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The Works of the Reverend and Learned Isaac Watts, D. D.

Containing, besides his Sermons, and Essays on miscellaneous subjects, several additional pieces, Selected from his Manuscripts by the Rev. Dr. Jennings, and the Rev. Dr. Doddridge, in 1753: to which are prefixed, memoirs of the life of the author, compiled by the Rev. George Burder. In six volumes

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BOOK I. SACRED TO DEVOTION AND PIETY.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
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 VIII. 


422

BOOK I. SACRED TO DEVOTION AND PIETY.

Worshipping with Fear.

I

Who dares attempt th'eternal name
With notes of mortal sound?
Dangers and glories guard the theme,
And spread despair around.

II

Destruction waits t'obey his frown,
And heav'n attends his smile:
A wreath of lightning arms his crown,
But love adorns it still.

III

Celestial King, our spirits lie,
Trembling beneath thy feet,
And wish, and cast a longing eye,
To reach thy lofty seat.

IV

When shall we see the great Unknown,
And in thy presence stand?
Reveal the splendors of thy throne,
But shield us with thy hand.

V

In thee what endless wonders meet!
What various glory shines!
The crossing rays too fiercely beat
Upon our fainting minds.

VI

Angels are lost in sweet surprise
If thou unveil thy grace;
And humble awe runs thro' the skies,
When wrath arrays thy face.

VII

When mercy joins with majesty
To spread their beams abroad,
Not all their fairest minds on high
Are shadows of a God.

VIII

Thy works the strongest seraph sings
In a too feeble strain,
And labours hard on all his strings
To reach thy thoughts in vain.

IX

Created powers, how weak they be!
How short our praises fall!
So much a-kin to nothing we,
And thou th'eternal All.

Asking Leave to Sing.

I

Yet, mighty God, indulge my tongue,
Nor let thy thunders roar,
Whilst the young notes and vent'rous song
To worlds of glory soar.

II

If thou my darling flight forbid
The muse folds up her wings;
Or at thy word her slender reed
Attempts almighty things.

III

Her slender reed inspir'd by thee
Bids a new Eden grow,
With blooming life on every tree,
And spreads a heav'n below.

IV

She mocks the trumpet's loud alarms
Fill'd with thy dreadful breath;
And calls th'angelic hosts to arms,
To give the nations death.

V

But when she tastes her Saviour's love,
And feels the rapture strong,
Scarce the divinest harp above
Aims at a sweeter song.

424

Divine Judgments.

I.

Not from the dust my sorrows spring,
Nor drop my comforts from the lower skies:
Let all the baneful planets shed
Their mingled curses on my head,
How vain their curses, if th'eternal King
Look thro' the clouds and bless me with his eyes.
Creatures with all their boasted sway
Are but his slaves, and must obey;
They wait their orders from above,
And execute his word, the vengeance, or the love.

II.

'Tis by a warrant from his hand
The gentler gales are bound to sleep:
The north wind blusters, and assumes command
Over the desart and the deep;
Old Boreas with his freezing pow'rs
Turns the earth iron, makes the ocean glass,
Arrests the dancing riv'lets as they pass,
And chains them moveless to their shores;
The grazing ox lows to the gelid skies,
Walks o'er the marble meads with withering eyes,
Walks o'er the solid lakes, snuffs up the wind, and dies.

III.

Fly to the polar world, my song,
And mourn the pilgrims there, (a wretched throng!)
Seiz'd and bound in rigid chains,
A troop of statues on the Russian plains,
And life stands frozen in the purple veins.
Atheist, forbear; no more blaspheme:
God has a thousand terrors in his name,
A thousand armies at command,
Waiting the signal of his hand,
And magazines of frost, and magazines of flame.
Dress thee in steel to meet his wrath;
His sharp artillery from the north
Shall pierce thee to the soul, and shake thy mortal frame.
Sublime on winter's rugged wings
He rides in arms along the sky,
And scatters fate on swains and kings;
And flocks and herds, and nations die;
While impious lips, profanely bold,
Grow pale; and, quivering at his dreadful cold,
Give their own blasphemies the lie.

IV.

The mischiefs that infest the earth,
When the hot dog-star fires the realms on high,
Drought and disease, and cruel dearth,
Are but the flashes of a wrathful eye
From the incens'd divinity.
In vain our parching palates thirst,
For vital food in vain we cry,
And pant for vital breath;
The verdant fields are burnt to dust,
The sun has drunk the channels dry,
And all the air is death.
Ye scourges of our Maker's rod,
'Tis at his dread command, at his imperial nod
You deal your various plagues abroad.

V.

Hail, whirlwinds, hurricanes and floods
That all the leafy standards strip,
And bear down with a mighty sweep
The riches of the fields, and honours of the wood;
Storms, that ravage o'er the deep,
And bury millions in the waves;
Earthquakes, that in midnight-sleep
Turn cities into heaps, and make our beds our graves?
While you dispense your mortal harms,
'Tis the Creator's voice that sounds your loud alarms,
When guilt with louder cries provokes a God to arms.

VI.

O for a message from above
To bear my spirits up!
Some pledge of my Creator's love
To calm my terrors, and support my hope!
Let waves and thunders mix and roar,
Be thou my God, and the whole world is mine:
While thou art sov'reign, I'm secure;
I shall be rich till thou art poor;
For all I fear, and all I wish, heav'n, earth and hell are thine.

Earth and Heaven.

I.

Hast thou not seen, impatient boy?
Hast thou not read the solemn truth,
That gray experience writes for giddy youth
On every mortal joy?
‘Pleasure must be dash'd with pain:’
And yet with heedless haste,
The thirsty boy repeats the taste,
Nor hearkens to despair, but tries the bowl again,
The rills of pleasure never run sincere;
(Earth has no unpolluted spring)
From the curs'd soil some dang'rous taint they bear;
So roses grow on thorns, and honey wears a sting.

II.

In vain we seek a heaven below the sky;
The world has false, but flatt'ring charms;
Its distant joys shew big in our esteem,
But lessen still as they draw near the eye;
In our embrace the visions die,
And when we grasp the airy forms
We lose the pleasing dream.

425

III.

Earth, with her scenes of gay delight,
Is but a landscape rudely drawn,
With glaring colours and false light;
Distance commends it to the sight,
For fools to gaze upon;
But bring the nauseous daubing nigh,
Coarse and confus'd the hideous figures lie,
Dissolve the pleasure, and offend the eye.

IV.

Look up, my soul, pant tow'rd th'eternal hills;
Those heav'ns are fairer than they seem;
There pleasures all sincere glide on in crystal rills,
There not a dreg of guilt defiles,
Nor grief disturbs the stream.
That Canaan knows no noxious thing,
No cursed soil, no tainted spring,
Nor roses grow on thorns, nor honey wears a sting.

Felicity Above.

I

No, 'tis in vain to seek for bliss;
For bliss can ne'er be found
Till we arrive where Jesus is,
And tread on heav'nly ground.

II

There's nothing round these painted skies,
Or round this dusty clod;
Nothing, my soul, that's worth thy joys,
Or lovely as thy God.

III

'Tis heav'n on earth to taste his love,
To feel his quick'ning grace;
And all the heav'n I hope above
Is but to see his face.

IV

Why move my years in slow delay?
O God of ages! why?
Let the spheres cleave, and mark my way
To the superior sky.

V

Dear sov'reign, break these vital strings
That bind me to my clay;
Take me, Uriel, on thy wings,
And stretch and soar away.

God's Dominion and Decrees.

I

Keep silence, all created things,
And wait your Maker's nod:
The muse stands trembling while she sings
The honours of her God.

II

Life, death, and hell, and worlds unknown
Hang on his firm decree:
He sits on no precarious throne,
Nor borrows leave to be.

III

Th'almighty voice bid ancient night
Her endless realms resign,
And lo, ten thousand globes of light
In fields of azure shine.

IV

Now wisdom with superior sway
Guides the vast moving frame,
Whilst all the ranks of beings pay
Deep rev'rence to his name.

V

He spake: The sun obedient stood,
And held the falling day:
Old Jordan backward drives his flood,
And disappoints the sea.

VI

Lord of the armies of the sky,
He marshals all the stars;
Red comets lift their banners high,
And wide proclaim his wars.

VII

Chain'd to his throne a volume lies,
With all the fates of men,
With every angel's form and size
Drawn by th'eternal pen.

VIII

His providence unfolds the book,
And makes his counsels shine:
Each opening leaf, and every stroke,
Fulfils some deep design.

IX

Here he exalts neglected worms
To sceptres and a crown;
Anon the following page he turns,
And treads the monarchs down.

X

Not Gabriel asks the reason why,
Nor God the reason gives;
Nor dares the favourite-angel pry
Between the folded leaves.

XI

My God, I never long'd to see
My fate with curious eyes,
What gloomy lines are writ for me,
Or what bright scenes shall rise.

XII

In thy fair book of life and grace
May I but find my name,
Recorded in some humble place
Beneath my Lord the Lamb.

Self-Consecration.

I

It grieves me, Lord, it grieves me sore,
That I have liv'd to thee no more,
And wasted half my days;
My inward pow'rs shall burn and flame
With zeal and passion for thy name,
I would not speak, but for my God, nor move, but to his praise.

426

II

What are my eyes but aids to see
The glories of the deity
Inscrib'd with beams of light
On flow'rs and stars? Lord, I behold
The shining azure, green and gold;
But when I try to read thy name, a dimness veils my sight.

III

Mine ears are rais'd when Virgil sings
Sicilian swains, or Trojan kings,
And drink the music in;
Why should the trumpet's brazen voice,
Or oaten reed awake my joys,
And yet my heart so stupid lie when sacred hymns begin.

IV

Change me, O God; my flesh shall be
An instrument of song to thee,
And thou the notes inspire:
My tongue shall keep the heav'nly chime,
My cheerful pulse shall beat the time,
And sweet variety of sound shall in thy praise conspire.

V

The dearest nerve about my heart,
Should it refuse to bear a part,
With my melodious breath,
I'd tear away the vital cord,
A bloody victim to my Lord,
And live without that impious string, or show my zeal in death.

The Creator and Creatures.

I

God is a name my soul adores,
Th'almighty Three, th'eternal One;
Nature and grace, with all their pow'rs,
Confess the infinite Unknown.

II

From thy great self thy being springs:
Thou art thy own original,
Made up of uncreated things,
And self-sufficience bears them all.

III

Thy voice produc'd the seas and spheres,
Bid the waves roar, and planets shine;
But nothing like thyself appears,
Thro' all these spacious works of thine.

IV

Still restless nature dies and grows;
From change to change the creatures run:
Thy being no succession knows,
And all thy vast designs are one.

V

A glance of thine runs thro' the globes,
Rules the bright world, and moves their frame:
Broad sheets of light compose thy robes;
Thy guards are form'd of living flame.

VI

Thrones and dominions round thee fall,
And worship in submissive forms;
Thy presence shakes this lower ball,
This little dwelling-place of worms.

VII

How shall affrighted mortals dare
To sing thy glory or thy grace,
Beneath thy feet we lie so far,
And see but shadows of thy face?

VIII

Who can behold the blazing light;
Who can approach consuming flame?
None but thy wisdom knows thy might;
None but thy word can speak thy name.

The Nativity of Christ.

I

Shepherds, rejoice, lift up your eyes,
‘And send your fears away;
‘News from the region of the skies,
‘Salvation's born to-day.

II

‘Jesus, the God whom angels fear,
‘Comes down to dwell with you;
‘To-day he makes his entrance here,
‘But not as monarchs do.

III

‘No gold, nor purple swaddling bands,
‘Nor royal shining things;
‘A manger for his cradle stands
‘And holds the King of kings.

IV

‘Go, shepherds, where the infant lies,
‘And see his humble throne;
‘With tears of joy in all your eyes,
‘Go, shepherds, kiss the Son.’

V

Thus Gabriel sang, and straight around
The heav'nly armies throng;
They tune their harps to lofty sound,
And thus conclude the song:

VI

‘Glory to God that reigns above,
‘Let peace surround the earth;
‘Mortals shall know their Maker's love,
‘At their Redeemer's birth.’

VII

Lord! and shall angels have their songs,
And men no tunes to raise?
O may we lose these useless tongues
When they forget to praise!

VIII

Glory to God that reigns above,
That pitied us forlorn,
We join to sing our Maker's love,
For there's a Saviour born.

427

God glorious, and Sinners saved.

I

Father, how wide thy glory shines!
How high thy wonders rise!
Known through the earth by thousand signs,
By thousand thro' the skies.

II

Those mighty orbs proclaim thy pow'r,
Their motions speak thy skill;
And on the wings of every hour,
We read thy patience still.

III

Part of thy name divinely stands
On all thy creatures writ,
They show the labour of thine hands,
Or impress of thy feet.

IV

But when we view thy strange design
To save rebellious worms,
Where vengeance and compassion join
In their divinest forms;

V

Our thoughts are lost in reverend awe:
We love and we adore;
The first archangel never saw
So much of God before.

VI

Here the whole deity is known,
Nor dares a creature guess
Which of the glories brightest shone
The justice or the grace.

VII

When sinners broke the Father's laws,
The dying Son atones;
Oh the dear mysteries of his cross!
The triumph of his groans!

VIII

Now the full glories of the Lamb
Adorn the heav'nly plains;
Sweet cherubs learn Immanuel's name,
And try their choicest strains.

IX

O may I bear some humble part
In that immortal song!
Wonder and joys shall tune my heart,
And love command my tongue.

The humble Enquiry.

A French Sonnet imitated. 1695.

Grand Dieu, tes Jugemens, &c.

I

Grace rules below, and sits enthron'd above,
How few the sparks of wrath! how slow they move,
And drop and die in boundless seas of love!

