Thoughts on the glorious epiphany of the Lord Jesus Christ A poetical essay written at Southampton in the Year MDCCLVII. Sacred to Friendship. By the Reverend William Dodd [etc.] |
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 | Thoughts on the glorious epiphany of the Lord Jesus Christ |  |
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THOUGHTS ON THE GLORIOUS EPIPHANY, &c.
Soft blew the tepid breeze, wafting fair Health
The rosy nymph, from Hampton's beauteous bay:
While on the sea-green surface, polish'd smooth
As Parian marble, play'd the golden beams
Of western Sol, gilding the gloomy groves
That from the forests heights depend, and cloath
With leafy majesty the shore: the hum
Mean while of busy merchandize; the cry
Of sailors, light of heart, and the mixt din
Of soldiers martial drum, and shrill-ton'd fife
Just dying, on the distant ear confus'd.
All nature smil'd: heav'n, earth and sea conjoin'd
Their beauties to exalt the glowing heart.
The rosy nymph, from Hampton's beauteous bay:
While on the sea-green surface, polish'd smooth
As Parian marble, play'd the golden beams
Of western Sol, gilding the gloomy groves
That from the forests heights depend, and cloath
With leafy majesty the shore: the hum
Mean while of busy merchandize; the cry
Of sailors, light of heart, and the mixt din
Of soldiers martial drum, and shrill-ton'd fife
Just dying, on the distant ear confus'd.
All nature smil'd: heav'n, earth and sea conjoin'd
Their beauties to exalt the glowing heart.
Alas, how lost their beauties, and how dead
To yonder hapless multitude, that rove
In silent sort along the sea-beat shore:
And send full oft their wishes and their sighs
Big with distress, to that dear native land
From whence, sad chance of war, torn by rude force
They languish prisoners in a foreign clime!
No more they view their lov'd Acadia's plains;
No more their happy homes, and fertile fields;
No more, their joyful families around,
They taste the pleasures of domestic peace,
Nor quaff full draughts from freedom flowing bowl.
Their plains so lov'd, their fields with plenty crown'd,
Rude soldiers waste: and they, immers'd in woe,
Tread the lone beach: while on their languid sight
The pleasing views around unheeded rise;—
They rise on captives!—What's the gaudy room,
The silken tapestry, or the cedar'd floor,
To the lone linnet, sever'd from his mate
And forests wild and free?—Who shall forbid
The generous tear to swell the pitying eye?
What tho' of hostile race, still they are men:
And while we view them weeping o'er the graves
Of friends departed, while we hear their prayers,
Kneeling in sorrow sad those graves around:
While we behold them slowly as they tread,
With visage wan, and port disconsolate
From burden'd breast heaving the deep-fetch'd groan,
From languid eye bursting the trembling tear;—
What Briton wears a heart, steel'd to the touch
Of gentle Pity? Who can then refuse
A sympathetic feeling of their woe!
To yonder hapless multitude, that rove
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And send full oft their wishes and their sighs
Big with distress, to that dear native land
From whence, sad chance of war, torn by rude force
They languish prisoners in a foreign clime!
No more they view their lov'd Acadia's plains;
No more their happy homes, and fertile fields;
No more, their joyful families around,
They taste the pleasures of domestic peace,
Nor quaff full draughts from freedom flowing bowl.
Their plains so lov'd, their fields with plenty crown'd,
Rude soldiers waste: and they, immers'd in woe,
Tread the lone beach: while on their languid sight
The pleasing views around unheeded rise;—
They rise on captives!—What's the gaudy room,
The silken tapestry, or the cedar'd floor,
To the lone linnet, sever'd from his mate
And forests wild and free?—Who shall forbid
The generous tear to swell the pitying eye?
What tho' of hostile race, still they are men:
And while we view them weeping o'er the graves
Of friends departed, while we hear their prayers,
Kneeling in sorrow sad those graves around:
While we behold them slowly as they tread,
With visage wan, and port disconsolate
From burden'd breast heaving the deep-fetch'd groan,
3
What Briton wears a heart, steel'd to the touch
Of gentle Pity? Who can then refuse
A sympathetic feeling of their woe!
