whose Guardian-Wing
Broods o'er me while I walk, and when I rest.
“God of my Days and Nights, be gently near
“With thy safe Presence still! and Sleep, thy Gift,
“Health's dear Physician send, to drop his Balm;
“With Dreams devoutly pure, from Dread, or Sin!”
—I close my Eyes, but Meditation wakes:
My Midnight Pillow's silent Visitor,
215
Renewing thus her heavenly Monody.
Has one seventh Portion more of measur'd Time,
Of holiest Time been lent? accomplish'd well,
Tho' weak, in Duties painful Husbandry.
And wilt thou, senseless! from the Harvest Feast
Serv'd by my Hand, a Self-Absenter turn?
From this Sabbatic Type, of shadow'd Rest,
Climb thy Mind's Scale to it's Reality,
Thy Everlasting Sabbath: hop'd and sure.
What must it be, of exquisitely blest,
That Eye, nor Ear, of pleasant, or of sweet,
Nor Pow'rs of human Heart can least conceive!
Has God created Earth's mean Spot so fair,
A Work not meant for perfect, which his Hand
(As the rough out-Lines, a meer Sketch of Pow'r)
One Day shall blot, consigning it to Flames?
How must he then, so Opulent, and Wise,
His lovelier, everlasting World have built!
A standing Trophy of Almighty Skill.
Where Saints, all congregate in one, shall keep
Eternal Sabbatism of Joy and Praise.
In his pleas'd Presence, over-full of Bliss!
Associate with their mediatorial King!
And dear Companions of Angelic Thrones!
No Night, discomforting, shall heavy spread
Her Raven-Wing, nor Moon shall need suspend
Her friendly Lamp; the Pow'r who made the Sun
That immaterial, uncreated Light!
Himself shall beam the more effulgent Day.
O, what a Temple shall I enter then,
Myself a Pillar, by the Builder, made;
From my blest Station ne'er to be displac'd!
To view this Mortal in Immortal shrin'd!
Corruption, chang'd for Incorruptible!
This Life of Sin, for Life Immaculate!
The triple League of Satan, World, and Flesh,
Spoil'd, routed, broke—Temptation! ended all!
And last Repentance, flying in their Rear!—
No more with Sickness, Care, and Penury,
Sharp Disappointments, Insults, Slights and Wrongs
Myself to mourn, or share another's Pang!
From Fears of Life at rest, and Fears of Death;
My Works of Imperfection, Toil and Pain!—
What Transports shall it give, to feel my Tears
Wip'd all, for ever, from these Eyes away
By God's own blissful Hand , his Face to see;
In Fatherly Relentings, reconcil'd,
Rejoycing o'er me!—and be seated near
My lovely Jesus, while with longing Soul
I hear, of matchless Love, his suff'ring Tale!
Hear! with a holy Gratitude, that needs
(With a strange Kind of pitying Sympathy)
My trembling Spirit must half-mourning leave:
Sad, in the Bosom of so many Joys.
Which his sweet Converse shall as soon appease;
Fill'd, from his Presence, with Beatitude
Ineffable, as from a living Stream
Pour'd; plenteous as my finite can sustain.
No longer, there, my Solace-keeping Heart
Shall of Estrangement, Frowns, and Absences,
Rebellious Hardness, or dull frozen Damp,
Darkness, or Wandrings, ever more, lament.
Perfection issues, from our Union full,
In ev'ry Pow'r, and Faculty, matur'd:
My Knowledge shall be perfected, and Will,
And Holiness, grown up a Nature there;
And perfected Affections, all at height;
Love burning clear, and full, Meridian Joy!—
Strange Bliss! too wonderful for Mind or Tongue
To comprehend (mysterious) or express.
Completed, and, at once, Progressive too!
Loving, still more to love! and without Bound,
Rising to rise! and knowing, but to know!
Beginning, as we end! and running thro'
Myriads of Æras, only to begin1
O, what a Centre, indivisible,
In one vast Circle, is Eternity!
O, what an Ocean deep is Infinite!
Impossible to fathom, or exhaust.
What Corruscations, felt, of Deity
(Too brightly glorious for a Mortal's Strength)
Break on my sinking Dust! Thought can sustain,
And Utterance reach no more—My God! my God!—
—So fine a Clue cou'd Contemplation's Hand
No longer touch; for my o'erlabour'd Pow'rs
A feathery Slumber now laid gently down,
And with her Wand, in Poppy Odours dip'd,
A Spell upon my visual Orbs let fall,
That ev'ry Portal of the Senses clos'd.
Like his enchanting Rod, as Fables tell,
Whose potent Touch cou'd Sight, oblivious, seal.
But on my mental Eye a Vision stole,
That plac'd before its View a shining Form.
White were its Robes, and gracefully beneath
A starry Circlet play'd its flowing Hair:
That, from its Rings, ambrosial Fragrance wav'd
Whom lowly Greeting, and with prostate Look
Of Salutation reverent, as befits
Celestial Guest, I thus in brief address'd.
Of holiest Time been lent? accomplish'd well,
Tho' weak, in Duties painful Husbandry.
And wilt thou, senseless! from the Harvest Feast
Serv'd by my Hand, a Self-Absenter turn?
From this Sabbatic Type, of shadow'd Rest,
Climb thy Mind's Scale to it's Reality,
Thy Everlasting Sabbath: hop'd and sure.
What must it be, of exquisitely blest,
That Eye, nor Ear, of pleasant, or of sweet,
Nor Pow'rs of human Heart can least conceive!
Has God created Earth's mean Spot so fair,
A Work not meant for perfect, which his Hand
(As the rough out-Lines, a meer Sketch of Pow'r)
One Day shall blot, consigning it to Flames?
How must he then, so Opulent, and Wise,
His lovelier, everlasting World have built!
A standing Trophy of Almighty Skill.
Where Saints, all congregate in one, shall keep
Eternal Sabbatism of Joy and Praise.
In his pleas'd Presence, over-full of Bliss!
Associate with their mediatorial King!
And dear Companions of Angelic Thrones!
No Night, discomforting, shall heavy spread
Her Raven-Wing, nor Moon shall need suspend
Her friendly Lamp; the Pow'r who made the Sun
216
Himself shall beam the more effulgent Day.
O, what a Temple shall I enter then,
Myself a Pillar, by the Builder, made;
From my blest Station ne'er to be displac'd!
To view this Mortal in Immortal shrin'd!
Corruption, chang'd for Incorruptible!
This Life of Sin, for Life Immaculate!
The triple League of Satan, World, and Flesh,
Spoil'd, routed, broke—Temptation! ended all!
And last Repentance, flying in their Rear!—
No more with Sickness, Care, and Penury,
Sharp Disappointments, Insults, Slights and Wrongs
Myself to mourn, or share another's Pang!
From Fears of Life at rest, and Fears of Death;
My Works of Imperfection, Toil and Pain!—
What Transports shall it give, to feel my Tears
Wip'd all, for ever, from these Eyes away
By God's own blissful Hand , his Face to see;
In Fatherly Relentings, reconcil'd,
Rejoycing o'er me!—and be seated near
My lovely Jesus, while with longing Soul
I hear, of matchless Love, his suff'ring Tale!
Hear! with a holy Gratitude, that needs
(With a strange Kind of pitying Sympathy)
My trembling Spirit must half-mourning leave:
Sad, in the Bosom of so many Joys.
217
Fill'd, from his Presence, with Beatitude
Ineffable, as from a living Stream
Pour'd; plenteous as my finite can sustain.
No longer, there, my Solace-keeping Heart
Shall of Estrangement, Frowns, and Absences,
Rebellious Hardness, or dull frozen Damp,
Darkness, or Wandrings, ever more, lament.