II

But me, vile wretch! should pitying love embrace
Deep in its ocean, hell itself would blaze,
And flash and burn me thro' the boundless seas.

III

Yea, Lord, my guilt to such a vastness grown
Seems to confine thy choice to wrath alone,
And calls thy power to vindicate thy throne.

IV

Thine honour bids, ‘Avenge thy injur'd name,’
Thy slighted loves a dreadful glory claim,
While my moist tears might but incense thy flame.

V

Should heaven grow black, almighty thunder roar,
And vengeance blast me, I could plead no more,
But own thy justice dying, and adore.

VI

Yet can those bolts of death that cleave the flood
To reach a rebel, pierce this sacred shroud,
Ting'd in the vital stream of my Redeemer's blood?

The Penitent pardoned.

I

Hence from my soul, my sins, depart,
Your fatal friendship now I see;
Long have you dwelt too near my heart,
Hence, to eternal distance flee.

II

Ye gave my dying Lord his wound,
Yet I caress'd your viperous brood,
And in my heart-strings lapp'd you round,
You, the vile murderers of my God.

III

Black heavy thoughts, like mountains, roll
O'er my poor breast, with boding fears,
And crushing hard my tortured soul,
Wring thro' my eyes the briny tears.

IV

Forgive my treasons, Prince of grace,
The bloody Jews were traitors too,
Yet thou hast pray'd for that curst race,
‘Father, they know not what they do.’

V

Great Advocate, look down and see
A wretch, whose smarting sorrows bleed;
O plead the same excuse for me!
For, Lord, I knew not what I did.

VI

Peace, my complaints; let every groan
Be still, and silence wait his love;
Compassions dwell amidst his throne,
And thro' his inmost bowels move.

428

VII

Lo, from the everlasting skies,
Gently, as morning-dews distil,
The dove immortal downward flies,
With peaceful olive in his bill.

VIII

How sweet the voice of pardon sounds!
Sweet the relief to deep distress!
I feel the balm that heals my wounds,
And all my pow'rs adore the grace.

A Hymn of Praise for Three great Salvations, viz.

1 From the Spanish Invasion, 1588. 2 From the Gun-powder Plot, Nov. 5. 3 From Popery and Slavery by King William of glorious memory, who landed Nov. 5, 1688. Composed, Nov. 5, 1695.

[The First Part.

I

Infinite God, thy counsels stand
Like mountains of eternal brass,
Pillars to prop our sinking land,
Or guardian rocks to break the seas.

II

From pole to pole thy name is known,
Thee a whole heaven of angels praise;
Our labouring tongues would reach thy throne
With the loud triumphs of thy grace.

III

Part of thy church, by thy command
Stands rais'd upon the British isles;
‘There,’ said the Lord, ‘to ages stand,
‘Firm as the everlasting hills.’

IV

In vain the Spanish ocean roar'd;
Its billows swell'd against our shore,
Its billows sunk beneath thy word,
With all the floating war they bore.

V

‘Come,’ said the sons of bloody Rome,
‘Let us provide new arms from hell:’
And down they digg'd thro' earth's dark womb,
And ransack'd all the burning cell.

VI

Old Satan lent them fiery stores,
Infernal coal, and sulphrous flame,
And all that burns, and all that roars,
Outrageous fires of dreadful name.

VII

Beneath the senate and the throne,
Engines of hellish thunder lay;
There the dark seeds of fire were sown,
To spring a bright but dismal day.

VIII

Thy love beheld the black design,
Thy love that guards our island round:
Strange! how it quench'd the fiery mine,
And crush'd the tempest under ground.

The Second Part.

I

Assume, my tongue, a nobler strain,
Sing the new wonders of the Lord;
The foes revive their pow'rs again,
Again they die beneath his sword.

II

Dark as our thoughts our minutes roll,
While tyranny possess'd the throne,
And murderers of an Irish soul
Ran, threat'ning death, thro' every town.

III

The Roman priest, and British prince,
Join'd their best force, and blackest charms,
And the fierce troops of neighbouring France
Offer'd the service of their arms.

IV

‘'Tis done,’ they cry'd, and laugh'd aloud,
The courts of darkness rang with joy,
Th'old serpent hiss'd, and hell grew proud,
While Zion mourn'd her ruin nigh.

V

But lo, the great deliverer sails
Commission'd from Jehovah's hand,
And smiling seas, and wishing gales,
Convey him to the longing land.

VI

The happy day, and happy year,
Both in our new salvation meet:
The day that quench'd the burning snare,
The year that burnt the invading fleet.

VII

Now did thine arm, O God of hosts,
Now did thine arm shine dazzling bright,
The sons of might their hands had lost,
And men of blood forgot to fight.

VIII

Brigades of angels lin'd the way,
And guarded William to his throne;
There, ye celestial warriors, stay,
And make his palace like your own.

IX

Then, mighty God, the earth shall know
And learn the worship of the sky,
Angels and Britons join below,
To raise their Hallelujahs high.

X

All Hallelujah, heavenly King:
While distant lands thy vict'ry sing,
And tongues their utmost pow'rs employ,
The world's bright roof repeats the joy.
 

November 5, 1688.

November 5, 1588.


429

The Incomprehensible.

I.

Far in the heav'ns my God retires,
My God, the mark of my desires,
And hides his lovely face;
When he descends within my view,
He charms my reason to pursue,
But leaves it tir'd and fainting in th'unequal chase.

II.

Or if I reach unusual height
Till near his presence brought,
There floods of glory check my flight,
Cramp the bold pinions of my wit,
And all untune my thought;
Plung'd in a sea of light I roll,
Where wisdom, justice, mercy, shines;
Infinite rays in crossing lines
Beat thick confusion on my sight, and overwhelm my soul.

III.

Come to my aid, ye fellow-minds,
And help me reach the throne;
(What single strength, in vain designs,
United force hath done;
Thus worms may join, and grasp the poles,
Thus atoms fill the sea)
But the whole race of creature-souls
Stretch'd to their last extent of thought, plunge and are lost in thee.

IV.

Great God, behold my reason lies
Adoring; yet my love would rise
On pinions not her own;
Faith shall direct her humble flight,
Thro' all the trackless seas of light,
To Thee, th'eternal Fair, the infinite Unknown.

Death and Eternity.

I

My thoughts, that often mount the skies,
Go, search the world beneath,
Where nature in all ruin lies,
And owns her sovereign, death.

II

The tyrant, how he triumphs here!
His trophies spread around!
And heaps of dust and bones appear
Thro' all the hollow ground.

III

These sculls, what ghastly figures now!
How loathsome to the eyes?
These are the heads we lately knew
So beauteous and so wise.

IV

But where the souls, those deathless things,
That left this dying clay?
My thoughts, now strecth out all your wings,
And trace eternity.

V

O that unfathomable sea!
Those deeps without a shore!
Where living waters gently play,
Or fiery billows roar.

VI

Thus must we leave the banks of life,
And try this doubtful sea;
Vain are our groans, and dying strife,
To gain a moment's stay.

VII

There we shall swim in heav'nly bliss,
Or sink in flaming waves,
While the pale carcase thoughtless lies,
Amongst the silent graves.

VIII

Some hearty friend shall drop his tear
On our dry bones, and say,
‘These once were strong, as mine appear,
‘And mine must be as they.’

IX

Thus shall our mould'ring members teach
What now our senses learn:
For dust and ashes loudest preach
Man's infinite concern.

A Sight of Heaven in Sickness.

I

Oft have I sat in secret sighs,
To feel my flesh decay,
Then groan'd aloud with frighted eyes,
To view the tott'ring clay.

II

But I forbid my sorrows now,
Nor dares the flesh complain;
Diseases bring their profit too;
The joy o'ercomes the pain.

III

My cheerful soul now all the day
Sits waiting here and sings;
Looks thro' the ruins of her clay,
And practises her wings.

IV

Faith almost changes into sight,
While from afar she spies,
Her fair inheritance, in light
Above created skies.

V

Had but the prison walls been strong,
And firm without a flaw,
In darkness she had dwelt too long,
And les of glory saw.

430

VI

But now the everlasting hills
Thro' every chink appear,
And something of the joy she feels,
While she's a pris'ner here.

VII

The shines of heaven rush sweetly in
At all the gaping flaws;
Visions of endless bliss are seen;
And native air she draws.

VIII

O may these walls stand tott'ring still,
The breaches never close,
If I must here in darkness dwell,
And all this glory lose!

IX

Or rather let this flesh decay,
The ruins wider grow,
'Till glad to see th'enlarged way,
I stretch my pinions through.

The universal Hallelujah.

Psalm cxlviii. paraphrased.

I

Praise ye the Lord with joyful tongue,
Ye pow'rs that guard his throne;
Jesus the man shall lead the song,
The God inspire the tune.

II

Gabriel, and all th'immortal choir
That fill the realms above,
Sing; for he form'd you of his fire,
And feeds you with his love.

III

Shine to his praise, ye crystal skies,
The floor of his abode,
Or veil your little twinkling eyes
Before a brighter God.

IV

Thou restless globe of golden light,
Whose beams create our days,
Join with the silver queen of night,
To own your borrow'd rays.

V

Blush and refund the honours paid
To your inferior names:
Tell the blind world, your orbs are fed
By his o'erflowing flames.

VI

Winds, ye shall bear his name aloud
Thro' the ethereal blue,
For when his chariot is a cloud,
He makes his wheels of you.

VII

Thunder and hail, and fires and storms,
The troops of his command,
Appear in all your dreadful forms,
And speak his awful hand.

VIII

Shout to the Lord, ye surging seas,
In your eternal roar;
Let wave to wave resound his praise,
And shore reply to shore:

IX

While monsters sporting on the flood,
In scaly silver shine,
Speak terribly their Maker, God,
And lash the foaming brine.

X

But gentler things shall tune his name,
To softer notes than these,
Young zephyrs breathing o'er the stream,
Or whisp'ring thro' the trees.

XI

Wave your tall heads, ye lofty pines,
To him that bid you grow,
Sweet clusters, bend the fruitful vines
On ev'ry thankful bough.

XII

Let the shrill birds his honour raise,
And climb the morning-sky:
While grov'ling beasts attempt his praise,
In hoarser harmony.

XIII

Thus while the meaner creatures sing,
Ye mortals, take the sound,
Echo the glories of your King
Thro' all the nations round.

XIV

Th'eternal name must fly abroad
From Britain to Japan;
And the whole race shall bow to God
That owns the name of man.

The Atheist's Mistake.

I

Laugh, ye profane, and swell and burst
With bold impiety:
Yet shall ye live for ever curs'd,
And seek in vain to die.

II

The gasp of your expiring breath
Consigns your souls to chains,
By the last agonies of death
Sent down to fiercer pains.

III

Ye stand upon a dreadful steep,
And all beneath is hell;
Your weighty guilt will sink you deep,
Where the old serpent fell.

IV

When iron slumbers bind your flesh,
With strange surprise you'll find
Immortal vigour spring afresh,
And tortures wake the mind!

431

V

Then you'll confess the frightful names
Of plagues you scorn'd before,
No more shall look like idle dreams,
Like foolish tales no more.

VI

Then shall ye curse that fatal day,
(With flames upon your tongues)
When you exchang'd your souls away
For vanity and songs.

VII

Behold the saints rejoice to die,
For heav'n shines round their heads;
And angel-guards prepar'd to fly,
Attend their fainting beds.

VIII

Their longing spirits part, and rise
To their celestial seat;
Above these ruinable skies
They make their last retreat.

IX

Hence, ye prophane, I hate your ways,
I walk with pious souls;
There's a wide difference in our race,
And distant are our goals.

The Law given at Sinai.

I.

Arm thee with thunder, heav'nly muse,
And keep th'expecting world in awe;
Oft hast thou sung in gentler mood
The melting mercies of thy God;
Now give thy fiercest fires a loose,
And sound his dreadful law:
To Israel first the words were spoke,
To Israel freed from Egypt's yoke,
Inhuman bondage! the hard galling load
Over-press'd their feeble souls,
Bent their knees to senseless bulls,
And broke their ties to God.

II.

Now had they pass'd the Arabian bay,
And march'd between the cleaving sea;
The rising waves stood guardians of their wondrous way,
But fell with most impeteous force
On the pursuing swarms,
And bury'd Egypt all in arms.
Blending in wat'ry death the rider and the horse:
O'er struggling Pharoah roll'd the mighty tide,
And sav'd the labours of a pyramid.
Apis and Ore in vain he cries,
And all his horned gods beside,
He swallows fate with swimming eyes,
And curs'd the Hebrews as he dy'd.

III.

Ah! foolish Israel, to comply
With Memphian idolatry!
And bow to brutes, (a stupid slave)
To idols impotent to save!
Behold thy God, the sovereign of the sky,
Has wrought salvation in the deep,
Has bound thy foes in iron sleep,
And rais'd thine honours high;
His grace forgives thy follies past,
Behold he comes in majesty,
And Sinai's top proclaims his law:
Prepare to meet thy God in haste!
But keep an awful distance still:
Let Moses round the sacred hill
The circling limits draw.

IV.

Hark! the shrill echoes of the trumpet roar,
And call the trembling armies near;
Slow and unwilling they appear,
Rails kept them from the mount before,
Now from the rails their fear:
'Twas the same herald, and the trump the same
Which shall be blown by high command,
Shall bid the wheels of nature stand,
And heav'n's eternal will proclaim,
That ‘Time shall be no more.’

V.

Thus while the labouring angel swell'd the sound,
And rent the skies, and shook the ground,
Up rose th'Almighty; round his sapphire seat
Adoring thrones in order fell;
The lesser powers at distance dwell,
And cast their glories down successive at his feet:
Gabriel the great prepares his way,
‘Lift up your heads, eternal doors,’ he cries;
Th'eternal doors his word obey,
Open and shoot celestial day
Upon the lower skies.
Heav'n's mighty pillars bow'd their head,
As their Creator bid,
And down Jehovah rode from the superior sphere,
A thousand guards before, and myriads in the rear.