Oh, my Maria, may we ne'er refuse
The just, the gen'rous tribute. There's a pain
Sweetly delightful in soft Pity's touch,
That gladdens, while it wounds the heart humane.
May not their lot be ours?—For who can tell
The dire event of war?—Should the great God,
In just resentment of our nation's crimes,
Blast our attempts, and frustrate all our hopes,
And give us for a prey to Gallia's arms.—
—Avert it gracious heav'n!—yet should such woe
O'erwhelm our land, our brethren in distress,
Acadia's sons, hold up the faithful glass,
And give us a sad picture of ourselves,
Prisoners in foreign climes!—How should the thought
With humble gratitude inspire the soul,
And tune the tongue to sing his boundless praise,
Whose countless mercies, in rich clusters, hang
Around our happy tents? Where every man
Beneath his own vine sits, and eats secure
Of his own fig-tree? Gratitude and praise
Will best secure those mercies: God delights
Chief in his servants thanks.—How should the thought
Raise our fond hearts above this dark, dim spot,
And shew us the deep poverty of earth
And all its best enjoyments: where no rose
Without a briar is found; where grows no sweet
Without its poison: and whose dearest bliss
Is bounded by the grave:—How should it teach
To separate from our souls its fatal love,
And lead to nobler hope, to nobler love,
Hope, that deceives not; Love, that never fails!
The just, the gen'rous tribute. There's a pain
Sweetly delightful in soft Pity's touch,
That gladdens, while it wounds the heart humane.
May not their lot be ours?—For who can tell
The dire event of war?—Should the great God,
In just resentment of our nation's crimes,
Blast our attempts, and frustrate all our hopes,
And give us for a prey to Gallia's arms.—
—Avert it gracious heav'n!—yet should such woe
O'erwhelm our land, our brethren in distress,
Acadia's sons, hold up the faithful glass,
And give us a sad picture of ourselves,
Prisoners in foreign climes!—How should the thought
With humble gratitude inspire the soul,
And tune the tongue to sing his boundless praise,
Whose countless mercies, in rich clusters, hang
Around our happy tents? Where every man
Beneath his own vine sits, and eats secure
Of his own fig-tree? Gratitude and praise
Will best secure those mercies: God delights
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Raise our fond hearts above this dark, dim spot,
And shew us the deep poverty of earth
And all its best enjoyments: where no rose
Without a briar is found; where grows no sweet
Without its poison: and whose dearest bliss
Is bounded by the grave:—How should it teach
To separate from our souls its fatal love,
And lead to nobler hope, to nobler love,
Hope, that deceives not; Love, that never fails!
Come, then, Maria, and as join'd in heart,
And that sweet nuptial union, whence hath flow'd
Streams of increasing happiness to crown
Our faithful passion: come, and let us join
Our fondest efforts, nobly to upraise
Our best affections, and employ them there,
Where our best bliss demands: on that bright scene
Of Love divine, “our glorious Lord's return,”
To welcome all his children into joy.
That longing for that day, our love may look
Beyond the narrow boundaries of time
To the dear hope of everlasting bliss.
Oh thou can'st tell, what soft serenity
That hope diffuses over all our joys:
How all our sorrows lose their name and sting,
Sooth'd by that hope, supported by that love!
Without that love the blessings of fair peace,
Become but splendid miseries: With that love
Captivity itself, and all the ills
Of desolating war, their horrors lose,
While faithful patience hath its perfect work
In the true pilgrim heart from earth abstract
And drawn by love already into heaven.—
And that sweet nuptial union, whence hath flow'd
Streams of increasing happiness to crown
Our faithful passion: come, and let us join
Our fondest efforts, nobly to upraise
Our best affections, and employ them there,
Where our best bliss demands: on that bright scene
Of Love divine, “our glorious Lord's return,”
To welcome all his children into joy.
That longing for that day, our love may look
Beyond the narrow boundaries of time
To the dear hope of everlasting bliss.
Oh thou can'st tell, what soft serenity
That hope diffuses over all our joys:
How all our sorrows lose their name and sting,
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Without that love the blessings of fair peace,
Become but splendid miseries: With that love
Captivity itself, and all the ills
Of desolating war, their horrors lose,
While faithful patience hath its perfect work
In the true pilgrim heart from earth abstract
And drawn by love already into heaven.—
But who, what mortal tongue can worthily
Or paint that love divine; or thro' the breast
Of men, diffuse its sweet persuasive power?