Perfection issues, from our Union full,
In ev'ry Pow'r, and Faculty, matur'd:
My Knowledge shall be perfected, and Will,
And Holiness, grown up a Nature there;
And perfected Affections, all at height;
Love burning clear, and full, Meridian Joy!—
Strange Bliss! too wonderful for Mind or Tongue
To comprehend (mysterious) or express.
Completed, and, at once, Progressive too!
Loving, still more to love! and without Bound,
Rising to rise! and knowing, but to know!
Beginning, as we end! and running thro'
Myriads of Æras, only to begin1
O, what a Centre, indivisible,
In one vast Circle, is Eternity!
O, what an Ocean deep is Infinite!
Impossible to fathom, or exhaust.
What Corruscations, felt, of Deity
(Too brightly glorious for a Mortal's Strength)
218
And Utterance reach no more—My God! my God!—
—So fine a Clue cou'd Contemplation's Hand
No longer touch; for my o'erlabour'd Pow'rs
A feathery Slumber now laid gently down,
And with her Wand, in Poppy Odours dip'd,
A Spell upon my visual Orbs let fall,
That ev'ry Portal of the Senses clos'd.
Like his enchanting Rod, as Fables tell,
Whose potent Touch cou'd Sight, oblivious, seal.
But on my mental Eye a Vision stole,
That plac'd before its View a shining Form.
White were its Robes, and gracefully beneath
A starry Circlet play'd its flowing Hair:
That, from its Rings, ambrosial Fragrance wav'd
Whom lowly Greeting, and with prostate Look
Of Salutation reverent, as befits
Celestial Guest, I thus in brief address'd.
O! sent on kindest Errand, for no less
Than heavenly I must deem thee, what to Earth
This Seat of Worms has brought thee, and to me
Least worthy of such Grace?—When smiling meek,
As in familiar Use of Friend with Friend,
Thus answ'ring, interpos'd the Radiance mild.
Than heavenly I must deem thee, what to Earth
This Seat of Worms has brought thee, and to me
Least worthy of such Grace?—When smiling meek,
As in familiar Use of Friend with Friend,
Thus answ'ring, interpos'd the Radiance mild.
Offspring of Dust, my Origin like thine,
Tho' now prefer'd so high; for of thy Race
I once was mortal, till releas'd from Flesh,
Me, to this Rank, redeeming Goodness rais'd.
I come in kind Commission, nothing loath,
Thy Couch to tend with gentlest Ministry.
My freest Converse offering; if of thee
I ought may win, imparted, and impart
To thee, in Change, my Mind's Experience all,
(All what I may) as fits thy State to know.
Tho' now prefer'd so high; for of thy Race
219
Me, to this Rank, redeeming Goodness rais'd.
I come in kind Commission, nothing loath,
Thy Couch to tend with gentlest Ministry.
My freest Converse offering; if of thee
I ought may win, imparted, and impart
To thee, in Change, my Mind's Experience all,
(All what I may) as fits thy State to know.
Friendliest of Spirits etherial (rapt I cry'd)
Wondrous is sure thy Goodness! that can yield
A Moment of extatic Bliss to lose
From that bright World, where much I long to dwell!
Near that dear Lord, whom more I long to see!
Gentlest thy Condescension, that can deign
To visit me, poor Cottager in Clay!
Invited to so strange Communion free:
That now I haste, advent'rous, to begin.
But what for Theme?—If freely (as thou sayst)
Much could I of the human Soul enquire
That Mystery to herself; if yet it holds
Specific Differences of Sex in Heav'n?
Tho' these first Ends of Nature there shall cease,
May not the manly Spirit, bold, robust,
Conversing with its Sister-Essence pure,
Delection heighten from that soft Alloy?
And, contrary, the gentler Virtue, mild,
Taste happier Solace by her Male Compeer?
As Lights in Paintings more set off the Shades;
Or as in Music's meliorated Tones,
The finer Strings chime sweetliest to the Base.—
Might I not ask, if, after Death, this Soul
Lives individuate? or, as Love of Self
(Tho' needful here to Preservation's Ends)
Works much her Infelicity below,
In that strong Passion grown inordinate:
May not her ceasing from this Self-Enthral,
These individuating Affections, Cares,
And Labours, perfect her Delights above?
Conglobing with the universal Soul;
As Bucket-Drops themselves in Ocean lose,
By Union of one common Element.
Haply, to better Self again restor'd
When Resurrection shall fit Body yield.
These, would it not mislike thee, could I point
As Subject for Discourse sublime and high.
And thence interrogate when first arose
This intellectual Spark of Entity?
Created daily, by a recent Act
In each fresh Embrio? when Almighty Pow'r
Is said from his creating Work to rest;
Or all at once, in one coëval Birth
Of Spirits, in some pre-existent State?
From whence laps'd differently, ethereal first,
And next aërial stationed, she at last
Is drop'd, to act in weak terrestrial Life.
Probationer for her first, Birth-right Skies?
As Brachman, Magi, and Gymnosophist,
(Indian, and Persian, and Egyptian Sage,)
The whole World's Learning; and the Attick Schools
Of Plato and Pythagoras, antient Jew,
And later Christian, all for Truth have taught?
How justly stays not here to grant or null.
What Questions might not, more, this Theme suggest
Dared I recount them, for thy Art to solve.
As whether Threatnings of eternal Dole,
Hell's Woe, in Strictness, shall for ever last?
To which my Thoughts, as safest led, incline.
Or whether God, since infinite in Good
(With Reverence, diffident, I speak) his Ire
On Beings, reprobate denounc'd, and lost,
(Angels and Mankind, after Ages past)
May not remit? his Justice so content;
And that redeeming Price, sufficient paid
For all (more free his Grace to magnify)
In Season due accept? that by his Son
(Whether in Heav'n or Earth) all Things again
He to their pristine Stations shall restore,
Of Amity and Bliss; once found so dear.
So, in himself, regath'ring into one
All Beings, harmoniz'd in Union sweet?
Whence Sin and Death, no Creatures caus'd of God,
Shall be for evermore annihilate
Made frustrate, and all Enemies be slain?—
But far be from my Thought (tho' pleasing sure
And honouring, as I deem my Maker's Grace)
Far be from me to say that this, or ought
Prelectur'd here, I dare for Creed adopt!
Where Scriptures Silence chuse in all, or most.
Pond'rings, that oft', unwittingly, at Times
Deep Cogitation conflicts in her Walks.
At best, but what has seem'd (nor less, nor more)
Than specious, and propounded, meer, as Doubt.
—And rather wou'd I, tho' so wide disgress'd,
This favour'd Season of Instruction use
On mete, important Queries; how I more,
How better, most acceptably might serve
Him, whom deserv'dly lov'd, supremely prais'd,
Serve, love, and praise both we, and all the Blest.
Wondrous is sure thy Goodness! that can yield
A Moment of extatic Bliss to lose
From that bright World, where much I long to dwell!
Near that dear Lord, whom more I long to see!
Gentlest thy Condescension, that can deign
To visit me, poor Cottager in Clay!
Invited to so strange Communion free:
That now I haste, advent'rous, to begin.
But what for Theme?—If freely (as thou sayst)
Much could I of the human Soul enquire
That Mystery to herself; if yet it holds
Specific Differences of Sex in Heav'n?
Tho' these first Ends of Nature there shall cease,
220
Conversing with its Sister-Essence pure,
Delection heighten from that soft Alloy?
And, contrary, the gentler Virtue, mild,
Taste happier Solace by her Male Compeer?