VI.

His chariot was a pitchy cloud,
The wheels beset with burning gems;
The winds in harness with the flames
Flew o'er th'ethereal road:
Down thro' his magazines he past
Of hail, and ice, and fleecy snow,
Swift roll'd the triumph, and as fast
Did hail, and ice, in melted rivers flow.
The day was mingled with the night,
His feet on solid darkness trod,
His radiant eyes proclaim'd the God,
And scatter'd dreadful light;
He breath'd, and sulphur ran, a fiery stream:
He spoke, and (tho' with unknown speed he came)
Chid the slow tempest, and the lagging flame.

432

VII.

Sinai receiv'd his glorious flight,
With axle red, and glowing wheel,
Did the winged chariot light,
And rising smoke obscur'd the burning hill.
Lo, it mounts in curling waves,
Lo, the gloomy pride out-braves
The stately pyramids of fire
The pyramids to heav'n aspire,
And mix with stars, but see their gloomy offspring higher.
So you have seen ungrateful ivy grow
Round the tall oak that six score years has stood,
And proudly shoot a leaf or two
Above its kind supporter's utmost bough,
And glory there to stand the loftiest of the wood.

VIII.

Forbear, young muse, forbear;
The flow'ry things that poets say,
The little arts of simile
Are vain and useless here;
Nor shall the burning hills of old
With Sinai be compar'd,
Nor all that lying Greece has told,
Or learned Rome has heard;
Ætna shall be nam'd no more,
Ætna, the torch of Sicily;
Not half so high
Her lightnings fly,
Not half so loud her thunders roar
Cross the Sicanian sea, to fright th'Italian shore.
Behold the sacred hill: Its trembling spire
Quakes at the terrors of the fire,
While all below its verdant feet
Stagger and reel under th'almighty weight:
Press'd with a greater than feign'd Atlas' load
Deep groan'd the mount; it never bore
Infinity before,
It bow'd, and shook beneath the burden of a God.

IX.

Fresh horror seize the camp, despair,
And dying groans, torment the air,
And shrieks, and swoons, and deaths were there;
The bellowing thunder, and the lightning's blaze,
Spread thro' the host a wild amaze;
Darkness on every soul, and pale was every face:
Confus'd and dismal were the cries,
‘Let Moses speak, or Israel dies:’
Moses the spreading terror feels,
No more the man of God conceals
His shivering and surprize:
Yet, with recovering mind, commands
Silence, & deep attention, thro' the Hebrew bands.
Hark! from the centre of the flame,
All arm'd and feather'd with the same,
Majestic sounds break thro' the smoky cloud:
Sent from the all-creating tongue
A flight of cherubs guard the words along,
And bear their fiery law to the retreating crowd.

X.

‘I am the Lord: 'Tis I proclaim
‘That glorious and that fearful name,
‘Thy God and King: 'Twas I, that broke
‘Thy bondage, and th'Egyptian yoke;
‘Mine is the right to speak my will,
‘And thine the duty to fulfil.
‘Adore no God beside me, to provoke mine eyes:
‘Nor worship me in shapes and forms that men devise;
‘With rev'rence use my name, nor turn my words to jest;
‘Observe my sabbath well, nor dare profane my rest;
‘Honour, and due obedience, to thy parents give;
‘Nor spill the guiltless blood, nor let the guilty live:
‘Preserve thy body chaste, and flee th'unlawful bed;
‘Nor steal thy neighbour's gold, his garment, or his bread:
‘Forbear to blast his name with falsehood, or deceit;
‘Nor let thy wishes loose upon his large estate.’

Remember your Creator, &c.

Ecclesiastes xii.

I

Children, to your Creator, God,
Your early honours pay,
While vanity and youthful blood
Would tempt your thoughts astray.

II

The memory of his mighty name,
Demands your first regard.
Nor dare indulge a meaner flame,
'Till you have lov'd the Lord.

III

Be wise, and make his favour sure,
Before the mournful days,
When youth and mirth are known no more,
And life and strength decays.

IV

No more the blessings of a feast
Shall relish on the tongue,
The heavy ear forgets the taste
And pleasure of a song.

V

Old age, with all her dismal train,
Invades your golden years
With sighs and groans, and raging pain,
And death, that never spares.

VI

What will you do when light departs,
And leaves your withering eyes,
Without one beam to cheer your hearts,
From the superior skies?

433

VII

How will you meet God's frowning brow,
Or stand before his seat,
While nature's old supporters bow,
Nor bear their tott'ring weight?

VIII

Can you expect your feeble arms
Shall make a strong defence,
When death, with terrible alarms,
Summons the pris'ner hence?

IX

The silver bands of nature burst,
And let the building fall;
The flesh goes down to mix with dust,
Its vile original.

X

Laden with guilt, (a heavy load)
Uncleans'd and unforgiv'n,
The soul returns t'an angry God,
To be shut out from heav'n.

Sun, Moon, and Stars, praise ye the Lord.

I

Fairest of all the lights above,
Thou sun, whose beams adorn the spheres,
And with unweary'd swiftness move,
To form the circles of our years;

II

Praise the Creator of the skies,
That dress'd thine orb in golden rays:
Or may the sun forget to rise,
If he forget his Maker's praise.

III

Thou reigning beauty of the night,
Fair queen of silence, silver moon,
Whose gentle beams and borrow'd light,
Are softer rivals of the noon;

IV

Arise, and to that sov'reign pow'r
Waxing and waning honours pay,
Who bid thee rule the dusky hour,
And half supply the absent day.

V

Ye twinkling stars, who gild the skies
When darkness has its curtains drawn,
Who keep your watch, with wakeful eyes,
When business, cares, and day are gone;

VI

Proclaim the glories of your Lord,
Dispers'd thro' all the heav'nly street,
Whose boundless treasures can afford
So rich a pavement for his feet.

VII

Thou heav'n of heav'ns, supremely bright,
Fair palace of the court divine,
Where, with inimitable light,
The Godhead condescends to shine.

VIII

Praise thou thy great Inhabitant,
Who scatters lovely beams of grace
On ev'ry angel, ev'ry saint,
Nor veils the lustre of his face.

IX

O God of glory, God of love,
Thou art the Sun that makes our days;
With all thy shining works above,
Let earth and dust attempt thy praise.

The Welcome Messenger.

I

Lord, when we see a saint of thine
Lie gasping out his breath,
With longing eyes, and looks divine,
Smiling and pleas'd in death;

II

How we could e'en contend to lay
Our limbs upon that bed!
We ask thine envoy to convey
Our spirits in his stead.

III

Our souls are rising on the wing,
To venture in his place;
For when grim death has lost his sting,
He has an angel's face.

IV

Jesus, then purge my crimes away,
'Tis guilt creates my fears,
'Tis guilt gives death its fierce array,
And all the arms it bears.

V

Oh! if my threat'ning sins were gone,
And death had lost his sting,
I could invite the angel on,
And chide his lazy wing.

VI

Away these interposing days,
And let the lovers meet;
The angel has a cold embrace,
But kind, and soft, and sweet.

VII

I'd leap at once my seventy years,
I'd rush into his arms,
And lose my breath, and all my cares,
Amidst those heav'nly charms.

VIII

Joyful I'd lay this body down,
And leave the lifeless clay,
Without a sigh, without a groan,
And stretch and soar away.

434

Sincere Praise.

I

Almighty Maker, God!
How wondrous is thy name!
Thy glories how diffus'd abroad
Thro' the creation's frame!

II

Nature in every dress
Her humble homage pays,
And finds a thousand ways t'express
Thine undissembled praise.

III

In native white and red
The rose and lily stand,
And free from pride, their beauties spread,
To show thy skilful hand.

IV

The lark mounts up the sky,
With unambitious song,
And bears her Maker's praise on high
Upon her artless tongue.

V

My soul would rise and sing
To her Creator too,
Fain would my tongue adore my King,
And pay the worship due.

VI

But pride, that busy sin,
Spoils all that I perform;
Curs'd pride, that creeps securely in,
And swells a haughty worm.

VII

Thy glories I abate,
Or praise thee with design;
Some of the favours I forget,
Or think the merit mine.

VIII

The very songs I frame,
Are faithless to thy cause,
And steal the honours of thy name
To build their own applause.

IX

Create my soul anew,
Else all my worship's vain;
This wretched heart will ne'er be true,
Until 'tis form'd again.

X

Descend, celestial fire,
And seize me from above,
Melt me in flames of pure desire,
A sacrifice to love.

XI

Let joy and worship spend
The remnant of my days,
And to my God, my soul ascend,
In sweet perfumes of praise.

True Learning.

Partly imitated from a French Sonnet of Mr. Poiret.

I

Happy the feet that shining truth has led
With her own hand to tread the path she please,
To see her native lustre round her spread,
Without a veil, without a shade,
All beauty, and all light, as in herself she is.

II

Our senses cheat us with the pressing crouds
Of painted shapes they thrust upon the mind:
The truth they show lies wrapp'd in sev'nfold shrouds,
Our senses cast a thousand clouds
On unenlighten'd souls, and leave them doubly blind.

III

I hate the dust that fierce disputers raise,
And lose the mind in a wild maze of thought:
What empty triflings, and what subtle ways
To fence and guard by rule and rote!
Our God will never charge us, that we knew them not.

IV

Touch, heav'nly Word, O touch these curious souls;
Since I have heard but one soft hint from thee,
From all the vain opinions of the schools
(That pageantry of knowing fools)
I feel my powers releas'd, and stand divinely free.

V

'Twas this Almighty Word that all things made,
He grasps whole nature in his single hand;
All the eternal truths in him are laid,
The ground of all things, and their head,
The circle where they move, and centre where they stand.

VI

Without his aid I have no sure defence,
From troops of errors that besiege me round;
But he that rests his reason and his sense
Fast here, and never wanders hence,
Unmoveable he dwells upon unshaken ground.

VII

Infinite truth, the life of my desires,
Come from the sky, and join thyself to me;
I'm tir'd with hearing, and this reading tires;
But never tir'd of telling thee,
'Tis thy fair face alone my spirit burns to see.

VIII

Speak to my soul, alone, no other hand
Shall mark my path out with delusive art;
All nature silent in his presence stand,
Creatures be dumb at his command,
And leave his single voice to whisper to my heart.

435

IX

Retire, my soul, within thyself retire,
Away from every sense and every outward show:
Now let my thoughts to loftier themes aspire,
My knowledge now on wheels of fire
May mount and spread above, surveying all below.

X

The Lord grows lavish of his heav'nly light,
And pours whole floods on such a mind as this:
Fled from the eyes she gains a piercing sight,
She dives into the infinite,
And sees unutterable things in that unknown abyss.

True Wisdom.

I

Pronounce him blest, my muse, whom wisdom guides
In her own path to her own heav'nly seat;
Thro' all the storms his soul securely glides,
Nor can the tempests, nor the tides,
That rise and roar around, supplant his steady feet.

II

Earth, you may let your golden arrows fly,
And seek, in vain, a passage to his breast,
Spread all your painted toys to court his eye,
He smiles, and sees them vainly try
To lure his soul aside from her eternal rest.

III

Our headstrong lusts, like a young fiery horse,
Start, and flee raging in a violent course;
He tames and breaks them, manages and rides 'em,
Checks their career, and turns and guides 'em,
And bids his reason bridle their licentious force.

IV

Lord of himself, he rules his wildest thoughts,
And boldly acts what calmly he design'd,
Whilst he looks down and pities human faults;
Nor can he think, nor can he find
A plague like reigning passions, and a subject mind.

V

But oh! 'tis mighty toil to reach this height,
To vanquish self is a laborious art;
What manly courage to sustain the fight,
To bear the noble pain, and part
With those dear charming tempters rooted in the heart!

VI

'Tis hard to stand when all the passions move,
Hard to awake the eye that passion blinds
To rend and tear out this unhappy love,
That clings so close about our minds,
And where th'enchanted soul so sweet a poison finds.

VII

Hard; but it may be done. Come heav'nly fire,
Come to my breast, and with one powerful ray
Melt off my lusts, my fetters: I can bear
Awhile to be a tenant here,
But not be chain'd and prison'd in a cage of clay.

VIII

Heav'n is my home and I must use my wings;
Sublime above the globe my flight aspires:
I have a soul was made to pity kings,
And all their little glitt'ring things;
I have a soul was made for infinite desires.

IX

Loos'd from the earth, my heart is upward flown;
Farewell, my friends, and all that once was mine:
Now, should you fix my feet on Cæsar's throne,
Crown me, and call the world my own,
The gold that binds my brows could ne'er my soul confine.

X

I am the Lord's, and Jesus is my love;
He, the dear God, shall fill my vast desire.
My flesh below; yet I can dwell above,
And nearer to my Saviour move;
There all my soul shall centre, all my pow'rs conspire.

XI

Thus I with angels live; thus half-divine
I sit on high, nor mind inferior joys:
Fill'd with his love, I feel that God is mine,
His glory is my great design,
That everlasting project all my thoughts employs.

A Song to creating Wisdom.

PART I.

I

Eternal Wisdom, thee we praise,
Thee the creation sings:
With thy loud name, rocks, hills, and seas,
And heav'n's high palace rings.

II

Place me on the bright wings of day
To travel with the sun;
With what amaze shall I survey
The wonders thou hast done?

III

Thy hand how wide it spread the sky!
How glorious to behold?
Ting'd with a blue of heav'nly dye,
And starr'd with sparkling gold.

IV

There thou hast bid the globes of light
Their endless circles run;
There the pale planet rules the night,
And day obeys the sun.

PART II.