Come, spirit divine, thou the strong bond of love
Between the almighty Father and the Son,
The source and fountain of eternal love;
Thou only master of all human Hearts;
Come, and with mighty energy impart
Some touches of thy love, that my weak thoughts
Aided by thee, illumin'd, and uprais'd,
May to my subject's dignity respond:
Arouse the expectations of mankind;
Wake from deep sleep the inattentive throng:
And strike the noblest, fullest chord to sound
The melody of love, returning love,
With crown of gold to deck each faithful brow!
Or paint that love divine; or thro' the breast
Of men, diffuse its sweet persuasive power?
Come, spirit divine, thou the strong bond of love
Between the almighty Father and the Son,
The source and fountain of eternal love;
Thou only master of all human Hearts;
Come, and with mighty energy impart
Some touches of thy love, that my weak thoughts
Aided by thee, illumin'd, and uprais'd,
May to my subject's dignity respond:
Arouse the expectations of mankind;
Wake from deep sleep the inattentive throng:
And strike the noblest, fullest chord to sound
The melody of love, returning love,
With crown of gold to deck each faithful brow!
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Then shall we see him:—every eye shall see
And they which pierced him!—Then shall we hear,
Then every ear shall hear th'arch-angel's trump,
Proclaiming his approach; whose sound, more loud
Than when ten thousand cannons with one roar
Forth from their iron mouths, shake the vex'd deep
Down to the bottomless abyss, and round
Full many a league reiterate their hoarse
And brazen thunder: louder far the trump
Of that great angel shall be heard, whose sound,
The adamantine pillars of the heavens
Shall easy, as the wind the aspen's boughs,
Move waving to and fro: to the center shake
The trembling earth; the cearments of the grave
Burst:—and call forth to life th'unnumber'd dead.
And they which pierced him!—Then shall we hear,
Then every ear shall hear th'arch-angel's trump,
Proclaiming his approach; whose sound, more loud
Than when ten thousand cannons with one roar
Forth from their iron mouths, shake the vex'd deep
Down to the bottomless abyss, and round
Full many a league reiterate their hoarse
And brazen thunder: louder far the trump
Of that great angel shall be heard, whose sound,
The adamantine pillars of the heavens
Shall easy, as the wind the aspen's boughs,
Move waving to and fro: to the center shake
The trembling earth; the cearments of the grave
Burst:—and call forth to life th'unnumber'd dead.
As, when the bounteous Sun from Aries rolls,
Quick'ning with genial light the pregnant world,
All nature seems reviving: wide around
A living verdure cloaths the blooming earth,
And chears the languid eyes, that late fatigu'd
Stretch'd o'er the plains, white with the glistering snow;
The modest daisy and the cowslip wan
Checquer the vivid green: and pale beneath
The budding hawthorne the rathe primrose rears
Her scenty flowrets, with blue violets join'd,
That, fond of privacy, their odours rich
Present, first offerings, to their sire, the sun;
Of silent active virtue emblems meet.
No more the hedges with their branches brown,
And trees with naked tops, staring to heav'n,
Deform creation: here the blossoms white
The lenient air with richer odours fill,
Than breathe from Coromandel's spicy coast:
There the big gems burst beauteous into leaf,
And give the trees their honour: every herb
Uprears its dewy head: and teeming earth
From fertile bowels casts her precious things,
The fulness of her bounty, precious fruits.—
—So shall she cast her dead: when that great morn
Of resurrection comes; when that loud trump
Of the arch-angel sounds: when shines the light,
The light eternal, and with power divine
Our bodies moulder'd into native dust
Shall quicken into life: and give to rise,
Wearing far other forms, our mortal clad
With immortality, and our corrupt
In incorruption lovely.—Thus their trusts
Innumerous, sacred, shall the earth and sea
At the dread summons, faithfully resign!