As Lights in Paintings more set off the Shades;
Or as in Music's meliorated Tones,
The finer Strings chime sweetliest to the Base.—
Might I not ask, if, after Death, this Soul
Lives individuate? or, as Love of Self
(Tho' needful here to Preservation's Ends)
Works much her Infelicity below,
In that strong Passion grown inordinate:
May not her ceasing from this Self-Enthral,
These individuating Affections, Cares,
And Labours, perfect her Delights above?
Conglobing with the universal Soul;
As Bucket-Drops themselves in Ocean lose,
By Union of one common Element.
Haply, to better Self again restor'd
When Resurrection shall fit Body yield.
These, would it not mislike thee, could I point
As Subject for Discourse sublime and high.
And thence interrogate when first arose
This intellectual Spark of Entity?
Created daily, by a recent Act
221
Is said from his creating Work to rest;
Or all at once, in one coëval Birth
Of Spirits, in some pre-existent State?
From whence laps'd differently, ethereal first,
And next aërial stationed, she at last
Is drop'd, to act in weak terrestrial Life.
Probationer for her first, Birth-right Skies?
As Brachman, Magi, and Gymnosophist,
(Indian, and Persian, and Egyptian Sage,)
The whole World's Learning; and the Attick Schools
Of Plato and Pythagoras, antient Jew,
And later Christian, all for Truth have taught?
How justly stays not here to grant or null.
What Questions might not, more, this Theme suggest
Dared I recount them, for thy Art to solve.
As whether Threatnings of eternal Dole,
Hell's Woe, in Strictness, shall for ever last?
To which my Thoughts, as safest led, incline.
Or whether God, since infinite in Good
(With Reverence, diffident, I speak) his Ire
On Beings, reprobate denounc'd, and lost,
(Angels and Mankind, after Ages past)
May not remit? his Justice so content;
And that redeeming Price, sufficient paid
222
In Season due accept? that by his Son
(Whether in Heav'n or Earth) all Things again
He to their pristine Stations shall restore,
Of Amity and Bliss; once found so dear.
So, in himself, regath'ring into one
All Beings, harmoniz'd in Union sweet?
Whence Sin and Death, no Creatures caus'd of God,
Shall be for evermore annihilate
Made frustrate, and all Enemies be slain?—
But far be from my Thought (tho' pleasing sure
And honouring, as I deem my Maker's Grace)
Far be from me to say that this, or ought
Prelectur'd here, I dare for Creed adopt!
Where Scriptures Silence chuse in all, or most.
Pond'rings, that oft', unwittingly, at Times
Deep Cogitation conflicts in her Walks.
At best, but what has seem'd (nor less, nor more)
Than specious, and propounded, meer, as Doubt.
—And rather wou'd I, tho' so wide disgress'd,
This favour'd Season of Instruction use
On mete, important Queries; how I more,
How better, most acceptably might serve
Him, whom deserv'dly lov'd, supremely prais'd,
Serve, love, and praise both we, and all the Blest.
To which, with Look that more than half betray'd
Disapprobation, join'd with mild Reproof,
Th' ethereal Guest, in Accents as of one
Long waiting patient, gave in meek Reply.
Disapprobation, join'd with mild Reproof,
223
Long waiting patient, gave in meek Reply.
I blame not thy Enquiry, 'tis the means
Sure Truth on safe-establish'd Ground to learn.
If venturing on too hazardous a Sea,
Thy Bark thou risque not, with thy Compass lost.
Man's Wisdom is to know his proper Truth,
Not what best lists, but what concerns him most;
All is, beyond, but Folly, or worse Pride:
Fruit of that Tree, twice pluck'd, by which he fell.
But whether social Bands of happiest Souls
Distinction need of Gender, as on Earth,
Imports not thee, o'er curious to enquire.
Enough, if thou attain but this for sure,
Perfect they live, and perfect Best implies,
Which e'er that be, in differing Sex, or none.
Nor shall it serve thy smallest Good, if told
In what strange Way unbodied Mind subsists:
Remaining Individuate (best to think)
Or in one universal Flux convolv'd.
Labyrinth where much vain Thought has wilder'd run.
Or the Soul's Birth wou'dst thou interrogate,
Whether immediate, or long Ages past?
The same it, either Way for thee shall prove,
A mournful Truth, since laps'd indeed—how sure
Thyself can feel! small Comfort when, or where.
One Protoplast, with all his hapless Sons!
Fall'n thou canst find thou art, and need'st no more;
Save means of thy Recov'ry how to know.
Rest center'd there, on Revelation's Point
Not wand'ring tread dark Circles of the Schools:
Which would but more perplex thee, not instruct,
Much less content: wish'd End in all Research.
Truth to expect, and hold implicit Creeds
By popular Opinions, and high Names,
What falser? who, than the meer Man profound
Of Learning, the deep scienc'd, carnal Scribe
Christ's Church, in ev'ry Age, has troubled more?
Not the least Grief of her try'd, present Day.
But fly Dispute, distemp'ring long the World,
If threaten'd Torment shall for ever last?
To which thy Thought, affirmative, inclines.
Safest for Man such Thought, and wisest too,
Where Passions need their strongest Curb of Fear.
The other dangerous, and too like profane:
Seeking of God's sharp Threat to sheath the Sting;
And by bland Artifice, and soft-spun Phrase,
A Theft of Compliment, wou'd steal away
Justice that Gem essential of his Crown.
Feigning it Honour to his Nature done
That Grace should universally redeem.
First minted in that pre-existent Forge
Of Plato, and the Crew of Cabolists.
(Specious I grant to purblind Reason fair)
Squar'd well to suit their Fable of the Soul,
Thro' her feign'd tripartite Progressions laps'd;
And many Lapses must have many Cures.
Thus God, as Just, must cease; for God, as Good?
Bold Mutilation of the Deity!
That (worse than Babel Insolence) would build
God's Goodness on the Ruins of his Truth.
Accounting Nought is Good but what is Kind;
Not measuring it by Wisdom's Line: and what
Is Justice Self, but Goodness, modify'd?
And Punishment is Good where Sin is Ill,
Shou'd that ev'n endless be, while this exists.
Faith is a Sceptic in Philosophy;
Prudent, suspicious, modest, slow, and cool;
And when smooth Speculation pleads its Vote,
And Scripture Silence keeps, sits silent too.
Leave the sole Judge his Laws Interpreter,
Dark (for this Purpose) oft' to Man reveal'd:
Ablest his own high Cause of Attributes
To vindicate, and clear from foul Asperse.
Whether all Beings he shall save at last,
(Dear to be wish'd!) or leave them where they fell,
Fruit of self Choice, in unremitting Woe.
Sure Truth on safe-establish'd Ground to learn.
If venturing on too hazardous a Sea,
Thy Bark thou risque not, with thy Compass lost.
Man's Wisdom is to know his proper Truth,
Not what best lists, but what concerns him most;
All is, beyond, but Folly, or worse Pride:
Fruit of that Tree, twice pluck'd, by which he fell.
But whether social Bands of happiest Souls
Distinction need of Gender, as on Earth,
Imports not thee, o'er curious to enquire.
Enough, if thou attain but this for sure,
Perfect they live, and perfect Best implies,
Which e'er that be, in differing Sex, or none.
Nor shall it serve thy smallest Good, if told
In what strange Way unbodied Mind subsists:
Remaining Individuate (best to think)
Or in one universal Flux convolv'd.
Labyrinth where much vain Thought has wilder'd run.
Or the Soul's Birth wou'dst thou interrogate,
Whether immediate, or long Ages past?
The same it, either Way for thee shall prove,
A mournful Truth, since laps'd indeed—how sure
Thyself can feel! small Comfort when, or where.
