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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True Courage.
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 | The Works of the Reverend and Learned Isaac Watts, D. D. |  |
True Courage.
Honour demands my song. Forget the ground,
My generous muse, and sit amongst the stars!
There sing the soul, that, conscious of her birth,
Lives like a native of the vital world,
Amongst these dying clods, and bears her state
Just to herself: How nobly she maintains
Her character, superior to the flesh,
She wields her passions like her limbs, and knows
The brutal powers were only born t'obey.
My generous muse, and sit amongst the stars!
There sing the soul, that, conscious of her birth,
Lives like a native of the vital world,
466
Just to herself: How nobly she maintains
Her character, superior to the flesh,
She wields her passions like her limbs, and knows
The brutal powers were only born t'obey.
This is the man whom storms could never make
Meanly complain; nor can a flatt'ring gale
Make him talk proudly: He hath no desire
To read his secret fate; yet unconcern'd
And calm could meet his unborn destiny,
In all its charming, or its frightful shapes.
Meanly complain; nor can a flatt'ring gale
Make him talk proudly: He hath no desire
To read his secret fate; yet unconcern'd
And calm could meet his unborn destiny,
In all its charming, or its frightful shapes.
He that unshrinking, and without a groan,
Bears the first wound, may finish all the war
With mere courageous silence, and come off
Conqueror: For the man that well conceals
The heavy strokes of fate, he bears 'em well.
Bears the first wound, may finish all the war
With mere courageous silence, and come off
Conqueror: For the man that well conceals
The heavy strokes of fate, he bears 'em well.
He, tho' th'Atlantic and the Midland seas
With adverse surges meet, and rise on high
Suspended 'twixt the winds, then rush amain
Mingled with flames, upon his single head,
And clouds, and stars, and thunder, firm he stands,
Secure of his best life; unhurt, unmov'd;
And drops his lower nature, born for death.
Then from the lofty castle of his mind
Sublime looks down, exulting, and surveys
The ruins of creation; (souls alone
Are heirs of dying worlds;) a piercing glance
Shoots upwards from between his closing lids,
To reach his birth-place, and without a sigh
He bids his batter'd flesh lie gently down
Amongst its native rubbish; whilst the spirit
Breathes and flies upward, an undoubted guest
Of the third heav'n, th'unruinable sky.
With adverse surges meet, and rise on high
Suspended 'twixt the winds, then rush amain
Mingled with flames, upon his single head,
And clouds, and stars, and thunder, firm he stands,
Secure of his best life; unhurt, unmov'd;
And drops his lower nature, born for death.
Then from the lofty castle of his mind
Sublime looks down, exulting, and surveys
The ruins of creation; (souls alone
Are heirs of dying worlds;) a piercing glance
Shoots upwards from between his closing lids,
To reach his birth-place, and without a sigh
He bids his batter'd flesh lie gently down
Amongst its native rubbish; whilst the spirit
Breathes and flies upward, an undoubted guest
Of the third heav'n, th'unruinable sky.
Thither, when fate has brought our willing souls,
No matter whether 'twas a sharp disease,
Or a sharp sword, that help'd the travellers on,
And push'd us to our home. Bear up, my friend,
Serenely, and break thro' the stormy brine
With steady prow; know, we shall once arrive
At the fair haven of eternal bliss,
To which we ever steer; whether as kings
Of wide command we've spread the spacious sea
With a broad painted fleet, or row'd along
In a thin cock-boat with a little oar.
No matter whether 'twas a sharp disease,
Or a sharp sword, that help'd the travellers on,
And push'd us to our home. Bear up, my friend,
Serenely, and break thro' the stormy brine
With steady prow; know, we shall once arrive
At the fair haven of eternal bliss,
To which we ever steer; whether as kings
Of wide command we've spread the spacious sea
With a broad painted fleet, or row'd along
In a thin cock-boat with a little oar.
There let my native plank shift me to land
And I'll be happy: Thus I'll leap ashore
Joyful and fearless on th'immortal coast,
Since all I leave is mortal, and it must be lost.
And I'll be happy: Thus I'll leap ashore
Joyful and fearless on th'immortal coast,
Since all I leave is mortal, and it must be lost.
| The Works of the Reverend and Learned Isaac Watts, D. D. | |