Quick'ning with genial light the pregnant world,
All nature seems reviving: wide around
A living verdure cloaths the blooming earth,
And chears the languid eyes, that late fatigu'd
Stretch'd o'er the plains, white with the glistering snow;
The modest daisy and the cowslip wan
Checquer the vivid green: and pale beneath
The budding hawthorne the rathe primrose rears
Her scenty flowrets, with blue violets join'd,
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Present, first offerings, to their sire, the sun;
Of silent active virtue emblems meet.
No more the hedges with their branches brown,
And trees with naked tops, staring to heav'n,
Deform creation: here the blossoms white
The lenient air with richer odours fill,
Than breathe from Coromandel's spicy coast:
There the big gems burst beauteous into leaf,
And give the trees their honour: every herb
Uprears its dewy head: and teeming earth
From fertile bowels casts her precious things,
The fulness of her bounty, precious fruits.—
—So shall she cast her dead: when that great morn
Of resurrection comes; when that loud trump
Of the arch-angel sounds: when shines the light,
The light eternal, and with power divine
Our bodies moulder'd into native dust
Shall quicken into life: and give to rise,
Wearing far other forms, our mortal clad
With immortality, and our corrupt
In incorruption lovely.—Thus their trusts
Innumerous, sacred, shall the earth and sea
At the dread summons, faithfully resign!
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An awful pause ensuing, every heart
Throbbing with great expectance: the loud clang
Of countless trumpets shall be heard, by the breath
Of mighty angels blown, while they precede
In solemn pomp the crimson'd sign, the Cross
Triumphant, veil'd in ruddy light, and borne
By myriads of bright seraphim.—From on high,—
While the whole arch of heav'n empeopled thick
Blazes with spirits of glory:—'midst th'acclaim
Of all the heav'nly host, slow shall descend,
Seated upon a throne, like fiery flame,
Borne on a luminous cloud, the GOD, the JUDGE,
The bad man's terror, and the good man's hope!
His garment white as snow, and like pure wool
His hair: bright as a flame of fire, his eyes:
His feet, like burnish'd brass, as if they glow'd
In the red furnace: forth from which shall come
A fiery stream resplendent; while he rides
Full royally, his car, by cherubim
Upborn, whose wheels, self-mov'd, and full of eyes,
As blazing beryl glow, and burning fire.
Lo, dazzled with his lustre, darkness veils
Creation's amplest brightness: lights full source
The mid-day sun, instant before his face
Becomes as sackcloth black: the silver moon
As blood: forth from their orbs to earth down fall
The darken'd stars: even as a fig-tree casts,
Before a mighty wind, her unripe figs:
The heavens themselves astonish'd, as a scroll
Shrivel'd before the fire, shall pass away
With noise insufferable: the elements
With fervent heat dissolve: forth from their place
Trembling shall fly each island, mountain, hill:
And as the wax, before meridian Sol,
Melt at his awful presence: while the earth,
With all her works in general flame shall burn!
Throbbing with great expectance: the loud clang
Of countless trumpets shall be heard, by the breath
Of mighty angels blown, while they precede
In solemn pomp the crimson'd sign, the Cross
Triumphant, veil'd in ruddy light, and borne
By myriads of bright seraphim.—From on high,—
While the whole arch of heav'n empeopled thick
Blazes with spirits of glory:—'midst th'acclaim
Of all the heav'nly host, slow shall descend,
Seated upon a throne, like fiery flame,
Borne on a luminous cloud, the GOD, the JUDGE,
The bad man's terror, and the good man's hope!
His garment white as snow, and like pure wool
His hair: bright as a flame of fire, his eyes:
His feet, like burnish'd brass, as if they glow'd
In the red furnace: forth from which shall come
A fiery stream resplendent; while he rides
Full royally, his car, by cherubim
Upborn, whose wheels, self-mov'd, and full of eyes,
As blazing beryl glow, and burning fire.
Lo, dazzled with his lustre, darkness veils
Creation's amplest brightness: lights full source
The mid-day sun, instant before his face
Becomes as sackcloth black: the silver moon
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The darken'd stars: even as a fig-tree casts,
Before a mighty wind, her unripe figs:
The heavens themselves astonish'd, as a scroll
Shrivel'd before the fire, shall pass away
With noise insufferable: the elements
With fervent heat dissolve: forth from their place
Trembling shall fly each island, mountain, hill:
And as the wax, before meridian Sol,
Melt at his awful presence: while the earth,
With all her works in general flame shall burn!