V

Downward I turn my wondering eyes
On clouds and storms below,
Those under-regions of the skies
Thy num'rous glories show.

436

VI

The noisy winds stand ready there
Thy orders to obey,
With sounding wings they sweep the air,
To make thy chariot way.

VII

There, like a trumpet, loud and strong,
Thy thunder shakes our coast:
While the red lightnings wave along,
The banners of thine host.

VIII

On the thin air, without a prop,
Hang fruitful show'rs around:
At thy command they sink, and drop
Their fatness on the ground.

PART III.

IX

Now to the earth I bend my song,
And cast my eyes abroad,
Glancing the British isles along;
Blest isles, confess your God.

X

How did his wondrous skill array
Your fields in charming green;
A thousand herbs his art display,
A thousand flowers between!

XI

Tall oaks for future navies grow,
Fair Albion's best defence,
While corn and vines rejoice below,
Those luxuries of sense.

XII

The bleating flocks his pasture feeds:
And herds of larger size,
That bellow thro' the Lindian meads,
His bounteous hand supplies.

PART IV.

XIII

We see the Thames caress the shores,
He guides her silver flood:
While angry Severn swells and roars,
Yet hears her ruler God.

XIV

The rolling mountains of the deep
Observe his strong command;
His breath can raise the billows steep,
Or sink them to the sand.

XV

Amidst thy wat'ry kingdoms, Lord,
The finny nations play,
And scaly monsters, at thy word,
Rush thro' the northern sea.

PART V.

XVI

Thy glories blaze all nature round,
And strike the gazing sight,
Thro' skies, and seas, and solid ground,
With terror and delight.

XVII

Infinite strength, and equal skill,
Shine thro' the worlds abroad,
Our souls with vast amazement fill,
And speak the builder God.

XVIII

But the sweet beauties of thy grace
Our softer passions move;
Pity divine in Jesus' face
We see, adore, and love.

God's absolute Dominion.

I.

Lord, when my thoughtful soul surveys
Fire, air and earth, and stars and seas,
I call them all thy slaves;
Commission'd by my Father's will,
Poisons shall cure, or balms shall kill;
Vernal suns, or zephyr's breath,
May burn or blast the plants to death
That sharp December saves;
What can winds or planets boast
But a precarious pow'r?
The sun is all in darkness lost,
Frost shall be fire, and fire be frost,
When he appoints the hour.

II.

Lo, the Norwegians near the polar sky
Chafe their frozen limbs with snow;
Their frozen limbs awake and glow,
The vital flame touch'd with a strange supply
Rekindles, for the God of life is nigh;
He bids the vital flood in wonted circles flow.
Cold steel expos'd to northern air,
Drinks the meridian fury of the midnight Bear,
And burns th'unwary stranger there.

III.

Enquire, my soul, of ancient fame,
Look back to thousand years, and see
Th'Assyrian prince transform'd a brute,
For boasting to be absolute:
Once to his court the God of Israel came,
A King more absolute than he.
I see the furnace blaze with rage
Sevenfold: I see amidst the flame
Three Hebrews of immortal name;
They move, they walk across the burning stage
Unhurt, and fearless, while the tyrant stood
A statue; fear congeal'd his blood:

437

Nor did the raging element dare
Attempt their garments, or their hair;
It knew the Lord of nature there.
Nature, compell'd by a superior cause,
Now breaks her own eternal laws,
Now seems to break them, and obeys
Her sov'reign King in different ways.
Father, how bright thy glories shine!
How broad thy kingdom, how divine!
Nature, and miracle, and fate, and chance are thine.

IV.

Hence from my heart, ye idols, flee,
Ye sounding names of vanity!
No more my lips shall sacrifice
To chance and nature, tales and lies:
Creatures without a God can yield me no supplies.
What is the sun, or what the shade,
Or frosts, or flames, to kill or save?
His favour is my life, his lips pronounce me dead:
And as his awful dictates bid,
Earth is my mother, or my grave.

Condescending Grace.

In Imitation of the 114th Psalm.

I

When the Eternal bows the skies,
To visit earthly things,
With scorn divine he turns his eyes
From towers of haughty kings;

II

Rides on a cloud disdainful by
A sultan, or a czar,
Laughs at the worms that rise so high,
Or frowns 'm from afar;

III

He bids his awful chariot roll
Far downward from the skies,
To visit ev'ry humble soul,
With pleasure in his eyes.

IV

Why should the Lord that reigns above
Disdain so lofty kings?
Say, Lord, and why such looks of love
Upon such worthless things?

V

Mortals, be dumb; what creature dares
Dispute his awful will;
Ask no account of his affairs,
But tremble, and be still.

VI

Just like his nature is his grace,
All sov'reign, and all free;
Great God, how searchless are thy ways!
How deep thy judgments be!

The Infinite.

I

Some seraph, lend your heav'nly tongue,
Or harp of golden string,
That I may raise a lofty song
To our eternal King.

II

Thy names, how infinite they be!
Great Everlasting One!
Boundless thy might and majesty,
And unconfin'd thy throne.

III

Thy glories shine of wondrous size,
And wondrous large thy grace;
Immortal day breaks from thine eyes,
And Gabriel veils his face.

IV

Thine essence is a vast abyss,
Which angels cannot sound,
An ocean of infinities
Where all our thoughts are drown'd.

V

The mysteries of creation lie
Beneath enlighten'd minds,
Thoughts can ascend above the sky,
And fly before the winds.

VI

Reason may grasp the massy hills
And stretch from pole to pole,
But half thy name our spirit fills,
And overloads our soul.

VII

In vain our haughty reason swells,
For nothing's found in Thee
But boundless inconceivables,
And vast eternity.

Confession and Pardon.

I

Alas, my aching heart!
Here the keen torment lies;
It racks my waking hours with smart,
And frights my slumbering eyes.

II

Guilt will be hid no more,
My griefs take vent apace,
The crimes that blot my conscience o'er
Flush crimson in my face.

III

My sorrows, like a flood,
Impatient of restraint,
Into thy bosom, O my God,
Pour out a long complaint.

IV

This impious heart of mine
Could once defy the Lord,
Could rush with violence on to sin
In presence of thy sword.

438

V

How often have I stood
A rebel to the skies,
The calls, the tenders of a God,
And mercy's loudest cries!

VI

He offers all his grace,
And all his heav'n to me;
Offers! but 'tis to senseless brass,
That cannot feel nor see.

VII

Jesus the Saviour stands
To court me from above,
And looks and spreads his wounded hands,
And shews the prints of love.

VIII

But I, a stupid fool,
How long have I withstood
The blessings purchas'd with his soul,
And paid for all in blood?

IX

The heav'nly Dove came down
And tender'd me his wings
To mount me upward to a crown,
And bright immortal things.

X

Lord, I'm asham'd to say
That I refus'd thy Dove,
And sent thy Spirit griev'd away,
To his own realms of love.

XI

Not all thine heav'nly charms,
Nor terrors of thy hand,
Could force me to lay down my arms,
And bow to thy command.

XII

Lord, 'tis against thy face
My sins like arrows rise,
And yet, and yet, O matchless grace!
Thy thunder silent lies.

XIII

O shall I never feel
The meltings of thy love?
Am I of such hell-harden'd steel
That mercy cannot move?

XIV

Now for one powerful glance,
Dear Saviour, from thy face!
This rebel heart no more withstands,
But sinks beneath thy grace.

XV

O'ercome by dying love I fall,
Here at thy cross I lie;
And throw my flesh, my soul, my all,
And weep, and love, and die.

XVI

‘Rise,’ says the Prince of mercy, ‘rise,
‘With joy and pity in his eyes:
‘Rise, and behold my wounded veins,
‘Here flows the blood to wash thy stains.

XVII

‘See my great Father reconcil'd:’
He said. And lo, the Father smil'd;
The joyful cherubs clapp'd their wings,
And sounded grace on all their strings.

Young Men and Maidens, old Men and Babes, praise ye the Lord, Psalm cxlviii. 12.

I.

Sons of Adam, bold and young,
In the wild mazes of whose veins
A flood of fiery vigour reigns,
And weilds your active limbs, with hardy sinews strung;
Fall prostrate at th'eternal throne
Whence your precarious pow'rs depend;
Nor swell as if your lives were all your own,
But choose your Maker for your friend;
His favour is your life, his arm is your support,
His hand can stretch your days, or cut your minutes short.

II.

Virgins, who roll your artful eyes,
And shoot delicious danger thence:
Swift the lovely lightning flies,
And melts our reason down to sense;
Boast not of those with'ring charms
That must yield their youthful grace
To age and wrinkles, earth and worms;
But love the Author of your smiling face;
That heav'nly Bridegroom claims your blooming hours;
O make it your perpetual care
To please that everlasting Fair;
His beauties are the sun, and but the shade is yours.

III.

Infants, whose different destinies
Are wove with threads of different size;
But from the same spring-tide of tears,
Commence your hopes, and joys, and fears,
(A tedious train!) and date your following years:
Break your first silence in his praise
Who wrought your wondrous frame:
With sounds of tenderest accent raise
Young honours to his name;
And consecrate your early days
To know the pow'r supreme:

IV.

Ye heads of venerable age
Just marching off the mortal stage,
Fathers, whose vital threads are spun
As long as e'er the glass of life would run,
Adore the hand that led your way
Thro' flow'ry fields a fair long summer's day;
Gasp out your soul in praises to the sovereign pow'r
That set your west so distant from your dawning hour.

439

Flying Fowl, and creeping Things, praise ye the Lord.

Psalm cxlviii. 10.

I.

Sweet flocks, whose soft enamel'd wing
Swift and gently cleaves the sky;
Whose charming notes address the spring
With an artless harmony.
Lovely minstrels of the field,
Who in leafy shadows sit,
And your wondrous structures build,
Awake your tuneful voices with the dawning light;
To nature's God your first devotions pay,
E'er you salute the rising day,
'Tis he calls up the sun, and gives him every ray.

II.

Serpents, who o'er the meadows slide,
And wear upon your shining back
Num'rous ranks of gaudy pride,
Which thousand mingling colours make:
Let the fierce glances of your eyes
Rebate their baleful fire;
In harmless play twist and unfold
The volumes of your scaly gold:
That rich embroidery of your gay attire,
Proclaims your Maker kind and wise.

III.

Insects and mites, of mean degree,
That swarm in myriads o'er the land,
Moulded by wisdom's artful hand,
And curl'd and painted with a various die;
In your innumerable forms
Praise him that wears th'ethereal crown,
And bends his lofty counsels down
To despicable worms.

The Comparison and Complaint.

I

Infinite power, eternal Lord,
How sov'reign is thy hand!
All nature rose t'obey thy word,
And moves at thy command.

II

With steady course thy shining sun
Keeps his appointed way,
And all the hours obedient run
The circle of the day.

III

But ah! how wide my spirit flies,
And wanders from her God!
My soul forgets the heavenly prize,
And treads the downward road.

IV

The raging fire, and stormy sea,
Perform thine awful will;
And ev'ry beast and ev'ry tree,
Thy great designs fulfil:

V

While my wild passions rage within,
Nor thy commands obey;
And flesh and sense, inslav'd to sin,
Draw my best thoughts away.

VI

Shall creatures of a meaner frame
Pay all their dues to thee;
Creatures, that never knew thy name,
That never lov'd like me?

VII

Great God, create my soul anew,
Conform my heart to thine,
Melt down my will, and let it flow,
And take the mould divine.

VIII

Seize my whole frame into thy hand:
Here all my pow'rs I bring;
Manage the wheels by thy command,
And govern ev'ry spring.

IX

Then shall my feet no more depart,
Nor wandering senses rove;
Devotion shall be all my heart,
And all my passions love.

X

Then not the sun shall more than I
His Maker's law perform,
Nor travel swifter thro' the sky,
Nor with a zeal so warm.

God Supreme, and Self-sufficient.

I

What is our God, or what his name
Nor men can learn, nor angels teach;
He dwells conceal'd in radiant flame,
Where neither eyes nor thoughts can reach.

II

The spacious worlds of heavenly light,
Compar'd with him, how short they fall?
They are too dark, and he too bright.
Nothing are they, and God is all.

III

He spoke the wondrous word, and lo
Creation rose at his command;
Whirlwinds and seas their limits know,
Bound in the hollow of his hand.

IV

There rests the earth, there roll the spheres,
There nature leans, and feels her prop:
But his own self-sufficience bears
The weight of his own glories up.

V

The tide of creatures ebbs and flows,
Measuring their changes by the moon:
No ebb his sea of glory knows;
His age is one eternal noon.

440

VI

Then fly, my song, an endless round,
The lofty tune let Michael raise;
All nature dwell upon the sound,
But we can ne'er fulfil the praise.

Jesus the only Saviour.

I

Adam, our father and our head,
Transgrest; and justice doom'd us dead:
The fiery law speaks all despair,
There's no reprieve, nor pardon there.

II

Call a bright council in the skies;
‘Seraphs the mighty and the wise,
‘Say, what expedient can you give,
‘That sin be damn'd, and sinners live?

III

‘Speak, are you strong to bear the load,
‘The weighty vengeance of a God?
‘Which of you loves our wretched race,
‘Or dares to venture in our place?’

IV

In vain we ask; for all around
Stands silence thro' the heavenly ground:
There's not a glorious mind above
Has half the strength, or half the love.

V

But, O unutterable grace!
Th'eternal Son takes Adam's place;
Down to our world the Saviour flies,
Stretches his naked arms, and dies.

VI

Justice was pleas'd to bruise the God,
And pay its wrongs with heav'nly blood;
What unknown racks and pangs he bore!
Then rose: The law could ask no more.

VII

Amazing work! look down, ye skies,
Wonder and gaze with all your eyes;
Ye heav'nly thrones, stoop from above,
And bow to this mysterious love.