One Protoplast, with all his hapless Sons!
224
Save means of thy Recov'ry how to know.
Rest center'd there, on Revelation's Point
Not wand'ring tread dark Circles of the Schools:
Which would but more perplex thee, not instruct,
Much less content: wish'd End in all Research.
Truth to expect, and hold implicit Creeds
By popular Opinions, and high Names,
What falser? who, than the meer Man profound
Of Learning, the deep scienc'd, carnal Scribe
Christ's Church, in ev'ry Age, has troubled more?
Not the least Grief of her try'd, present Day.
But fly Dispute, distemp'ring long the World,
If threaten'd Torment shall for ever last?
To which thy Thought, affirmative, inclines.
Safest for Man such Thought, and wisest too,
Where Passions need their strongest Curb of Fear.
The other dangerous, and too like profane:
Seeking of God's sharp Threat to sheath the Sting;
And by bland Artifice, and soft-spun Phrase,
A Theft of Compliment, wou'd steal away
Justice that Gem essential of his Crown.
Feigning it Honour to his Nature done
That Grace should universally redeem.
First minted in that pre-existent Forge
Of Plato, and the Crew of Cabolists.
(Specious I grant to purblind Reason fair)
Squar'd well to suit their Fable of the Soul,
225
And many Lapses must have many Cures.
Thus God, as Just, must cease; for God, as Good?
Bold Mutilation of the Deity!
That (worse than Babel Insolence) would build
God's Goodness on the Ruins of his Truth.
Accounting Nought is Good but what is Kind;
Not measuring it by Wisdom's Line: and what
Is Justice Self, but Goodness, modify'd?
And Punishment is Good where Sin is Ill,
Shou'd that ev'n endless be, while this exists.
Faith is a Sceptic in Philosophy;
Prudent, suspicious, modest, slow, and cool;
And when smooth Speculation pleads its Vote,
And Scripture Silence keeps, sits silent too.
Leave the sole Judge his Laws Interpreter,
Dark (for this Purpose) oft' to Man reveal'd:
Ablest his own high Cause of Attributes
To vindicate, and clear from foul Asperse.
Whether all Beings he shall save at last,
(Dear to be wish'd!) or leave them where they fell,
Fruit of self Choice, in unremitting Woe.
I paus'd for Answer, with the Influence aw'd
Of reasoning so divine; when pleasing Speech,
Not clos'd, the gentle Monitor resum'd.
Of reasoning so divine; when pleasing Speech,
Not clos'd, the gentle Monitor resum'd.
226
Well hast thou urg'd, and grateful to my Ear
Thy Purpose, rather to investigate
Truths useful, not entangling and abstruse;
Wisdom's best Choice the Culture of the Heart.
Sublime of Christian Science, and Result
Of hard-earn'd Knowledge, Searches, Costs, and Aims.
Heat gath'ring in with Light: and what so fit
The Heart to warm as Heav'n, in nearest View?
Which I, Occasion wish'd of minist'ring,
Wait to impart; for such I have in Pow'r.
And the bright Mansions of that blissful World
(Some few faint Glimpses shadowing to thy Eye)
Will point thee, in Imagination's Glass:
Made pure, and plac'd the Objects best to show.
Thy Purpose, rather to investigate
Truths useful, not entangling and abstruse;
Wisdom's best Choice the Culture of the Heart.
Sublime of Christian Science, and Result
Of hard-earn'd Knowledge, Searches, Costs, and Aims.
Heat gath'ring in with Light: and what so fit
The Heart to warm as Heav'n, in nearest View?
Which I, Occasion wish'd of minist'ring,
Wait to impart; for such I have in Pow'r.
And the bright Mansions of that blissful World
(Some few faint Glimpses shadowing to thy Eye)
Will point thee, in Imagination's Glass:
Made pure, and plac'd the Objects best to show.
Scarce were the Accents ended, e'er my Soul
(Loos'd, or in this Corporeal, hard to tell)
Felt Transportation wonderful, like His
(The Gentiles great Apostle fitly stiled)
To the third Heav'n up-caught, or like, what once
Ezekiel knew, whom sudden by the Hair,
The Angel (in the Visions, high, of God)
From far Assyria's Land, a spacious Tract,
Bore thro' the Firmament; and in the Courts
Of antient Salem's Temple sat him down.
Such, and much stranger my Transition seem'd:
Brought to a Temple more magnificent,
With glist'ring Pavements, and transplendent Domes.
Before whose adamantine Portals, large,
A Troop of lovely Graces waiting sat
In comely Order; oft' dismiss'd to Earth
On high Employment, by the Sovereign King.
Faith in the radiant Circle first appear'd:
A royal Stole her princely Shoulders spread
Impurpled deep in Blood; and in one Hand
A Book she held, inscrib'd The Word of God:”
The other fastly clasp'd a Cross, on which,
Immoveable, she fix'd her earnest Eye.
Close by her Side sat Hope her Sister-Twin:
Lent on an Anchor her enfolded Arms,
With Aspect turn'd inquisitive, to gaze
Within the Vail. Next, lowly at her Feet,
Sat Patience, smiling, in an Anchorite's Weed.
And Love was there, below call'd Charity,
Wing-footed, as they tell of Maia's Son:
Matchless in Speed, the Nuncio of the Skies:
Holding his kindled Torch, in saffron Vest
Array'd; with Wings expanded as for Flight,
That when they wav'd shone, pure, like lambent Fires.
And last was Truth's fair Championess nam'd Zeal;
Clad, as old Poets of Bellona feign,
In Mail; with Helm and Launce, and martial Scarf
All o'er inwrought with Tongues, and flaming Hearts:
She sat with Dove-ey'd Meekness Hand in Hand;
Of Cherub Countenance, and Child-like Form,
Who wore, beneath her Breasts, a Virgin Zone.
Whereon, “The Law of Kindness,” fair was wrote
In Gems, and golden Letters bright emboss'd.
We pass the sacred Entrance and arrive
Soon at the Centre of th' empyreal Fane.
Where Myriads of celestial Dignities,
In Numbers that all Number wide surpass'd,
Before my Sight their shining Forms display'd.
And Incense from their golden Censers fum'd
Of richest Odour! nor was wanting Song,
To Symphonies attun'd of dulcet Harps,
By fullest Chorus clos'd—Part, Him ador'd,
In Anthems loud extol; who once their Tribes
Redeem'd, by precious Off'ring of his Blood,
From ev'ry peopled Nation, Tongue and Clime:
Made, of Earth's Aliens, Kings and Priests to God.
Worthiest, by dread Atchievements, to receive
Trophies of Glory, Blessing, Wealth, and Pow'r.
Part, chaunt, in Airs responsive to the Lay,
Blessing and Honour, Glory, Pow'r, to Him
Eternal, on the universal Throne,
Be ever giv'n, and to th' exalted Lamb!
Then, in rais'd Voices bursts the general Quire.
Amen! they shout, and farthest Heav'n resounds
With Hallelujah; past what Heart e'er felt
Melodious, yet in strong, sonorous Force
The Stound of rushing Torrents not unlike,
Or Thunders when they croud their deepning Peals.
At Charm so aweful! so o'erpow'ring sweet!
All mortal Sense, expiring must have sunk
In the dread Blandishment; had not my Pow'rs
(Bliss-overwhelm'd) immediate Rescue found
From Voice, as of some heavenly Speaker nigh:
New Wonder thus suggesting to my Ear.