Then, while his ample train shall fill the heaven,
While thousand thousands to him minister,
And while ten thousand times ten thousand stand
Before his awful majesty, to bear
His sov'reign mandates, or of life or death:—
The judgment set, th'impartial volumes op'd,
All secrets naked, every thought disclos'd,
Caught up into the air, before his throne
Shall stand all nations!—
While thousand thousands to him minister,
And while ten thousand times ten thousand stand
Before his awful majesty, to bear
His sov'reign mandates, or of life or death:—
The judgment set, th'impartial volumes op'd,
All secrets naked, every thought disclos'd,
Caught up into the air, before his throne
Shall stand all nations!—
There, Maria, there
Must thou and I, with all our kindred souls
The righteous sentence, the just meed of all
Our actions, the eternal doom receive,
Eternal life, eternal death!—How great!
Oh how this earth's best blessings sink in worth,
When on that scene is open'd the mind's eyes!
Where vengeance, vengeance dire, unutterable,
On those shall fiercely fall, who know not God,
Nor the blest Gospel of our sovereign Lord,
With faithful love, obey: these from his face
And from the living glory of his power,
With everlasting ruin, endless woe
Shall then be punish'd: then shall be consign'd
To bottomless perdition: and condemn'd
To dwell in hopeless horror, headlong hurl'd
Down to the flaming pit, and bound in fire
That never shall its hottest rage remit,
Be quenched never!—Oh most horrible!
Oh horrible to heart and ear!—And what
Hath earth's poor lusts and vanities most vain
To counterpoise this death eternal? What
To counterpoise the loss of that high bliss
Which now shall crown the Righteous: when their Lord
Shall come to be admired in his saints,
And glorified in each believing soul!
Must thou and I, with all our kindred souls
The righteous sentence, the just meed of all
Our actions, the eternal doom receive,
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Oh how this earth's best blessings sink in worth,
When on that scene is open'd the mind's eyes!
Where vengeance, vengeance dire, unutterable,
On those shall fiercely fall, who know not God,
Nor the blest Gospel of our sovereign Lord,
With faithful love, obey: these from his face
And from the living glory of his power,
With everlasting ruin, endless woe
Shall then be punish'd: then shall be consign'd
To bottomless perdition: and condemn'd
To dwell in hopeless horror, headlong hurl'd
Down to the flaming pit, and bound in fire
That never shall its hottest rage remit,
Be quenched never!—Oh most horrible!
Oh horrible to heart and ear!—And what
Hath earth's poor lusts and vanities most vain
To counterpoise this death eternal? What
To counterpoise the loss of that high bliss
Which now shall crown the Righteous: when their Lord
Shall come to be admired in his saints,
And glorified in each believing soul!
Oh who can paint their raptures when the voice
Of love divine shall, with mellifluous tone,
Greet their glad ears, and silence every fear
That swells the bosom 'midst that solemn scene!
“Come, O ye blessed of my Father, come,
“Come and receive the kingdom of bright bliss,
“And joy immortal for yourselves prepar'd
“Before the world's foundation: enter in
“The everlasting mansions, and rejoice
“With joy unspeakable.” At once the sound
Innumerable of all the heavenly choir
In concert sweet shall welcome the blest sons
Of immortality: voices divine
With instruments of tone celestial, tun'd
In dulcet harmony: such as, to compare
Great things with small—from the full choir resounds
Of Handel's master-strains, to the high fame
Of conquering Messiah dedicate:
The rapt heart bounds with gladness.—Crowns inwove
With amaranth and gold on every head
Shall shine resplendent: robes of radiant white
Fair beaming as the morning-star, shall glow
On each illustrious body, glorified,
And beauteous in the lustre of their God.
Palms of unfading verdure in each hand
At once shall speak their victory, and express
Their triumph everlasting: golden harps
For ever tun'd, shall glitter at their sides.
On every brow celestial peace shall smile,
And happiness unruffled; from each eye,
Sparkling with joy immortal, shall be wip'd
All tears for ever: for, the cause of tears,
Foul sin and greedy death shall be no more!