VIII

See, how they bend! See, how they look!
Long they had read th'eternal book,
And studied dark degrees in vain,
The cross and Calvary makes them plain.

IX

Now they are struck with deep amaze,
Each with his wings conceals his face;
Nor clap their sounding plumes, and cry,
‘The wisdom of a Deity!’

X

Low they adore th'incarnate Son,
And sing the glories he hath won;
Sing how he broke our iron chains,
How deep he sunk, how high he reigns.

XI

Triumph and reign, victorious Lord,
By all thy flaming hosts ador'd;
And say, dear conqueror, say, how long
Ere we shall rise to join their song.

XII

Lo, from afar the promis'd day
Shines with a well-distinguish'd ray;
But my wing'd passion hardly bears
These lengths of slow delaying years.

XIII

Send down a chariot from above,
With fiery wheels, and pav'd with love;
Raise me beyond th'ethereal blue,
To sing and love as angels do.

Looking upward.

I

The heavens invite mine eye,
The stars salute me round;
Father, I blush, I mourn to lie
Thus grov'ling on the ground.

II

My warmer spirits move,
And make attempts to fly;
I wish aloud for wings of love
To raise me swift and high.

III

Beyond those crystal vaults,
And all their sparkling balls;
They're but the porches to thy courts,
And paintings on thy walls.

IV

Vain world, farewell to you;
Heav'n is my native air:
I bid my friends a short adieu,
Impatient to be there.

V

I feel my powers releast
From their old fleshy clod;
Fair Guardian, bear me up in haste
And set me near my God.

Christ dying, rising and reigning.

I

He dies! the heav'nly Lover dies!
The tidings strike a doleful sound
On my poor heart-strings. Deep he lies
In the cold caverns of the ground.

II

Come, saints, and drop a tear or two,
On the dear bosom of your God,
He shed a thousand drops for you,
A thousand drops of richer blood.

III

Here's love and grief beyond degree,
The Lord of glory dies for men!
But lo, what sudden joys I see!
Jesus the dead revives again.

441

IV

The rising God forsakes the tomb,
Up to his Father's court he flies;
Cherubic legions guard him home,
And shout him welcome to the skies.

V

Break off your tears, ye saints, and tell
How high our great Deliverer reigns;
Sing how he spoil'd the hosts of hell,
And led the monster death in chains.

VI

Say, ‘Live for ever, wondrous King!
‘Born to redeem, and strong to save!’
Then ask the monster, ‘Where's his sting?
‘And where's thy victory, boasting grave?’

The God of Thunder.

I

O the immense, the amazing height,
The boundless grandeur of our God,
Who treads the worlds beneath his feet,
And sways the nations with his nod!

II

He speaks; and lo, all nature shakes,
Heav'n's everlasting pillars bow;
He rends the clouds with hideous cracks,
And shoots his fiery arrows through.

III

Well, let the nations start and fly
At the blue lightning's horrid glare,
Atheists and emperors shrink and die,
When flame and noise torment the air.

IV

Let noise and flame confound the skies,
And drown the spacious realms below,
Yet will we sing the thunderer's praise,
And send our loud hosannas through.

V

Celestial King, thy blazing power
Kindles our hearts to flaming joys,
We shout to hear thy thunders roar,
And echo to our Father's voice.

VI

Thus shall the God our Saviour come,
And lightnings round his chariot play;
Ye lightnings, fly to make him room;
Ye glorious storms, prepare his way.

The Day of Judgment, AN ODE, Attempted in English Sapphic.

I

When the fierce north wind with his airy forces
Rears up the Baltic to a foaming fury;
And the red lightning, with a storm of hail comes
Rushing amain down,

II

How the poor sailors stand amaz'd and tremble!
While the hoarse thunder, like a bloody trumpet,
Roars a loud onset to the gaping waters
Quick to devour them.

III

Such shall the noise be, and the wild disorder,
(If things eternal may be like these earthly)
Such the dire terror when the great Archangel
Shakes the creation;

IV

Tears the strong pillars of the vault of heaven,
Breaks up old marble, the repose of princes;
See the graves open, and the bones arising,
Flames all around 'em!

V

Hark, the shrill outcries of the guilty wretches!
Lively bright horror, and amazing anguish,
Stare thro' their eye-lids, while the living worm lies
Gnawing within them.

VI

Thoughts, like old vultures, prey upon their heart-strings,
And the smart twinges, when the eye beholds the
Lofty Judge frowning, and a flood of vengeance
Rolling afore him.

VII

Hopeless immortals! how they scream and shiver
While devils push them to the pit wide-yawning
Hideous and gloomy to receive them headlong
Down to the centre.

VIII

Stop here, my fancy: (All away, ye horrid
Doleful ideas,) come, arise to Jesus,
How he sits God-like! and the saints around him
Thron'd, yet adoring!

IX

O may I sit there when he comes triumphant,
Dooming the nations! then ascend to glory,
While our hosannas all along the passage
Shout the Redeemer.

The Song of Angels above.

I

Earth has detain'd me prisoner long,
And I'm grown weary now:
My heart, my hand, my ear, my tongue,
There's nothing here for you.

II

Tir'd in my thoughts I stretch me down,
And upward glance mine eyes.
Upward, my Father, to thy throne,
And to my native skies.

III

There the dear Man, my Saviour sits,
The God, how bright he shines!
And scatters infinite delights
On all the happy minds.

442

IV

Seraphs with elevated strains
Circle the throne around,
And move and charm the starry plains
With an immoral sound.

V

Jesus the Lord their harps employs,
Jesus my love they sing,
Jesus the name of both our joys
Sounds sweet from ev'ry string.

VI

Hark, how beyond the narrow bounds
Of time and space they run,
And speak in most majestic sounds,
The Godhead of the Son.

VII

How on the Father's breast he lay,
The darling of his soul.
Infinite years before the day
Or heavens began to roll.

VIII

And now they sink the lofty tone,
And gentler notes they play,
And bring th'eternal Godhead down
To dwell in humble clay.

IX

O sacred beauties of the Man!
(The God resides within)
His flesh all pure, without a stain,
His soul without a sin.

X

Then, how he look'd, and how he smil'd,
What wondrous things he said!
Sweet cherubs, stay, dwell here a while,
And tell what Jesus did.

XI

At his command the blind awake,
And feel the gladsome rays;
He bids the dumb attempt to speak,
They try their tongues in praise.

XII

He shed a thousand blessings round
Where'er he turn'd his eye;
He spoke, and at the sov'reign sound
The hellish legions fly.

XIII

Thus while with unambitious strife
Th'ethereal minstrels rove
Thro' all the labours of his life,
And wonders of his love.

XIV

In the full choir a broken string
Groans with a strange surprize;
The rest in silence mourn their King,
That bleeds, and loves, and dies.

XV

Seraph and saint, with drooping wings,
Cease their harmonious breath;
No blooming trees, nor bubbling springs,
While Jesus sleeps in death.

XVI

Then all at once to living strains
They summon every chord,
Break up the tomb, and burst his chains,
And show their rising Lord.

XVII

Around the flaming army throngs
To guard him to the skies,
With loud hosannas on their tongues,
And triumph in their eyes.

XVIII

In awful state the conqu'ring God
Ascends his shining throne,
While tuneful angels sound abroad
The vict'ries he has won.

XIX

Now let me rise, and join their song,
And be an angel too;
My heart, my hand, my ear, my tongue,
Here's joyful work for you.

XX

I would begin the music here,
And so my soul should rise:
Oh for some heavenly notes to bear
My spirit to the skies!

XXI

There, ye that love my Saviour, sit,
There I would fain have place,
Amongst your thrones, or at your feet,
So I might see his face.

XXII

I am confin'd to earth no more,
But mount in haste above,
To bless the God that I adore,
And sing the Man I love.

Fire, Air, Earth, and Sea, praise ye the Lord.

I.

Earth, thou great footstool of our God
Who reigns on high; thou fruitful source
Of all our raiment, life and food;
Our house, our parent and our nurse;
Mighty stage of mortal scenes,
Drest with strong and gay machines,
Hung with golden lamps around:
(And flow'ry carpets spread the ground)
Thou bulky globe, prodigious mass,
That hangs unpillar'd in an empty space!
While thy unweildy weight rests on the feeble air,
Bless that Almighty Word that fix'd and holds thee there.

II.

Fire, thou swift herald of his face,
Whose glorious rage, at his command,
Levels a palace with the sand,
Blending the lofty spires in ruin with the base:

443

Ye heav'nly flames, that singe the air,
Artillery of a jealous God,
Bright arrows that his sounding quivers bear
To scatter deaths abroad;
Lightnings, adore the sov'reign arm that flings
His vengeance, and your fires, upon the heads of kings.

III.

Thou vital element, the air,
Whose boundless magazines of breath
Our fainting flame of life repair,
And save the bubble man from the cold arms of death:
And ye, whose vital moisture yields
Life's purple stream a fresh supply;
Sweet waters, wand'ring thro' the flow'ry fields,
Or dropping from the sky;
Confess the Pow'r whose all-sufficient name
Nor needs your aid to build, or to support our frame.

IV.

Now the rude air, with noisy force,
Beats up and swells the angry sea,
They join to make our lives a prey,
And sweep the sailor's hopes away.
Vain hopes, to reach their kindred on the shores!
Lo, the wild seas and surging waves
Gape hideous in a thousand graves:
Be still, ye floods, and know your bounds of sand,
Ye storms, adore your Master's hand;
The winds are in his fist, the waves at his command.

V.

From the eternal emptiness
His fruitful word by secret springs
Drew the whole harmony of things
That form this noble universe:
Old nothing knew his pow'rful hand,
Scarce had he spoke his full command,
Fire, air, and earth, and sea, heard the creating call,
And leap'd from empty nothing to this beauteous all;
And still they dance, and still obey
The orders they receiv'd the great creation-day.

The Farewell.

I

Dead be my heart to all below,
To mortal joys and mortal cares;
To sensual bliss that charms us so
Be dark, my eyes, and deaf my ears.

II

Here I renounce my carnate taste
Of the fair fruit that sinners prize:
Their paradise shall never waste
One thought of mine, but to despise.

III

All earthly joys are overweigh'd
With mountains of vexatious care;
And where's the sweet that is not laid
A bait to some destructive snare?

IV

Be gone for ever, mortal things!
Thou mighty mole-hill, earth, farewell!
Angels aspire on lofty wings,
And leave the globe for ants to dwell.

V

Come heav'n, and fill my vast desires,
My soul pursues the sov'reign good:
She was all made of heavenly fires,
Nor can she live on meaner food.

God only known to Himself.

I

Stand and adore! how glorious he
That dwells in bright eternity!
We gaze, and we confound our sight
Plung'd in th'abyss of dazzling light.

II

Thus sacred One, Almighty Three,
Great Everlasting Mystery,
What lofty numbers shall we frame
Equal to thy tremendous name?

III

Seraphs, the nearest to the throne,
Begin, and speak the Great Unknown:
Attempt the song, wind up your strings,
To notes untry'd, and boundless things.

IV

You, whose capacious pow'rs survey
Largely beyond our eyes of clay:
Yet what a narrow portion too
Is seen, or known, or thought by you?

V

How flat your highest praises fall
Below the immense Original!
Weak creatures we, that strive in vain
To reach an uncreated strain!

VI

Great God, forgive our feeble lays,
Sound out thine own eternal praise;
A song so vast, a theme so high,
Calls for the voice that tun'd the sky.

Pardon and Sanctification.

I

My crimes awake; and hideous fear
Distracts my restless mind,
Guilt meets my eyes with horrid glare,
And hell pursues behind.

II

Almighty vengeance frowns on high,
And flames array the throne;
While thunder murmurs round the sky,
Impatient to be gone.

444

III

Where shall I hide this noxious head;
Can rocks or mountains save?
Or shall I wrap me in the shade
Of midnight and the grave?

IV

Is there no shelter from the eye
Of a revenging God?
Jesus, to thy dear wounds I fly,
Bedew me with thy blood.

V

Those guardian drops my soul secure,
And wash away my sin;
Eternal justice frowns no more,
And conscience smiles within.

VI

I bless that wondrous purple stream
That whitens every stain;
Yet is my soul but half redeem'd,
If sin the tyrant reign.

VII

Lord, blast his empire with thy breath,
That cursed throne must fall;
Ye flatt'ring plagues, that work my death,
Fly, for I hate you all.

Sovereignty and Grace.

I

The Lord! how fearful is his name?
How wide is his command?
Nature, with all her moving frame,
Rests on his mighty hand.

II

Immortal glory forms his throne,
And light his awful robe;
Whilst with a smile, or with a frown,
He manages the globe.

III

A word of his almighty breath
Can swell or sink the seas;
Build the vast empires of the earth,
Or break them as he please.

IV

Adoring angels round him fall
In all their shining forms,
His sov'reign eye looks thro' them all,
And pities mortal worms.

V

His bowels, to our worthless race,
In sweet compassion move;
He clothes his looks with softest grace,
And takes his title, love.

VI

Now let the Lord for ever reign,
And sway us as he will,
Sick, or in health, in ease, or pain,
We are his favourites still.

VII

No more shall peevish passion rise,
The tongue no more complain;
'Tis sov'reign love that lends our joys,
And love resumes again.

The Law and Gospel.

I

Curst be the man, for ever curst,
‘That doth one wilful sin commit;
‘Death and damnation for the first,
‘Without relief and infinite.’

II

Thus Sinai roars; and round the earth
Thunder, and fire, and vengeance flings;
But Jesus, thy dear gasping breath,
And Calvary, say gentler things.

III

‘Pardon, and grace, and boundless love,
‘Streaming along a Saviour's blood,
‘And life, and joys, and crowns above,
‘Dear purchas'd by a bleeding God.’