(Loos'd, or in this Corporeal, hard to tell)
Felt Transportation wonderful, like His
(The Gentiles great Apostle fitly stiled)
To the third Heav'n up-caught, or like, what once
Ezekiel knew, whom sudden by the Hair,
The Angel (in the Visions, high, of God)
From far Assyria's Land, a spacious Tract,
Bore thro' the Firmament; and in the Courts
227
Such, and much stranger my Transition seem'd:
Brought to a Temple more magnificent,
With glist'ring Pavements, and transplendent Domes.
Before whose adamantine Portals, large,
A Troop of lovely Graces waiting sat
In comely Order; oft' dismiss'd to Earth
On high Employment, by the Sovereign King.
Faith in the radiant Circle first appear'd:
A royal Stole her princely Shoulders spread
Impurpled deep in Blood; and in one Hand
A Book she held, inscrib'd The Word of God:”
The other fastly clasp'd a Cross, on which,
Immoveable, she fix'd her earnest Eye.
Close by her Side sat Hope her Sister-Twin:
Lent on an Anchor her enfolded Arms,
With Aspect turn'd inquisitive, to gaze
Within the Vail. Next, lowly at her Feet,
Sat Patience, smiling, in an Anchorite's Weed.
And Love was there, below call'd Charity,
Wing-footed, as they tell of Maia's Son:
Matchless in Speed, the Nuncio of the Skies:
Holding his kindled Torch, in saffron Vest
Array'd; with Wings expanded as for Flight,
That when they wav'd shone, pure, like lambent Fires.
And last was Truth's fair Championess nam'd Zeal;
Clad, as old Poets of Bellona feign,
228
All o'er inwrought with Tongues, and flaming Hearts:
She sat with Dove-ey'd Meekness Hand in Hand;
Of Cherub Countenance, and Child-like Form,
Who wore, beneath her Breasts, a Virgin Zone.
Whereon, “The Law of Kindness,” fair was wrote
In Gems, and golden Letters bright emboss'd.
We pass the sacred Entrance and arrive
Soon at the Centre of th' empyreal Fane.
Where Myriads of celestial Dignities,
In Numbers that all Number wide surpass'd,
Before my Sight their shining Forms display'd.
And Incense from their golden Censers fum'd
Of richest Odour! nor was wanting Song,
To Symphonies attun'd of dulcet Harps,
By fullest Chorus clos'd—Part, Him ador'd,
In Anthems loud extol; who once their Tribes
Redeem'd, by precious Off'ring of his Blood,
From ev'ry peopled Nation, Tongue and Clime:
Made, of Earth's Aliens, Kings and Priests to God.
Worthiest, by dread Atchievements, to receive
Trophies of Glory, Blessing, Wealth, and Pow'r.
Part, chaunt, in Airs responsive to the Lay,
Blessing and Honour, Glory, Pow'r, to Him
Eternal, on the universal Throne,
Be ever giv'n, and to th' exalted Lamb!
Then, in rais'd Voices bursts the general Quire.
229
With Hallelujah; past what Heart e'er felt
Melodious, yet in strong, sonorous Force
The Stound of rushing Torrents not unlike,
Or Thunders when they croud their deepning Peals.
At Charm so aweful! so o'erpow'ring sweet!
All mortal Sense, expiring must have sunk
In the dread Blandishment; had not my Pow'rs
(Bliss-overwhelm'd) immediate Rescue found
From Voice, as of some heavenly Speaker nigh:
New Wonder thus suggesting to my Ear.
Turn dear fraternal Pilgrim while I point
Thy Eye, attently fix'd, to these few Scenes.
In my weigh'd Choice, officious for thy Good
Selected: that peculiar Will to thee
Significant appear, if ponder'd well.
Thy Eye, attently fix'd, to these few Scenes.
In my weigh'd Choice, officious for thy Good
Selected: that peculiar Will to thee
Significant appear, if ponder'd well.
See'st thou that Spirit of superior Port
High in meek Majesty, that near the Throne
(Clouded with Light too dazzling for thy Eye)
Bears in his graceful Hand the Victor Palm?
Ah! wou'd'st thou think that ever (while on Earth)
So chief a Favourite should be rank'd so mean!
Affliction's heaviest Rod he once sustain'd!
Sickness besieged the harrass'd Wariour long.
Love's Suff'rings, for a numerous Infant Brood
He felt; Humanity's most bleeding Pang!
Obscurely wretched, with no helping Friend,
The Vulture Care fed daily on his Heart,
Chain'd to the Rock of Wave-vex'd Poverty.
Yet unrepining Life's worst Lot he bore.
To teach thee, how Humility must wait
E're her blest Hand, releas'd, can reach the Crown.
Faith's Triumphs are from Combat not by Rest.
When Grace some signal Hero means to train,
Storms sweep the blooming Roses from his Path.
She bids Affliction sound the Trump of War,
Leads him to thorny Difficulty's Field,
And throws before each Step a stumbling Cross.
Gold must its Trial thro' the Furnace pass;
And stand, for Proof, the Touchstone and the Scale.
High in meek Majesty, that near the Throne
(Clouded with Light too dazzling for thy Eye)
Bears in his graceful Hand the Victor Palm?
Ah! wou'd'st thou think that ever (while on Earth)
So chief a Favourite should be rank'd so mean!
Affliction's heaviest Rod he once sustain'd!
Sickness besieged the harrass'd Wariour long.
Love's Suff'rings, for a numerous Infant Brood
He felt; Humanity's most bleeding Pang!
230
The Vulture Care fed daily on his Heart,
Chain'd to the Rock of Wave-vex'd Poverty.
Yet unrepining Life's worst Lot he bore.
To teach thee, how Humility must wait
E're her blest Hand, releas'd, can reach the Crown.
Faith's Triumphs are from Combat not by Rest.
When Grace some signal Hero means to train,
Storms sweep the blooming Roses from his Path.
She bids Affliction sound the Trump of War,
Leads him to thorny Difficulty's Field,
And throws before each Step a stumbling Cross.
Gold must its Trial thro' the Furnace pass;
And stand, for Proof, the Touchstone and the Scale.
See'st thou that other choice illustrious Form,
In Vestments glistring bright? like Mountain-Snows,
When their broad Sheets spread, opening, to the Sun.
How chang'd, from what in Nature's Filth he wore!
So foul! one Spot of Vice throughout he seem'd.
Sensual, profane—the Monster had his Step
Just set in Hell; 'till Conscience rung alarm,
Conscience, let loose: the Hurricane of Fiends!
He flies to Duty to appease the Storm;
Toils in vain Washings, Penance, Fasts, and Prayers,
And gains a Self-wrought Righteousness, misdeem'd
By blind Legality, the Wedding Robe.
For, not from Life he works. Now plum'd he stands
On his own boasted Strength, a sandy Base.
Anon Temptation arms: he fights—and falls.
Down drop his Resolutions, Courage, Peace,
All his proud Armour spoil'd. In many a Fray
Stir'd, by rash Confidence, new Fight to wage
He ventures desperate, and is vanquish'd still.
Where is he now? in his first State or worse!
Despondence, with his Giant Foot, insults
O'er his prone Captive, weak (by Proof) confest.
When Faith a strong Deliverer points him near,
The pitying Jesus; Him, with trembling Hand
He importuning holds, and, on his Touch,
A purer Righteousness, an abler Might,
A different Life and Nature seels infus'd.
On his bruis'd Heart the melting Saviour pours
(That good Samaritan) his precious Oyl,
From his own Wounds, the sov'reign bleeding Balm.
—Thus Grace has giv'n true Strength, but gives not Pow'r
Completely to fulfill strict, rigorous Law,
That no Abatement grants. Law binds to Death;
This, too, he sees discharg'd.—O what a Peace,
A Friend how all-sufficient has he found!