Celestial love shall every heart o'erflow,
Celestial love shall every heart inspire,
And to seraphic praise unceasing tune!—
Of love divine shall, with mellifluous tone,
Greet their glad ears, and silence every fear
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“Come, O ye blessed of my Father, come,
“Come and receive the kingdom of bright bliss,
“And joy immortal for yourselves prepar'd
“Before the world's foundation: enter in
“The everlasting mansions, and rejoice
“With joy unspeakable.” At once the sound
Innumerable of all the heavenly choir
In concert sweet shall welcome the blest sons
Of immortality: voices divine
With instruments of tone celestial, tun'd
In dulcet harmony: such as, to compare
Great things with small—from the full choir resounds
Of Handel's master-strains, to the high fame
Of conquering Messiah dedicate:
The rapt heart bounds with gladness.—Crowns inwove
With amaranth and gold on every head
Shall shine resplendent: robes of radiant white
Fair beaming as the morning-star, shall glow
On each illustrious body, glorified,
And beauteous in the lustre of their God.
Palms of unfading verdure in each hand
At once shall speak their victory, and express
Their triumph everlasting: golden harps
For ever tun'd, shall glitter at their sides.
On every brow celestial peace shall smile,
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Sparkling with joy immortal, shall be wip'd
All tears for ever: for, the cause of tears,
Foul sin and greedy death shall be no more!
Celestial love shall every heart o'erflow,
Celestial love shall every heart inspire,
And to seraphic praise unceasing tune!—
Heaven's golden vault with the melodious sound
Triumphant echoing, 'midst the sweet acclaim
Of all his host, Messiah conquering king,
—His lov'd redemed at his right hand plac'd,—
From judgment shall return; while myriads join
Of angels, and archangels, princedoms, powers,
And all the company of heav'n, to laud
His righteous judgments: while Hosannahs sound
Thro' all heaven's concave to the king of glory:
Their heads the everlasting doors shall raise,
The gates be lifted up, twelve gates of pearl,
Each wide, as to admit a banner'd host,
With all their colours flying, while the king
Of glory, the dread Lord of hosts, the son
Eternal shall come in, with all his train,
And enter that blest city! whose vast space
'Twou'd weary Time to measure; whose high walls
Glitter with living jasper; and whose streets
Are of fine gold, pure as transparent glass:
At whose twelve gates twelve mighty angels stand,
Fair as the morn, and glorious as the sun:
Forth from the throne of God, and of the Lamb,
A river, clear as crystal, issues forth,
The water of life: and gladdens with its streams
The new Jerusalem: while its fair banks
That tree of life, angelic food, produce,
That erst in Eden grew, or ere frail man
Tasted another fruit, which work'd his woe.
Here God hath fix'd his seat, here ever dwells
In glory as in blessedness supreme,
His servants worship to receive, and glad
With everlasting joy, that from him flows
In richest fulness: here behoves no temple:
God is the Temple: here no sun: for here
The Light of God, and of the glorious Lamb
For ever shines: one undiminish'd day
Without created light, reigns beauteous: love
Enlivens and illumines all with light,
Life-giving and divine.—Such is the place
Ordain'd, of boundless mercy, the abode
Eternal of blest souls: here shall they live
Imparadis'd in joy, in endless joy,
Whose names are found recorded in the book
Of life, whose foreheads with the lamb's red seal
Are mark'd: and who with him approv'd, return
From judgment all victorious! These alone—
(For nought defiling, sin, nor sinners here,
Shall ever enter,) these alone shall reign
With God for ever; and the bliss enjoy
Of his near presence, and the vision call'd
By mortals, beatific; to express
What saints in glory share; men by dim faith
Scarce apprehend: hope leads to nearer views,
And love will then consummate: when with saints
Join'd in sweet union, we shall all accord
In one high strain of praise: when we shall live,
In amity divine, with all the friends
Of our high Lord, whom sacred writ records,
And long hath to our best affections won!—
Triumphant echoing, 'midst the sweet acclaim
Of all his host, Messiah conquering king,
—His lov'd redemed at his right hand plac'd,—
From judgment shall return; while myriads join
Of angels, and archangels, princedoms, powers,
And all the company of heav'n, to laud
His righteous judgments: while Hosannahs sound
Thro' all heaven's concave to the king of glory:
Their heads the everlasting doors shall raise,
The gates be lifted up, twelve gates of pearl,
Each wide, as to admit a banner'd host,
With all their colours flying, while the king
Of glory, the dread Lord of hosts, the son
Eternal shall come in, with all his train,
And enter that blest city! whose vast space
'Twou'd weary Time to measure; whose high walls
Glitter with living jasper; and whose streets
13
At whose twelve gates twelve mighty angels stand,
Fair as the morn, and glorious as the sun:
Forth from the throne of God, and of the Lamb,
A river, clear as crystal, issues forth,
The water of life: and gladdens with its streams
The new Jerusalem: while its fair banks
That tree of life, angelic food, produce,
That erst in Eden grew, or ere frail man
Tasted another fruit, which work'd his woe.