IV

Hark, how he prays, (the charming sound
Dwells on his dying lips) Forgive;
And every groan, and gaping wound,
Cries, ‘Father, let the rebels live.’

V

Go, you that rest upon the law,
And toil, and seek salvation there,
Look to the flames that Moses saw,
And shrink, and tremble, and despair.

VI

But I'll retire beneath the cross,
Saviour, at thy dear feet I lie;
And the keen sword that justice draws,
Flaming and red, shall pass me by.

Seeking a divine Calm in a restless World.

O Mens, quæ stabili fata regis vice, &c. Casimire, book iii. od 28.

I

Eternal mind, who rul'st the fates
Of dying realms, and rising states,
With one unchang'd decree,
While we admire thy vast affairs,
Say, can our little trifling cares,
Afford a smile to thee?

II

Thou scatterest honours, crowns and gold;
We fly to seize, and fight to hold
The bubbles and the ore:
So emmets struggle for a grain;
So boys their petty wars maintain
For shells upon the shore.

445

III

Here a vain man his sceptre breaks,
The next a broken sceptre takes,
And warriors win and lose;
This rolling world will never stand,
Plunder'd and snatch'd from hand to hand,
As power decays or grows.

IV

Earth's but an atom: Greedy swords
Carve it amongst a thousand lords,
And yet they can't agree:
Let greedy swords still fight and slay,
I can be poor; but, Lord, I pray
To sit and smile with thee.

Happy Frailty.

I

How meanly dwells th'immortal mind!
‘How vile these bodies are!
‘Why was a clod of earth design'd
‘T'inclose a heav'nly star?

II

‘Weak cottage where our souls reside!
‘This flesh a tott'ring wall;
‘With frightful breaches gaping wide
‘The building bends to fall.

III

‘All round it storms of trouble blow,
‘And waves of sorrow roll;
‘Cold waves and winter's storms beat through,
‘And pain the tenant soul.

IV

‘Alas! how frail our state!’ said I;
And thus went mourning on,
Till sudden from the cleaving sky
A gleam of glory shone.

V

My soul all felt the glory come,
And breath'd her native air;
Then she remember'd heav'n her home,
And she a pris'ner here.

VI

Straight she began to change her key,
And joyful in her pains,
She sung the frailty of her clay
In pleasurable strains.

VII

‘How weak the pris'n is where I dwell!
‘Flesh but a tott'ring wall
‘The breaches cheerfully foretel,
‘The house must shortly fall.

VIII

‘No more, my friends, shall I complain,
‘Tho' all my heart-strings ache;
‘Welcome disease, and ev'ry pain,
‘That makes the cottage shake.

IX

‘Now let the tempest blow all round,
‘Now swell the surges high,
‘And beat this house of bondage down,
‘To let the stranger fly.

X

‘I have a mansion built above
‘By the eternal hand;
‘And should the earth's old basis move,
‘My heav'nly house must stand.

XI

‘Yes, for 'tis there my Saviour reigns,
‘(I long to see the God)
‘And his immortal strength sustains
‘The courts that cost him blood.’

XII

Hark, from on high my Saviour calls:
‘I come, my Lord, my love:’
Devotion breaks the prison walls,
And speeds my last remove.

Launching into Eternity.

It was a brave attempt! adventurous he,
Who in the first ship broke the unknown sea,
And leaving his dear native shores behind,
Trusted his life to the licentious wind.
I see the surging brine: the tempest raves:
He on a pine-plank rides across the waves
Exulting on the edge of thousand gaping graves:
He steers the winged boat, and shifts the sails,
Conquers the flood, and manages the gales.
Such is the soul that leaves this mortal land
Fearless when the great Master gives command.
Death is the storm: She smiles to hear it roar,
And bids the tempest waft her from the shore:
Then with a skilful helm she sweeps the seas,
And manages the raging storm with ease;
(Her faith can govern death) she spreads her wings
Wide to the wind, and as she sails she sings,
And loses by degrees, the sight of mortal things.
As the shores lessen, so her joys arise,
The waves roll gentler, and the tempest dies:
Now vast eternity fills all her sight!
She floats on the broad deep with infinite delight,
The seas for ever calm, the skies for ever bright.

A Prospect of the Resurrection.

I

How long shall death the tyrant reign
And triumph o'er the just,
While the rich blood of martyrs slain
Lies mingled with the dust?

446

II

When shall the tedious night be gone?
When will our Lord appear?
Our fond desires would pray him down,
Our love embrace him here.

III

Let faith arise and climb the hills,
And from afar descry
How distant are his chariot-wheels,
And tell how fast they fly.

IV

Lo, I behold the scatt'ring shades,
The dawn of heav'n appears,
The sweet immortal morning spreads
Its blushes round the spheres.

V

I see the Lord of glory come,
And flaming guards around:
The skies divide to make him room,
The trumpet shakes the ground.

VI

I hear the voice, ‘Ye dead arise,’
And lo, the graves obey,
And waking saints with joyful eyes
Salute th'expected day.

VII

They leave the dust, and on the wing
Rise to the middle air,
In shining garments meet their King,
And low adore him there.

VIII

O may my humble spirit stand
Amongst them cloth'd in white!
The meanest place at his right-hand
Is infinite delight.

IX

How will our joy and wonder rise,
When our returning King
Shall bear us homeward thro' the skies
On love's triumphant wing!

447

Breathing toward the heavenly Country.

Casimire, book i. od. 19. Imitated.

Urit me Patriæ Decor, &c.

The beauty of my native land
Immortal love inspires;
I burn, I burn with strong desires,
And sigh, and wait the high command.
There glides the moon her shining way,
And shoots my heart thro' with a silver ray,
Upward my heart aspires:
A thousand lamps of golden light
Hung high, in vaulted azure, charm my sight,
And wink and beckon with their amorous fires,
O ye fair glories of my heav'nly home,
Bright centinels who guard my Father's court,
Where all the happy minds resort,
When will my Father's chariot come?
Must ye for ever walk the ethereal round?
For ever see the mourner lie
An exile of the sky,
A pris'ner of the ground?
Descend some shining servants from on high,
Build me a hasty tomb;
A grassy turf will raise my head;
The neighbouring lilies dress my bed;
And shed a cheap perfume.
Here I put off the chains of death,
My soul too long has worn:
Friends, I forbid one groaning breath,
Or tear to wet my urn;
Raphael, behold me all undrest,
Here gently lay this flesh to rest;
Then mount, and lead the path unknown,
Swift I pursue thee, flaming guide, on pinions of my own.

448

Casimiri Epigramma 100.

Englished. On Saint Ardalio, who from a Stage-player became a Christian, and suffered Martyrdom.

I

Ardalio jeers, and in his comic strains
The mysteries of our bleeding God profanes,
While his loud laughter shakes the painted scenes.

II

Heaven heard, and straight around the smoking throne
The kindling lightning in thick flashes shone,
And vengeful thunder murmur'd to be gone.

III

Mercy stood near, and with a smiling brow
Calm'd the loud thunder; ‘There's no need of you;
‘Grace shall descend, and the weak man subdue.’

IV

Grace leaves the skies, and he the stage forsakes,
He bows his head down to the martyring axe,
And as he bows, this gentle farewell speaks;

V

‘So goes the comedy of life away;
‘Vain earth, adieu; heaven will applaud to-day;
‘Strike, courteous tyrant, and conclude the play.

When the Protestant Church at Montpelier was demolished by the French King's Order, the Protestants laid the Stones up in their Burying-place, wherein a Jesuit made a Latin Epigram.

Englished thus:

A hug'not church, once at Montpelier built,
Stood and proclaim'd their madness and their guilt;
Too long it stood beneath heav'n's angry frown,
Worthy when rising to be thunder'd down.
Lewis, at last, th'avenger of the skies,
Commands, and level with the ground it lies:
The stones dispers'd, their wretched offspring come,
Gather, and heap them on their father's tomb.
Thus the curs'd house falls on the builder's head:
And tho' beneath the ground their bones are laid,
Yet the just vengeance still pursues the guilty dead.

The Answer, by a French Protestant.

Englished thus:

A Christian church once at Montpelier stood,
And nobly spoke the builder's zeal for God.
It stood the envy of the fierce dragoon,
But not deserv'd to be destroy'd so soon:
Yet Lewis, the wild tyrant of the age,
Tears down the walls, a victim to his rage.
Young faithful hands pile up the sacred stones
(Dear monument!) o'er their dead father's bones;
The stones shall move when the dead fathers rise,
Start up before the pale destroyer's eyes,
And testify his madness to th'avenging skies.

Two happy Rivals, Devotion and the Muse.

I.

Wild as the lightning, various as the moon,
Roves my Pindaric song:
Here she glows like burning noon
In fiercest flames, and here she plays
Gentle as star-beams on the midnight seas:
Now in a smiling angel's form,
Anon she rides upon the storm,
Loud as the noisy thunder, as a deluge strong,
Are my thoughts and wishes free,
And know no number nor degree?
Such is the muse: Lo, she disdains
The links and chains,
Measures and rules of vulgar strains,
And o'er the laws of harmony a sovereign queen she reigns.

II.

If she roves
By streams or groves
Tuning her pleasures or her pains,
My passion keeps her still in sight,
My passion holds an equal flight
Thro' love's, or nature's wide campaigns.
If with bold attempt she sings
Of the biggest mortal things,
Tottering thrones and nations slain;
Or breaks the fleets of warring kings,
While thunders roar
From shore to shore,
My soul sits fast upon her wings,
And sweeps the crimson surge, or scours the purple plain;
Still I attend her as she flies,
Round the broad globe, and all beneath the skies.

III.

But when from the meridian star
Long streaks of glory shine,
And heaven invites her from afar,
She takes the hint, she knows the sign,
The muse ascends her heavenly car,
And climbs the steepy path, and means the throne divine.

449

Then she leaves my fluttering mind
Clogg'd with clay, and unrefin'd,
Lengths of distance far behind:
Virtue lags with heavy wheel;
Faith has wings, but cannot rise,
Cannot rise,—Swift and high
As the winged numbers fly,
And faint devotion panting lies
Half way th'ethereal hill.

IV.

O why is piety so weak,
And yet the muse so strong?
When shall these hateful fetters break
That have confin'd me long?
Inward a glowing heat I feel,
A spark of heav'nly day;
But earthly vapours damp my zeal,
And heavy flesh drags me the downward way.
Faint are the efforts of my will,
And mortal passion charms my soul astray.
Shine, thou sweet hour of dear release,
Shine from the sky,
And call me high
To mingle with the choirs of glory and of bliss.
Devotion there begins the flight,
Awakes the song, and guides the way;
There love and zeal divine and bright
Trace out new regions in the world of light,
And scarce the boldest muse can follow or obey.

V.

I'm in a dream, and fancy reigns,
She spreads her gay delusive scenes;
Or is the vision true?
Behold Religion on her throne,
In awful state descending down,
And her dominions vast and bright within my spacious view.
She smiles, and with a courteous hand
She beckens me away;
I feel mine airy powers loose from the cumbrous clay,
And with a joyful haste obey
Religion's high command.
What lengths and heights and depths unknown!
Broad fields with blooming glory sown,
And seas, and skies, and stars her own,
In an unmeasur'd sphere!
What heavens of joy, and light serene,
Which nor the rolling sun has seen,
Where nor the roving muse has been
That greater traveller!

VI.

A long farewell to all below,
Farewell to all that sense can show,
To golden scenes, and flow'ry fields,
To all the worlds that fancy builds,
And all that poets know.
Now the swift transports of the mind
Leave the fluttering muse behind,
A thousand loose Pindaric plumes fly scatt'ring down the wind.
Amongst the clouds I lose my breath,
The rapture grows too strong:
The feeble pow'rs that nature gave
Faint, and drop downward to the grave;
Receive their fall, thou treasurer of death;
I will no more demand my tongue,
Till the gross organ well refin'd
Can trace the boundless flights of an unfetter'd mind,
And raise an equal song.
[_]

The following Poems of this Book are peculiarly dedicated to Divine Love.

 

Different ages have their different airs and fashions of writing. It was much more the fashion of the age, when these poems were written, to treat of divine subjects in the style of Solomon's Song than it is at this day, which will afford some apology for the writer, in his youngest years.

The Hazard of loving the Creatures.

I

Where'er my flatt'ring passions rove
I find a lurking snare;
'Tis dangerous to let loose our love
Beneath th'eternal fair.

II

Souls whom the tie of friendship binds,
And partners of our blood,
Seize a large portion of our minds,
And leave the less for God.

III

Nature has soft but pow'rful bands,
And reason she controls;
While children with their little hands
Hang closest to our souls.

IV

Thoughtless they act th'old serpent's part
What tempting things they be!
Lord, how they twine about our heart,
And draw it off from thee!

V

Our hasty wills rush blindly on
Where rising passion rolls,
And thus we make our fetters strong
To bind our slavish souls.

VI

Dear Sov'reign, break these fetters off,
And set our spirits free;
God in himself is bliss enough,
For we have all in thee.

450

Desiring to Love Christ.

I

Come, let me love: Or is thy mind
Harden'd to stone, or froze to ice?
I see the blessed Fair One bend
And stoop t'embrace me from the skies!

II

O! 'tis a thought would melt a rock,
And make a heart of iron move,
That those sweet lips, that heav'nly look,
Should seek and wish a mortal love!

III

I was a traitor doom'd to fire,
Bound to sustain eternal pains;
He flew on wings of strong desire,
Assum'd my guilt, and took my chains.

IV

Infinite grace! Almighty charms!
Stand in amaze, ye whirling skies,
Jesus the God, with naked arms;
Hangs on a cross of love, and dies.

V

Did pity ever stoop so low,
Dress'd in divinity and blood?
Was ever rebel courted so
In groans of an expiring God?