With Sin, the curst Canaanite on watch,
Disturbing still the Camp (a Foe block'd up,
But yet within the Fort) in shameful Soils
In mourn'd Defeats, to the dear Blood he hastes
Of daily Sprinkling.—His redeeming King
Fights all his hardy Battles, covers safe
His Head from Dangers, in his Hand sustains
His Saint when slipping, and when fall'n restores.
A Victor prov'd the vanquish'd; fought his way,
Led by his glorious Chief, thro' all the Pow'rs
Of Guilt and Hell, where now he wears the Crown.
In Vestments glistring bright? like Mountain-Snows,
When their broad Sheets spread, opening, to the Sun.
How chang'd, from what in Nature's Filth he wore!
So foul! one Spot of Vice throughout he seem'd.
Sensual, profane—the Monster had his Step
Just set in Hell; 'till Conscience rung alarm,
Conscience, let loose: the Hurricane of Fiends!
He flies to Duty to appease the Storm;
Toils in vain Washings, Penance, Fasts, and Prayers,
And gains a Self-wrought Righteousness, misdeem'd
By blind Legality, the Wedding Robe.
For, not from Life he works. Now plum'd he stands
231
Anon Temptation arms: he fights—and falls.
Down drop his Resolutions, Courage, Peace,
All his proud Armour spoil'd. In many a Fray
Stir'd, by rash Confidence, new Fight to wage
He ventures desperate, and is vanquish'd still.
Where is he now? in his first State or worse!
Despondence, with his Giant Foot, insults
O'er his prone Captive, weak (by Proof) confest.
When Faith a strong Deliverer points him near,
The pitying Jesus; Him, with trembling Hand
He importuning holds, and, on his Touch,
A purer Righteousness, an abler Might,
A different Life and Nature seels infus'd.
On his bruis'd Heart the melting Saviour pours
(That good Samaritan) his precious Oyl,
From his own Wounds, the sov'reign bleeding Balm.
—Thus Grace has giv'n true Strength, but gives not Pow'r
Completely to fulfill strict, rigorous Law,
That no Abatement grants. Law binds to Death;
This, too, he sees discharg'd.—O what a Peace,
A Friend how all-sufficient has he found!
With Sin, the curst Canaanite on watch,
Disturbing still the Camp (a Foe block'd up,
But yet within the Fort) in shameful Soils
In mourn'd Defeats, to the dear Blood he hastes
Of daily Sprinkling.—His redeeming King
232
His Head from Dangers, in his Hand sustains
His Saint when slipping, and when fall'n restores.
A Victor prov'd the vanquish'd; fought his way,
Led by his glorious Chief, thro' all the Pow'rs
Of Guilt and Hell, where now he wears the Crown.
Yon raptur'd Saint beholdst thou? just arriv'd
From thy far World; whence, ev'ry changing Hour,
The Convoy-Hosts with some new Charge return.
How blest an Alteration has he found,
From what his gloomy Fears were wont to form!
Dim were his Views, his Raptures few below.
Darkness had seiz'd him, tho' a Child of Light.
Dismay'd thro' his whole Pilgrimage he walk'd;
In deep Complaints, in holy Sadnesses,
And died on the black Confines of Despair.
Such Horror may the sav'd Believer know:
The lax Backslider, or the strict in Watch,
Who (on his Tears, or Duties, stay'd for Peace)
His Comforts from himself perversely seeks;
And lives not on his Saviour, but his Frames.
Comforts are sweet, a choice wish'd Privilege,
But not Essentials that insure our Crown;
Which oft' wise Love it's dearest Saint denies.
We count bright Days and Calms must follow Pray'r,
Forgetting that in Scripture stands enroll'd
A mourning Heman, and a tempted Job.
A leading Moses must, himself, on Earth
Fruition be deny'd of that good Land:
But once, short-favour'd with the transient Sight.
When Doubt o'ershades thee with dejecting Thought
Call to remembrance Him, before thy Eye:
How false his Apprehensions! which he tells
(Hark! thou may'st hear him!) to the list'ning Throng.
If e'er a Blush can stain thy Cheek in Heav'n,
'Twill be at Memory of base Unbelief.
From thy far World; whence, ev'ry changing Hour,
The Convoy-Hosts with some new Charge return.
How blest an Alteration has he found,
From what his gloomy Fears were wont to form!
Dim were his Views, his Raptures few below.
Darkness had seiz'd him, tho' a Child of Light.
Dismay'd thro' his whole Pilgrimage he walk'd;
In deep Complaints, in holy Sadnesses,
And died on the black Confines of Despair.
Such Horror may the sav'd Believer know:
The lax Backslider, or the strict in Watch,
Who (on his Tears, or Duties, stay'd for Peace)
His Comforts from himself perversely seeks;
And lives not on his Saviour, but his Frames.
Comforts are sweet, a choice wish'd Privilege,
But not Essentials that insure our Crown;
Which oft' wise Love it's dearest Saint denies.
We count bright Days and Calms must follow Pray'r,
Forgetting that in Scripture stands enroll'd
A mourning Heman, and a tempted Job.
233
Fruition be deny'd of that good Land:
But once, short-favour'd with the transient Sight.
When Doubt o'ershades thee with dejecting Thought
Call to remembrance Him, before thy Eye:
How false his Apprehensions! which he tells
(Hark! thou may'st hear him!) to the list'ning Throng.
If e'er a Blush can stain thy Cheek in Heav'n,
'Twill be at Memory of base Unbelief.
I heard no more—I listen'd close, and long—
But all was hush'd!—I gaz'd, but all was Blank!
Nought spoke; or to my Ear, or in my Eye!
Ah me! 'twas o'er—each Prospect chang'd and fled!
Like what (not seldom) on a Winter's Morn
The Trav'ler spies, when the Night-Vapour frore
Has with a feathery, mimic Foliage drest
The whiten'd Groves, and ev'ry Bush and Spray;
That leave, with the first Blast, a naked Scene.
No wonder mine so prov'd; for from the Top
Of Speculation's Mount, with swift Descent,
Back in the Views again of joyless Earth,
Th' Intelligent had brought me; which, perceiv'd,
Hy Heart in heaviest Disappointment left.
As when a Hill, deceptive of the Eye
Seems close at Hand (some hollow Way between
O'ergaz'd by Sight) at the Plain's farthest End,
Where the Path seem'd to touch, the Trav'ller brought
Sees a wide Valley left him yet to pass,
So paus'd I sad a while; then broke abrupt,
Shook with such Paralitic as, 'tis thought,
Fix'd sometime on th' entrans'd Apostle's Speech
Trembling Impediment; the Thorn (perhaps)
Felt in his Flesh . Ah! how shall e'er, I cry'd,
(With faint, with stammering Voice) how ever more
This Exile Bondage of terrestrial bear!
Happier to not have seen, than leave for Pangs
Of-deadliest Absence this celestial Clime!
To tread again below the darksome Vale,
From that pure Land of Light; and combat new
Corruptions, Miseries, Sickness, Fears, and Death!
Me! miserably blest!—to taste afresh
Infectious Poisons from Pollution's Cup,
Sweeten'd with Flatteries by the Traitor Heart,
And tire Repentance with my tardy Cure!
To feel Temptation's Spring, Lust's Summer-Heats,
And Grace's Winter, in my Soul's dead Year!
And find my Sun withdraw, and long, dread Night
Hang o'er my North—a Borderer on the Pole.—
But I must bear it!—Up to those dear Hills
My Soul on the safe Dove-like Wings shall climb
Of Hope and Love, and ost look out for Dawn.