Here God hath fix'd his seat, here ever dwells
In glory as in blessedness supreme,
His servants worship to receive, and glad
With everlasting joy, that from him flows
In richest fulness: here behoves no temple:
God is the Temple: here no sun: for here
The Light of God, and of the glorious Lamb
For ever shines: one undiminish'd day
Without created light, reigns beauteous: love
Enlivens and illumines all with light,
Life-giving and divine.—Such is the place
Ordain'd, of boundless mercy, the abode
Eternal of blest souls: here shall they live
Imparadis'd in joy, in endless joy,
Whose names are found recorded in the book
Of life, whose foreheads with the lamb's red seal
14
From judgment all victorious! These alone—
(For nought defiling, sin, nor sinners here,
Shall ever enter,) these alone shall reign
With God for ever; and the bliss enjoy
Of his near presence, and the vision call'd
By mortals, beatific; to express
What saints in glory share; men by dim faith
Scarce apprehend: hope leads to nearer views,
And love will then consummate: when with saints
Join'd in sweet union, we shall all accord
In one high strain of praise: when we shall live,
In amity divine, with all the friends
Of our high Lord, whom sacred writ records,
And long hath to our best affections won!—
And there—oh pleasing recollection—there
Our dearest friends, by death relentless torn
From our embraces, joyful shall we meet,
Immortal meet, to part no more!—The hope,
Oh ye beloved Authors of my birth,
Ye best of Parents, who, 'midst torments fierce
And cruel anguish, in my arms expir'd;
The mournful office, while my trembling hands
Of closing your dear eyes perform'd—that hope,
That balmy hope sooths my sad soul, and dries
The silent tear, that frequent from my eye
Drops mournful on remembrance of your love:
That love, which o'er me from the cradle watch'd
To manhood's dawn: sollicitous and fond:
—Ah, who but parents ought can paint the pangs
Heart-felt, that in the anxious parent's breast
Throb for its darling offspring? Thence be taught
Duteous regard, ye children, and return
Grateful the tender love!—But earthly love
How poor, how short! in those celestial realms
Nor end, nor mixture shall be known. Alas,
How unsupportable the load of woe,
Without fair immortality's bright hope!
How light all earthly sufferings, when the soul
Disdains the grave, and carries its bold eye,
Directed by strong faith into the realms
Of light and love eternal?—There, oh there,
Grant us, thou God benign, Lover of Souls,
By the red blood, that from thy sacred wounds
Flow'd liberal for man: oh grant us there
To meet in bliss, and my transported soul
Then fully, thrice blest Parents, shall express
The debt of love I owe: which grateful thus
I strive to speak in melancholy song
Befitting lowly mortal: Earnest small
Of future offerings, when on golden harps
Together we shall chaunt immortal songs,
Immortal made; and ravish'd with the joy,
Fulness of joy, and pleasures evermore
At the right hand of God!—
Our dearest friends, by death relentless torn
From our embraces, joyful shall we meet,
Immortal meet, to part no more!—The hope,
Oh ye beloved Authors of my birth,
Ye best of Parents, who, 'midst torments fierce
And cruel anguish, in my arms expir'd;
The mournful office, while my trembling hands
Of closing your dear eyes perform'd—that hope,
That balmy hope sooths my sad soul, and dries
15
Drops mournful on remembrance of your love:
That love, which o'er me from the cradle watch'd
To manhood's dawn: sollicitous and fond:
—Ah, who but parents ought can paint the pangs
Heart-felt, that in the anxious parent's breast
Throb for its darling offspring? Thence be taught
Duteous regard, ye children, and return
Grateful the tender love!—But earthly love
How poor, how short! in those celestial realms
Nor end, nor mixture shall be known. Alas,
How unsupportable the load of woe,
Without fair immortality's bright hope!
