Poems on Several Occasions :: :: University of Virginia Library

Nor in the Time of my Distress conceal
Thy sacred Presence with a cloudy Veil.
When in the Days of Woe to thee I cry,
Incline thine Ear and give a prompt Reply.
My wasted Days in pining Sorrow wear;
Like rising Smoke which vanishes in Air.
My solid Bones with secret Grief decay,
As smooth'ring Brands in Embers fall away.
My wounded Heart, to deep Dejection cast,
Withers, like Verdure by a piercing Blast:
No needful Food invites my sickly Taste.
My Breast is tortur'd with incessant Groans:
And scarce my Skin invests my starting Bones.
Like pensive Swans in sedgy Lakes I moan;
Or Birds of Night who dwell in Wilds alone:
As widow'd Sparrows on the Roof deplore,
When their lov'd Mates return to them no more.
While, all the live long Day, my Foes engage
In vile Reproach, and Vows of frantic Rage.
My Palate, now with bitter ashes fed,
Forgets the vital Nourishment of Bread:
No gen'rous Wine my flowing Goblet fills,
But the salt Stream, which from my Eyes distills.
Such Grief thy Indignation does require;
And such Effects attends thy dreadful Ire:
For thou hast rais'd me, for a surer Blow,
And cast me then precipitous below.
My fleeting Days insensibly decline,
Like creeping Shadows from the horal Line:
The Vigour of my languid Prime decays,
Like Grass that fades beneath the solar Rays.

214

But thy Existence, Lord! shall ever last:
No Flux of Time shall thy Memorial waste.
Yet shalt thou rise, and in Indulgence great,
Shall grace thy Sion, once thy favour'd Seat:
'Tis now the Time her Glory to restore,
Confirm'd by Fate to this auspicious Hour.
Her ruin'd Heaps thy Servants Thoughts employ:
Her Dust inspires a melancholy Joy.
O Lord! the Nations shall revere thy Name;
And Earth's proud Monarchs tremble at thy Fame.
When Sion's God again her Walls shall raise,
And there conspicuous in his Glory blaze.
He hears the Pray'r of the neglected Train:
Nor shall they sue to him and sue in vain.
This Roll of lasting Record shall engage
The fix'd Attention of the future Age:
A Race unborn, and to the Light unknown,
With joyous Hymns the Deity shall own.
He from his Sanctuary far on high
Casts down his Eyes; the Lord from yonder Sky
Beholds the Globe of Earth beneath him lye.
He, with relenting Pity, hears complain
The groaning Captives; and he breaks their Chain,
Whom their stern Foes have destin'd to be slain.
The sacred Name in Sion they shall praise;
Jerusalem shall sound with mystic Lays:
While various Nations shall in Union join,
And distant Realms, to serve the Pow'r Divine.
But he exhausts my Strength, and checks my Race:
And bounds my Days in more contracted Space.

215

My God! said I, O! take me not away,
Snatch'd from the full Meridian of my Day:
Thy Years for ever last, unconscious of Decay.
Thou, at primæval Nature's early Birth,
Hast lay'd the deep Foundations of the Earth;
Above the azure Veil of Heav'n expands,
And is the beauteous Fabric of thy Hands,
Yet they shall perish, thou remain the same;
And Age, like worn Attire, shall waste their Frame:
For thou shall lay them as a Robe aside,
And with their Beauty vanishes their Pride.
Thou, only thou no Change shalt ever know;
Thy Years alone without a Period flow.
A Course of long Succession shall maintain,
The favour'd Line of thy devoted Train:
And in thy Presence shall the Race remain.