Nor always look in vain, wish'd Light shall rise,
Death shall my Morn of vernal Equinox,
And better, my eternal Day restore.
But all was hush'd!—I gaz'd, but all was Blank!
Nought spoke; or to my Ear, or in my Eye!
Ah me! 'twas o'er—each Prospect chang'd and fled!
Like what (not seldom) on a Winter's Morn
The Trav'ler spies, when the Night-Vapour frore
Has with a feathery, mimic Foliage drest
The whiten'd Groves, and ev'ry Bush and Spray;
That leave, with the first Blast, a naked Scene.
No wonder mine so prov'd; for from the Top
Of Speculation's Mount, with swift Descent,
Back in the Views again of joyless Earth,
Th' Intelligent had brought me; which, perceiv'd,
Hy Heart in heaviest Disappointment left.
As when a Hill, deceptive of the Eye
Seems close at Hand (some hollow Way between
O'ergaz'd by Sight) at the Plain's farthest End,
234
Sees a wide Valley left him yet to pass,
So paus'd I sad a while; then broke abrupt,
Shook with such Paralitic as, 'tis thought,
Fix'd sometime on th' entrans'd Apostle's Speech
Trembling Impediment; the Thorn (perhaps)
Felt in his Flesh . Ah! how shall e'er, I cry'd,
(With faint, with stammering Voice) how ever more
This Exile Bondage of terrestrial bear!
Happier to not have seen, than leave for Pangs
Of-deadliest Absence this celestial Clime!
To tread again below the darksome Vale,
From that pure Land of Light; and combat new
Corruptions, Miseries, Sickness, Fears, and Death!
Me! miserably blest!—to taste afresh
Infectious Poisons from Pollution's Cup,
Sweeten'd with Flatteries by the Traitor Heart,
And tire Repentance with my tardy Cure!
To feel Temptation's Spring, Lust's Summer-Heats,
And Grace's Winter, in my Soul's dead Year!
And find my Sun withdraw, and long, dread Night
Hang o'er my North—a Borderer on the Pole.—
But I must bear it!—Up to those dear Hills
My Soul on the safe Dove-like Wings shall climb
Of Hope and Love, and ost look out for Dawn.
Nor always look in vain, wish'd Light shall rise,
235
And better, my eternal Day restore.
I droop'd not long for Answer (such as hears
Some Mourner from his soft condoling Friend)
But, quick, the sympathising Form reply'd.
Some Mourner from his soft condoling Friend)
But, quick, the sympathising Form reply'd.
Think not that, now, so distant from his Bliss
The Christian lives; a neutral State he holds,
His Flesh in Service here, his Heart in Heav'n.
Use, not contemn, thy Lot of present Life:
Best for thee (Yet) be grateful, and content.
Nor, by a Zeal, o'erstrain'd, of Sanctity,
Reject what Good, to cheer Thee, Heav'n bestows:
Not for thy Portion, but thy Solace meant.
Taste as Refreshment—they as much abuse
The Giver's Kindness, who quite slight the Gift;
Which speaks their close Suspicions, and upbraids
His Blessings as but Baits to hide a Snare.
There is, of Life, a sinful Weariness,
An Avarice for the Hire without the Work;
A meer gross, carnal, forc'd Severity,
That by it's sullen, peevish, moap'd Deport
Seems from it's Pleasures with a Grudge to part,
And loves to rust, in Sloth's feign'd-saintly Cowl.
Man's Post is in the World, and not his Cell,
Dissembling Hardiness by Coward Flight.
Safe in Enjoyments, while o'ervaluing none
Keep thy strait Course, in Sunshine, Wave and Storm.
As well thro' Sea as dangerous Wilderness,
O'er many a Shole, rough Gulph, and lurking Sand
Thy Passage lies; like him of Ithaca
Long Homeward wand'ring after ten Years War.
Learn by his Wisdom; stop thy deafen'd Ear
To Beauties Syrens, fly from Circe's Shore.
But above all keep wide thy sailing Bark,
From two dire Rocks, Security and Pride.
Fatal as those twin-Monsters, said of old
To haunt for Prey the fear'd Sicilian Deep.
Look not for lasting Calms, but while they last
Improve them, and for changing Skies provide;
From Wreck ne'er safe 'till haven'd in thy Port.
Nor trust thy Vessel with too swoln a Sail!
In thy best Duties, in thy holiest Walk,
Despise not others, nor thyself exalt.
By thy good Pilot steer, Humility!
And thrust proud Thought, that Dæmon, from the Helm.
Thus, launch'd on Ocean, or thro' Desart led,
Live Faith's laborious Life: each cautious Step
Take, closely, by thy Rule the written Word,
Read by the Spitit's inward-shining Beari.
When Way-laid and assaulted, ne'er in Thought
Stand reasoning with Corruption; 'tis a Snare
Will catch thy Feet; thy Safety lies in Flight,
With Eyes glanc'd up in Pray'r-ejaculate.
Weapon, that will be found, of wond'rous Proof!
Walk in the Pilgrim-Spirit; round thy Loins
See thy Vest girt succinct, thy kindled Lamp
High-lifted in thy Hand, and on thy Staff
Of Promise stay'd, hold cheerful on thy Way.
Nor cheerish least Distrust that him thou lov'st
Will e'er disclaim thee; but thy Work sincere,
Wrought with much Weakness, will thro' Grace accept,
And thy prais'd, final Perseverance crown.
I shall thy safe Arrival, in the Train
Of Pilgrim-Friends, with gladest welcome hail,
And all the Blest—'till when, my Hour fulfill'd
In Charge assign'd me, I must up return;—
I will not say to leave thee, but to wait
When thou shalt follow; whom my Love, not small,
With tend'rest Benediction bids farewel.
The Christian lives; a neutral State he holds,
His Flesh in Service here, his Heart in Heav'n.
Use, not contemn, thy Lot of present Life:
Best for thee (Yet) be grateful, and content.
Nor, by a Zeal, o'erstrain'd, of Sanctity,
Reject what Good, to cheer Thee, Heav'n bestows:
Not for thy Portion, but thy Solace meant.
Taste as Refreshment—they as much abuse
The Giver's Kindness, who quite slight the Gift;
Which speaks their close Suspicions, and upbraids
His Blessings as but Baits to hide a Snare.
There is, of Life, a sinful Weariness,
An Avarice for the Hire without the Work;
A meer gross, carnal, forc'd Severity,
That by it's sullen, peevish, moap'd Deport
Seems from it's Pleasures with a Grudge to part,
And loves to rust, in Sloth's feign'd-saintly Cowl.
Man's Post is in the World, and not his Cell,
Dissembling Hardiness by Coward Flight.
Safe in Enjoyments, while o'ervaluing none
236
As well thro' Sea as dangerous Wilderness,
O'er many a Shole, rough Gulph, and lurking Sand
Thy Passage lies; like him of Ithaca
Long Homeward wand'ring after ten Years War.
Learn by his Wisdom; stop thy deafen'd Ear
To Beauties Syrens, fly from Circe's Shore.
But above all keep wide thy sailing Bark,
From two dire Rocks, Security and Pride.
Fatal as those twin-Monsters, said of old
To haunt for Prey the fear'd Sicilian Deep.
Look not for lasting Calms, but while they last
Improve them, and for changing Skies provide;
From Wreck ne'er safe 'till haven'd in thy Port.
Nor trust thy Vessel with too swoln a Sail!
In thy best Duties, in thy holiest Walk,
Despise not others, nor thyself exalt.
By thy good Pilot steer, Humility!
And thrust proud Thought, that Dæmon, from the Helm.