VI

Again he lives; and spreads his hands,
Hands that were nail'd to tort'ring smart;
‘By these dear wounds,’ says he; and stands
And prays to clasp me to his heart.

VII

Sure I must love; or are my ears
Still deaf, nor will my passion move?
Then let me melt this heart to tears;
This heart shall yield to death or love.

The Heart given away.

I

If there are passions in my soul,
(And passions sure they be)
Now they are all at thy control,
My Jesus, all for thee.

II

If love, that pleasing power, can rest
In hearts so hard as mine,
Come, gentle Saviour, to my breast,
For all my love is thine.

III

Let the gay world, with treach'rous art,
Allure my eyes in vain:
I have convey'd away my heart,
Ne'er to return again.

IV

I feel my warmest passions dead
To all that earth can boast:
This soul of mine was never made
For vanity and dust.

V

Now I can fix my thoughts above,
Amidst their flatt'ring charms,
Till the dear Lord that hath my love
Shall call me to his arms.

VI

So Gabriel, at his King's command,
From yon celestial hill,
Walks downward to our worthless land,
His soul points upward still.

VII

He glides along my mortal things,
Without a thought of love,
Fulfils his task, and spreads his wings
To reach the realms above.

Meditation in a Grove.

I

Sweet muse, descend and bless the shade,
And bless the evening grove;
Business, and noise, and day are fled,
And every care, but love.

II

But hence, ye wanton young and fair,
Mine is a purer flame;
No Phillis shall infect the air,
With her unhallowed name.

III

Jesus has all my powers possest,
My hopes, my fears, my joys:
He, the dear Sov'reign of my breast,
Shall still command my voice.

IV

Some of the fairest choirs above
Shall flock around my song,
With joy to hear the name they love
Sound from a mortal tongue.

V

His charms shall make my numbers flow,
And hold the falling floods,
While silence sits on ev'ry bough,
And bends the list'ning woods.

VI

I'll carve our passion on the bark,
And ev'ry wounded tree
Shall drop and bear some mystic mark
That Jesus dy'd for me.

VII

The swains shall wonder when they read,
Inscrib'd on all the grove,
That heav'n itself came down and bled
To win a mortal's love.

451

The Fairest and the only Beloved.

I.

Honour to that diviner ray
That first allur'd my eyes away
From ev'ry mortal fair;
All the gay things that held my sight
Seem but the twinkling sparks of night,
And languishing in doubtful light
Die at the morning-star.

II.

Whatever speaks the godhead great,
And fit to be ador'd,
Whatever makes the creature sweet,
And worthy of my passion, meet
Harmonious in my Lord.
A thousand graces ever rise
And bloom upon his face;
A thousand arrows from his eyes
Shoot thro' my heart with dear surprise,
And guard around the place.

III.

All nature's art shall never cure
The heav'nly pains I found,
And 'tis beyond all beauty's pow'r
To make another wound:
Earthly beauties grow and fade;
Nature heals the wounds she made,
But charms so much divine
Hold a long empire of the heart;
What heav'n has join'd shall never part,
And Jesus must be mine.

IV.

In vain the envious shades of night,
Or flatteries of the day
Would veil his image from my sight,
Or tempt my soul away;
Jesus is all my waking theme,
His lovely form meets ev'ry dream
And knows not to depart:
The passion reigns
Thro' all my veins,
And floating round the crimson stream,
Still finds him at my heart.

V.

Dwell there, for ever dwell, my Love;
Here I confine my sense;
Nor dare my wildest wishes rove
Nor stir a thought from thence.
Amidst thy glories and thy grace
Let all my remnant-minutes pass;
Grant, thou everlasting Fair,
Grant my soul a mansion there:
My soul aspires to see thy face
Tho' life should for the vision pay;
So rivers run to meet the sea,
And lose their nature in th'embrace.

VI.

Thou art my Ocean, thou my God;
In thee the passions of the mind
With joys and freedom unconsin'd
Exult, and spread their pow'rs abroad,
Not all the glittering things on high
Can make my heav'n, if thou remove;
I shall be tir'd and long to die;
Life is a pain without thy love;
Who could ever bear to be
Curst with immortality
Among the stars, but far from thee?

Mutual Love stronger than Death.

I.

Not the rich world of minds above
Can pay the mighty debt of love
I owe to Christ my God:
With pangs which none but he could feel
He brought my guilty soul from hell:
Not the first seraph's tongue can tell
The value of his blood.

II.

Kindly he seiz'd me in his arms,
From the false world's pernicious charms
With force divinely sweet.
Had I ten thousand lives my own,
At his demand,
With cheerful hand,
I'd pay the vital treasure down
In hourly tributes at his feet.

III.

But, Saviour, let me taste thy grace
With every fleeting breath;
And thro' that heaven of pleasure pass
To the cold arms of death;
Then I could lose successive souls
Fast as the minutes fly;
So billow after billow rolls
To kiss the shore and die.
[_]

The substance of the following Copy, and many of the Lines were sent me by an esteemed Friend, Mr. W. Nokes, with a desire that I would form them into a Pindaric Ode; but I retained his measures, lest I should too much alter his sense.

A Sight of Christ.

Angels of light, your God and King surround,
With noble songs; in his exalted flesh
He claims your worship; while his saints on earth,
Bless their Redeemer-God with humble tongues.
Angels with lofty honours crown his head;
We bowing at his feet, by faith, may feel
His distant influence, and confess his love.

452

Once I beheld his face, when beams divine
Broke from his eye-lids, and unusual light
Wrapt me at once in glory and surprise.
My joyful heart, high leaping in my breast,
With transport cry'd, ‘This is the Christ of God;’
Then threw my arms around in sweet embrace,
And clasp'd, and bow'd adoring low, till I was lost in him.
While he appears, no other charms can hold
Or draw my soul, asham'd of former things,
Which no remembrance now deserve, or name,
Tho' with contempt; best in oblivion hid.
But the bright shine & presence soon withdrew;
I sought him whom I love, but found him not;
I felt his absence; and with strongest cries
Proclaim'd, ‘Where Jesus is not, all is vain.’
Whether I hold him with a full delight,
Or seek him panting with extreme desire,
'Tis he alone can please my wond'ring soul;
To hold or seek him is my only choice.
If he refrain on me to cast his eye
Down from his palace, nor my longing soul
With upward look can spy my dearest Lord
Thro' his blue pavement, I'll behold him still
With sweet reflection on the peaceful cross,
All in his blood and anguish groaning deep,
Gasping and dying there—
This sight I ne'er can lose, by it I live:
A quick'ning virtue from his death inspir'd
Is life and breath to me; his flesh my food;
His vital blood I drink, and hence my strength.
I live, I'm strong, and now eternal life
Beats quick within my breast, my vigorous mind
Spurns the dull earth, and on her fiery wings
Reaches the mount of purposes divine,
Counsels of peace betwixt th'almighty Three
Conceiv'd at once, and sign'd without debate
In perfect union of th'eternal mind.
With vast amaze I see th'unfathom'd thoughts,
Infinite schemes, and infinite designs
Of God's own heart, in which he ever rests.
Eternity lies open to my view;
Here the beginning and the end of all
I can discover; Christ the end of all,
And Christ the great beginning; he my head,
My God, my glory, and my all in all.
O that the day, the joyful day were come,
When the first Adam from his ancient dust
Crown'd with new honours shall revive, and see
Jesus his Son and Lord; while shouting saints
Surround their King, and God's eternal Son
Shines in the midst, but with superior beams,
And like himself; then the mysterious Word
Long hid behind the letter shall appear
All spirit and life, and in the fullest light
Stand forth to public view; and there disclose
His Father's sacred works, and wondrous ways;
Then wisdom, righteousness and grace divine,
Thro' all the infinite transactions past,
Inwrought and shining, shall with double blaze
Strike our astonish'd eyes, and ever reign
Admir'd and glorious in triumphant light.
Death and the tempter, and the man of sin
Now at the bar arraign'd, in judgment cast,
Shall vex the saints no more: But perfect love
And loudest praises perfect joy create,
While ever circling years maintain the blissful state.

Love on a Cross, and a Throne.

I

Now let my faith grow strong, and rise
And view my Lord in all his love;
Look back to hear his dying cries,
Then mount and see his throne above.

II

See where he languish'd on the cross;
Beneath my sins he groan'd and dy'd;
See where he sits to plead my cause
By his almighty Father's side.

III

If I behold his bleeding heart,
There love in floods of sorrow reigns,
He triumphs o'er the killing smart,
And buys my pleasure with his pains.

IV

Or if I climb th'eternal hills
Where the dear Conqueror sits enthron'd,
Still in his heart compassion dwells,
Near the memorials of his wound.

V

How shall a pardon'd rebel show
How much I love my dying God?
Lord, here I banish ev'ry foe,
I hate the sins that cost thy blood.

VI

I hold no more commerce with hell,
My dearest lusts shall all depart;
But let thine image ever dwell
Stampt as a seal upon my heart.

A Preparatory Thought for the Lord's-Supper.

In Imitation of Isaiah lxiii. 1, 2, 3.

I

What heav'nly Man, or lovely God,
Comes marching downward from the skies,
Array'd in garments roll'd in blood,
With joy and pity in his eyes?

453

II

The Lord! the Saviour! yes, 'tis he,
I know him by the smiles he wears;
Dear glorious Man that dy'd for me,
Drench'd deep in agonies and tears!

III

Lo, he reveals his shining breast;
I own those wounds, and I adore:
Lo, he prepares a royal feast,
Sweet fruit of the sharp pangs he bore!

IV

Whence flow these favours so divine!
Lord, why so lavish of thy blood?
Why for such earthly souls as mine,
This heav'nly flesh, this sacred food?

V

'Twas his own love that made him bleed,
That nail'd him to the cursed tree;
'Twas his own love this table spread
For such unworthy worms as we.

VI

Then let us taste the Saviour's love,
Come, faith, and feed upon the Lord:
With glad consent our lips shall move
And sweet hosannas crown the board.

Converse with Christ.

I

I'm tir'd with visits, modes, and forms,
And flatteries made to fellow-worms:
Their conversation cloys;
Their vain amours, and empty stuff:
But I can ne'er enjoy enough
Of thy best company, my Lord, thou life of all my joys.

II

When he begins to tell his love,
Thro' ev'ry vein my passions move,
The captive of his tongue:
In midnight shades, on frosty ground,
I could attend the pleasing sound,
Nor should I feel December cold, nor think the darkness long.

III

There, while I hear my Saviour-God
Count o'er the sins (a heavy load)
He bore upon the tree,
Inward I blush with secret shame,
And weep, and love, and bless the name
That knew not guilt nor grief his own, but bare it all for me.

IV

Next he describes the thorns he wore,
And talks his bloody passions o'er,
Till I am drown'd in tears:
Yet with the sympathetic smart
There's a strange joy beats round my heart;
The cursed tree has blessings in't, my sweetest balm it bears.

V

I hear the glorious Sufferer tell,
How on his cross he vanquish'd hell,
And all the powers beneath;
Transported and inspir'd, my tongue
Attempts his triumphs in a song:
‘How has the serpent lost his sting, and where's thy victory, death?’

VI

But when he shows his hands and heart,
With those dear prints of dying smart,
He sets my soul on fire:
Not the beloved John could rest
With more delight upon that breast,
Nor Thomas pry into those wounds with more intense desire.

VII

Kindly he opens me his ear,
And bids me pour my sorrow there,
And tell him all my pains:
Thus while I ease my burden'd heart,
In ev'ry woe he bears a part,
His arms embrace me, and his hand my drooping head sustains.

VIII

Fly from my thoughts, all human things,
And sporting swains, and fighting kings,
And tales of wanton love:
My soul disdains that little snare
The tangles of Amira's hair:
Thine arms, my God, are sweeter bands, nor can my heart remove.

Grace shining and Nature fainting.

Sol. Song i. 3. and ii. 5. and vi. 5.

I.

Tell me, fairest of thy kind,
Tell me, Shepherd, all divine,
Where this fainting head reclin'd
May relieve such cares as mine:
Shepherd, lead me to thy grove;
If burning noon infect the sky
The sick'ning sheep to covert fly,
The sheep not half so faint as I,
Thus overcome with love.

II.

Say, thou dear Sov'reign of my breast,
Where dost thou lead thy flock to rest:
Why should I appear like one
Wild and wand'ring all alone,
Unbeloved and unknown?
O my great Redeemer, say,
Shall I turn my feet astray!
Will Jesus bear to see me rove,
To see me seek another love?

454

III.

Ne'er had I known his dearest name,
Ne'er had I felt this inward flame,
Had not his heart-strings first began the tender sound:
Nor can I bear the thought, that he
Should leave the sky,
Should bleed and die,
Should love a wretch so vile as me
Without returns of passion for his dying wound.

IV.

His eyes are glory mix'd with grace;
In his delightful awful face
Sits majesty and gentleness.
So tender is my bleeding heart
That with a frown he kills;
His absence is perpetual smart,
Nor is my soul refin'd enough
To bear the beaming of his love,
And feel his warmer smiles.
Where shall I rest this drooping head;
I love, I love the sun, and yet I want the shade.

V.

My sinking spirits feebly strive
T'endure the ecstasy;
Beneath these rays I cannot live,
And yet without them die.
None knows the pleasure and the pain
That all my inward pow'rs sustain
But such as feel a Saviour's love, and love the God again.

VI.

O why should beauty heav'nly bright
Stoop to charm a mortal's sight,
And torture with the sweet excess of light?
Our hearts, alas! how frail their make!
With their own weight of joy they break;
Oh! why is love so strong, and nature's self so weak?

VII.

Turn, turn away thine eyes,
Ascend the azure hills, and shine
Amongst the happy tenants of the skies;
They can sustain a vision so divine.
O turn thy lovely glories from me,
The joys are too intense, the glories overcome me.