Thus, launch'd on Ocean, or thro' Desart led,
Live Faith's laborious Life: each cautious Step
Take, closely, by thy Rule the written Word,
Read by the Spitit's inward-shining Beari.
When Way-laid and assaulted, ne'er in Thought
Stand reasoning with Corruption; 'tis a Snare
Will catch thy Feet; thy Safety lies in Flight,
With Eyes glanc'd up in Pray'r-ejaculate.
237
Walk in the Pilgrim-Spirit; round thy Loins
See thy Vest girt succinct, thy kindled Lamp
High-lifted in thy Hand, and on thy Staff
Of Promise stay'd, hold cheerful on thy Way.
Nor cheerish least Distrust that him thou lov'st
Will e'er disclaim thee; but thy Work sincere,
Wrought with much Weakness, will thro' Grace accept,
And thy prais'd, final Perseverance crown.
I shall thy safe Arrival, in the Train
Of Pilgrim-Friends, with gladest welcome hail,
And all the Blest—'till when, my Hour fulfill'd
In Charge assign'd me, I must up return;—
I will not say to leave thee, but to wait
When thou shalt follow; whom my Love, not small,
With tend'rest Benediction bids farewel.
Lost for more Words, I cou'd but just exclaim
Might I presume, O too prepar'd to part!
One short, blest Space, one little Minute more,
Might I, by Grant, obtain thy Steps to stay,
This, only, farther should I wish to learn.
(Have learnt in Part by what I late have seen)
Since Memory is in Heav'n, or how should Man
But by comparing what he was, what is,
Past, deadly Danger scap'd, with present Bliss,
His Obligations to his Saviour know,
Do Friends, long parted? in that happier State
Do Friends, yet dearer by Relations Bond—
Speak, for I see thee hast'ning—It withdrew!
No Voice rejoining!—yet, at parting left
A Look, celestial sweet, that more than Voice
Spoke pleasing'st Assentation in my Ear.
When anxious yet to snatch a last, wish'd Glance,
Struck Memory back recoil'd! I turn'd, and knew
The gaz'd lov'd Form! the dear Sophronia's Shade!
Nor more had Speech to call, nor Sense to gaze.
But, all o'erpow'r'd with tenderest Extasy,
Thus, to myself, in silent Thoughts convers'd.
Might I presume, O too prepar'd to part!
One short, blest Space, one little Minute more,
Might I, by Grant, obtain thy Steps to stay,
This, only, farther should I wish to learn.
(Have learnt in Part by what I late have seen)
Since Memory is in Heav'n, or how should Man
But by comparing what he was, what is,
Past, deadly Danger scap'd, with present Bliss,
His Obligations to his Saviour know,
238
Do Friends, yet dearer by Relations Bond—
Speak, for I see thee hast'ning—It withdrew!
No Voice rejoining!—yet, at parting left
A Look, celestial sweet, that more than Voice
Spoke pleasing'st Assentation in my Ear.
When anxious yet to snatch a last, wish'd Glance,
Struck Memory back recoil'd! I turn'd, and knew
The gaz'd lov'd Form! the dear Sophronia's Shade!
Nor more had Speech to call, nor Sense to gaze.
But, all o'erpow'r'd with tenderest Extasy,
Thus, to myself, in silent Thoughts convers'd.
Adieu! for ever dear! for ever blest
Adieu!—ah! when shall that sad Word of Woe
Be utter'd, from my Grief-taught Heart, no more!—
'Tis She, that whispers Patience to my Dream,
Calms my long midnight Watches, and inspires
Devotion, in my Eve-spent Solitudes.
Too rapturous Consolation here to tell!—
Oh! be thy self my Pattern! thy blest Lore
My Study! how like Bliss, Parental Saint!
I may attain.—On this, a Text divine,
Let my Life preach! my Sanctity! my Faith!
My active Zeal! my warm, laborious Love!
What thy own Comment has explain'd so well.
And when, as now, on my last Bed of Pains
My Mortal shall be mould'ring, laid to waste,
(Fit to be held to Expectations view,
When Time is wint'ring on my Head with Grey)
When at the Limits of my final Stage,
The Pilgrim just at Home, with nought but Death,
That intercepting Jordan, in my Way;
Instant, its gulphy Waves about to pass.
Be then my Eve all hush'd as Summer-Calms!
Clear without Vapour, let my Sun go down,
A setting Brightness! 'till on Canaan's Shore
My Feet shall rest; Emanuel's promis'd Land.
There his pleas'd Face admitted to behold,
With better Wreath than fading Laurel-Crown
Rewarded, and presenting loftier Strain
Before my King!—Not with the Pharisee
In Self-exulting Boast, “I thank thee God!”
Not with the Prodigal, tho' Penitent
In Rags of Righteousness. May I appear
(From the lov'd Bridegroom's own rich Wardrobe clad)
In Righteousness, not mine, but purer far
Wrought by himself, compleat: no less my own
By imputative Merit; that safe Rock
For dying Hope her Bark to anchor sure
In the Night-Wreck; when ev'ry Shelf beside
Will prove a treacherous Quick-Sand of Despair.
Adieu!—ah! when shall that sad Word of Woe
Be utter'd, from my Grief-taught Heart, no more!—
'Tis She, that whispers Patience to my Dream,
Calms my long midnight Watches, and inspires
Devotion, in my Eve-spent Solitudes.
Too rapturous Consolation here to tell!—
Oh! be thy self my Pattern! thy blest Lore
My Study! how like Bliss, Parental Saint!
I may attain.—On this, a Text divine,
Let my Life preach! my Sanctity! my Faith!
My active Zeal! my warm, laborious Love!
What thy own Comment has explain'd so well.
And when, as now, on my last Bed of Pains
My Mortal shall be mould'ring, laid to waste,
239
When Time is wint'ring on my Head with Grey)
When at the Limits of my final Stage,
The Pilgrim just at Home, with nought but Death,
That intercepting Jordan, in my Way;
Instant, its gulphy Waves about to pass.
Be then my Eve all hush'd as Summer-Calms!
Clear without Vapour, let my Sun go down,
A setting Brightness! 'till on Canaan's Shore
My Feet shall rest; Emanuel's promis'd Land.
There his pleas'd Face admitted to behold,
With better Wreath than fading Laurel-Crown
Rewarded, and presenting loftier Strain
Before my King!—Not with the Pharisee
In Self-exulting Boast, “I thank thee God!”
Not with the Prodigal, tho' Penitent
In Rags of Righteousness. May I appear
(From the lov'd Bridegroom's own rich Wardrobe clad)
In Righteousness, not mine, but purer far
Wrought by himself, compleat: no less my own
By imputative Merit; that safe Rock
For dying Hope her Bark to anchor sure
In the Night-Wreck; when ev'ry Shelf beside
Will prove a treacherous Quick-Sand of Despair.
So, from some Dream the timorous Infant woke,
That finds itself alone, with Darkness round,
For Succour lifts its little helpless Hands:
Unable how to tell its sad Distress.
—Soon as the Parent's pitying Voice it hears,
It stops its Moan; Sleep stills its trembling Heart,
Dropt, gently, in its careful Guardian's Arms.
That finds itself alone, with Darkness round,
240
Unable how to tell its sad Distress.
—Soon as the Parent's pitying Voice it hears,
It stops its Moan; Sleep stills its trembling Heart,
Dropt, gently, in its careful Guardian's Arms.
Chap. lii. beginning (as the Connexion ought to be) at 13 v. and continued through the whole liii. Chap.
See the Rabbinical Writers: and Spicilegium Patrum, said to be written by the Patriarch Enoch, and published in Greek by Dr. Grabe, to which many of the Fathers, and St. Jude is thought to refer.
THE END.
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