VIII.

Dear Lord, forgive my rash complaint,
And love me still
Against my froward will;
Unveil thy beauties, tho' I faint.
Send the great herald from the sky,
And at the trumpet's awful roar
This feeble state of things shall fly,
And pain and pleasure mix no more:
Then shall I gaze with strengthened sight
On glories infinitely bright,
My heart shall all be love, my Jesus all delight.

Love to Christ, present or absent.

I

Of all the joys we mortals know,
Jesus, thy love exceeds the rest;
Love, the best blessing here below,
And nearest image of the blest.

II

Sweet are my thoughts, and soft my cares,
When the celestial flame I feel;
In all my hopes, and all my fears,
There's something kind and pleasing still.

III

While I am held in his embrace
There's not a thought attempts to rove;
Each smile he wears upon his face
Fixes, and charms, and fires my love.

IV

He speaks, and straight immortal joys
Run through my ears, and reach my heart;
My soul all melts at that dear voice,
And pleasure shoots thro' ev'ry part.

V

If he withdraw a moment's space,
He leaves a sacred pledge behind;
Here in this breast his image stays,
The grief and comfort of my mind.

VI

While of his absence I complain,
And long, and weep as lovers do,
There's a strange pleasure in the pain,
And tears have their own sweetness too.

VII

When round his courts by day I rove,
Or ask the watchman of the night
For some kind tidings of my love,
His very name creates delight.

VIII

Jesus, my God; yet rather come;
Mine eyes would dwell upon thy face;
'Tis best to see my Lord at home,
And feel the presence of his grace.

The Absence of Christ.

I

Come, lead me to some lofty shade
Where turtles moan their loves;
Tall shadows were for lovers made;
And grief becomes the groves.

II

'Tis no mean beauty of the ground
That has inslav'd mine eyes;
I faint beneath a nobler wound,
Nor love below the skies.

III

Jesus the spring of all that's bright,
The everlasting fair,
Heaven's ornament, and heaven's delight,
Is my eternal care.

455

IV

But ah! how far above this grove
Does the bright charmer dwell?
Absence, thou keenest wound to love,
That sharpest pain, I feel.

V

Pensive I climb the sacred hills,
And near him vent my woes;
Yet his sweet face he still conceals,
Yet still my passion grows.

VI

I murmur to the hollow vale,
I tell the rocks my flame,
And bless the echo in her cell
That best repeats her name.

VII

My passion breathes perpetual sighs,
Till pitying winds shall hear,
And gently bear them up the skies,
And gently wound his ear.

Desiring his Descent to Earth.

I

Jesus, I love. Come, dearest name,
Come and possess this heart of mine;
I love, tho' 'tis a fainter flame,
And infinitely less than thine.

II

O! if my Lord would leave the skies,
Drest in the rays of mildest grace,
My soul should hasten to my eyes,
To meet the pleasures of his face.

III

How would I feast on all his charms,
Then round his lovely feet entwine!
Worship and love in all their forms,
Should honour beauty so divine.

IV

In vain the tempter's flatt'ring tongue,
The world in vain should bid me move,
In vain; for I should gaze so long
Till I were all transform'd to love.

V

Then, mighty God, I'd sing and say,
‘What empty names are crowns and kings!
‘Amongst 'em give these worlds away,
‘These little despicable things.’

VI

I would not ask to climb the sky,
Nor envy angels their abode,
I have a heav'n as bright and high
In the blest vision of my God.

Ascending to him in Heaven.

I

'Tis pure delight, without alloy,
Jesus, to hear thy name,
My spirit leaps with inward joy,
I feel the sacred flame.

II

My passions hold a pleasing reign,
While love inspires my breast,
Love, the divinest of the train,
The sov'reign of the rest.

III

This is the grace must live and sing,
When faith and fear shall cease,
Must sound from ev'ry joyful string
Thro' the sweet groves of bliss.

IV

Let life immortal seize my clay;
Let love refine my blood;
Her flames can bear my soul away,
Can bring me near my God.

V

Swift I ascend the heav'nly place,
And hasten to my home,
I leap to meet thy kind embrace,
I come, O Lord, I come.

VI

Sink down, ye separating hills,
Let guilt and death remove,
'Tis love that drives my chariot wheels,
And death must yield to love.

The Presence of God worth dying for; or, the Death of Moses.

I

Lord, 'tis an infinite delight
To see thy lovely face,
To dwell whole ages in thy sight,
And feel thy vital rays.

II

This Gabriel knows; and sings thy name
With rapture on his tongue;
Moses the saint enjoys the same,
And heav'n repeats the song.

III

While the bright nation sounds thy praise
From each eternal hill,
Sweet odours of exhaling grace
The happy region fill.

IV

Thy love, a sea without a shore,
Spreads life and joy abroad:
O 'tis a heav'n worth dying for
To see a smiling God!

V

Show me thy face, and I'll away
From all inferior things:
Speak, Lord, and here I quit my clay,
And stretch my airy wings.

VI

Sweet was the journey to the sky
The wondrous prophet try'd;
‘Climb up the mount.’ says God, ‘and die,’
The prophet climb'd and dy'd.

456

VII

Softly his fainting head he lay
Upon his Maker's breast,
His Maker kiss'd his soul away,
And laid his flesh to rest.

VIII

In God's own arms he left the breath
That God's own Spirit gave;
His was the noblest road to death,
And his the sweetest grave.

Long for his Return.

I

O 'twas a mournful parting day!
‘Farewell, my spouse,’ he said;
(How tedious, Lord, is thy delay!
How long my love hath stay'd!)

II

Farewell; at once he left the ground,
And climb'd his Father's sky:
Lord, I would tempt thy chariot down,
Or leap to thee on high.

III

Round the creation wild I rove,
And search the globe in vain;
There's nothing here that's worth my love
Till thou return again.

IV

My passions fly to seek their King,
And send their groans abroad,
They beat the air with heavy wing,
And mourn an absent God:

V

With inward pain my heart-strings sound,
My soul dissolves away;
Dear Sov'reign, whirl the seasons round,
And bring the promis'd day.

Hope in Darkness.

1694.

I.

Yet, gracious God,
Yet will I seek thy smiling face;
What tho' a short eclipse his beauties shroud
And bar the influence of his rays,
'Tis but a morning vapour, or a summer cloud:
He is my Sun tho' he refuse to shine,
Tho' for a moment he depart
I dwell for ever on his heart,
For ever he on mine.
Early before the light arise
I'll spring a thought away to God;
The passion of my heart and eyes
Shall shout a thousand groans and sighs,
A thousand glances strike the skies,
The floor of his abode.

II.

Dear Sov'reign, hear thy servant pray,
Bend the blue heav'ns, eternal King,
Downward thy cheerful graces bring;
Or shall I breathe in vain and pant my hours away?
Break, glorious Brightness, thro' the gloomy veil,
Look how the armies of despair
Aloft their sooty banners rear
Round my poor captive soul, and dare
Pronounce me prisoner of hell,
But thou, my Sun, and thou, my Shield,
Wilt save me in the bloody field;
Break, glorious Brightness, shoot one glimm'ring ray,
One glance of thine creates a day,
And drives the troops of hell away.

III.

Happy the times, but ah! the times are gone
When wondrous pow'r and radiant grace
Round the tall arches of the temple shone,
And mingled their victorious rays:
Sin, with all its ghastly train,
Fled to the deeps of death again,
And smiling triumph sat on every face:
Our spirits raptur'd with the sight
Were all devotion, all delight,
And loud hosannas sounded the Redeemer's praise.
Here could I say,
(And point the place whereon I stood)
Here I enjoy'd a visit half the day
From my descending God:
I was regal'd with heav'nly fare,
With fruit and manna from above;
Divinely sweet the blessings were
While mine Emanuel was there:
And o'er my head
The conqueror spread
The banner of his love.

IV.

Then why my heart sunk down so low?
Why do my eyes dissolve and flow,
And hopeless nature mourn?
Review, my soul, those pleasing days,
Read his unalterable grace
Thro' the displeasure of his face,
And wait a kind return.
A father's love may raise a frown
To chide the child, or prove the son,
But love will ne'er destroy;
The hour of darkness is but short,
Faith be thy life, and patience thy support,
The morning brings the joy.

Come, Lord Jesus.

I

When shall thy lovely face be seen?
When shall our eyes behold our God?
What lengths of distance lie between,
And hills of guilt? a heavy load!

457

II

Our months are ages of delay,
And slowly every minute wears:
Fly, winged time, and roll away
These tedious rounds of sluggish years.

III

Ye heav'nly gates, loose all your chains,
Let the eternal pillars bow;
Blest Saviour, cleave the starry plains,
And make the crystal mountains flow.

IV

Hark, how thy saints unite their cries,
And pray and wait the general doom;
Come, thou, the soul of all our joys,
Thou, the desire of nations, come.

V

Put thy bright robes of triumph on,
And bless our eyes, and bless our ears,
Thou absent love, thou dear unknown,
Thou Fairest of ten thousand fairs.

VI

Our heart-strings groan with deep complaint,
Our flesh lies panting, Lord, for thee,
And ev'ry limb, and ev'ry joint,
Stretches for immortality.

VII

Our spirits shake their eager wings,
And burn to meet thy flying throne;
We rise away from mortal things
T'attend thy shining chariot down.

VIII

Now let our cheerful eyes survey
The blazing earth and melting hills,
And smile to see the lightnings play,
And flash along before thy wheels.

IX

O for a shout of violent joys
To join the trumpet's thund'ring sound!
The angel herald shakes the skies,
Awakes the graves and tears the ground.

X

Ye slumb'ring saints, a heav'nly host
Stands waiting at your gaping tombs;
Let ev'ry sacred sleeping dust
Leap into life, for Jesus comes.

XI

Jesus, the God of might and love,
New-moulds our limbs of cumb'rous clay;
Quick as seraphic flames we move,
Active and young, and fair as they.

XII

Our airy feet with unknown flight,
Swift as the motions of desire,
Run up the hills of heav'nly light,
And leave the welt'ring world in fire.

Bewailing my own Inconstancy.

I

I love the Lord; but ah! how far
My thoughts from the dear object are!
This wanton heart, how wide it roves!
And fancy meets a thousand loves.

II

If my soul burn to see my God,
I tread the courts of his abode,
But troops of rivals throng the place
And tempt me off before his face.

III

Would I enjoy my Lord alone,
I bid my passions all be gone,
All but my love; and charge my will
To bar the door and guard it still.

IV

But cares, or trifles, make, or find,
Still new avenues to the mind,
Till I with grief and wonder see
Huge crowds betwixt the Lord and me

V

Oft I am told the muse will prove
A friend to piety and love;
Straight I begin some sacred song,
And take my Saviour on my tongue.

VI

Strangely I lose his lovely face,
To hold the empty sounds in chase;
At best the chimes divide my heart,
And the muse shares the larger part.

VII

False confident! and falser breast!
Fickle, and fond of ev'ry guest:
Each airy image as it flies,
Here finds admittance thro' my eyes.

VIII

This foolish heart can leave her God,
And shadows tempt her thoughts abroad:
How shall I fix this wand'ring mind?
Or throw my fetters on the wind?

IX

Look gently down, almighty Grace,
Prison me round in thine embrace;
Pity the soul that would be thine,
And let thy pow'r my love confine.

X

Say, when shall thy bright moment be
That I shall live alone for thee,
My heart no foreign lords adore,
And the wild muse prove false no more?

Forsaken, yet hoping.

I

Happy the hours, the golden days,
When I could call my Jesus mine,
And sit and view his smiling face,
And melt in pleasures all divine.

458

II

Near to my heart, within my arms
He lay, till sin defil'd my breast,
Till broken vows, and earthly charms,
Tir'd and provok'd my heav'nly guest.

III

And now he's gone, O mighty woe!
Gone from my soul, and hides his love!
Curse on you, sins, that griev'd him so,
Ye sins, that forc'd him to remove.

IV

Break, break, my heart; complain, my tongue;
Hither, my friends, your sorrows bring:
Angels, assist my doleful song,
If you have e'er a mourning string.

V

But ah! your joys are ever high,
Ever his lovely face you see;
While my poor spirits pant and die,
And groan, for thee, my God, for thee.

VI

Yet let my hope look thro' my tears,
And spy afar his rolling throne;
His chariot thro' the cleaving spheres
Shall bring the bright Beloved down.

VII

Swift as a roe flies o'er the hills,
My soul springs out to meet him high,
Then the fair Conqueror turns his wheels,
And climbs the mansions of the sky.

VIII

There smiling joy for ever reigns,
No more the turtle leaves the dove;
Farewell to jealousies, and pains,
And all the ills of absent love.

THE CONCLUSION.

God exalted above all Praise.

I

Eternal pow'r! whose high abode
Becomes the grandeur of a God;
Infinite length beyond the bounds
Where stars revolve their little rounds.

II

The lowest step above thy seat
Rises too high for Gabriel's feet,
In vain the tall archangel tries
To reach thine height with wond'ring eyes.

III

Thy dazzling beauties whilst he sings
He hides his face behind his wings;
And ranks of shining thrones around
Fall worshipping, and spread the ground.

IV

Lord, what shall earth and ashes do?
We would adore our Maker too;
From sin and dust to thee we cry,
‘The Great, the Holy, and the High!’

V

Earth from afar has heard thy fame,
And worms have learnt to lisp thy name;
But O, the glories of thy mind
Leave all our soaring thoughts behind.

VI

God is in heav'n, and men below;
Be short our tunes; our words be few;
A sacred reverence checks our songs,
And praise sits silent on our tongues.

Tibi silet laus, O Deus,

Psalm lxv. 1.
END OF THE FIRST BOOK.