How light all earthly sufferings, when the soul
Disdains the grave, and carries its bold eye,
Directed by strong faith into the realms
Of light and love eternal?—There, oh there,
Grant us, thou God benign, Lover of Souls,
By the red blood, that from thy sacred wounds
Flow'd liberal for man: oh grant us there
To meet in bliss, and my transported soul
Then fully, thrice blest Parents, shall express
The debt of love I owe: which grateful thus
I strive to speak in melancholy song
Befitting lowly mortal: Earnest small
Of future offerings, when on golden harps
16
Immortal made; and ravish'd with the joy,
Fulness of joy, and pleasures evermore
At the right hand of God!—
Pardon, dread Lord,
If ought too much presumptuous, or too high
In hope,—thee I offend! Thy sacred word
And promises divine forbid to Faith
The glimmering of doubt. Yet when I view
Myself unworthy and offending still
Thy goodness infinite, methinks 'tis bold
At all to hope.—But not on ME depends
Acceptance final: Thou wilt not refuse
The lowly soul that builds on Jesu's Love!—
Smit by that hallow'd love, my muse, ere while
To mortal passions dedicate, foreswore
Th'adulterous service, and itself resign'd
To thee its rightful Lord! Oh that my strains,
How weak soe'er, might to thy praise redound,
And join in universal nature's choir,
To hymn thee general Lord!—Warm'd with that wish,
Tho' faintly, thus I strive to lisp low thoughts,
Low are the highest mortal tongues express,
When everlasting love becomes their theme;
And such is mine: thine everlasting love
Bright shining on that great Epiphany,
When, all thy mighty majesty display'd,
We shall behold—behold Thee, as thou art;
And, at the Vision gloriously transform'd,
Be made—who can conceive the Greatness?—made
Like THEE!
If ought too much presumptuous, or too high
In hope,—thee I offend! Thy sacred word
And promises divine forbid to Faith
The glimmering of doubt. Yet when I view
Myself unworthy and offending still
Thy goodness infinite, methinks 'tis bold
At all to hope.—But not on ME depends
Acceptance final: Thou wilt not refuse
The lowly soul that builds on Jesu's Love!—
Smit by that hallow'd love, my muse, ere while
To mortal passions dedicate, foreswore
Th'adulterous service, and itself resign'd
To thee its rightful Lord! Oh that my strains,
How weak soe'er, might to thy praise redound,
And join in universal nature's choir,
To hymn thee general Lord!—Warm'd with that wish,
Tho' faintly, thus I strive to lisp low thoughts,
Low are the highest mortal tongues express,
When everlasting love becomes their theme;
And such is mine: thine everlasting love
17
When, all thy mighty majesty display'd,
We shall behold—behold Thee, as thou art;
And, at the Vision gloriously transform'd,
Be made—who can conceive the Greatness?—made
Like THEE!
Were it not strange, Maria, then to dread
A day so fraught with blessings, so replete
With good to man? to dread a change that brings
Immortal glory?—Dreads the Mariner,
Who, tost long time upon the ocean wild,
Sails many a weary league from the dry coast
Of Malabar or Bengala, waging long
Unequal war with tempests, rocks, and waves,
That well nigh have their way thro' the leak'd hull
Of his shock'd vessel made—dreads he the port
Friendly that brings him to his native soil,
To the lov'd bosom of his faithful wife,
And dear caresses of his infant race,
Climbing with fondling joy his happy knees,
And lisping their pleas'd stories: his big heart
Swells with exstatic rapture: while a tear
Of silent joy unbidden steals adown
His sun-burnt cheeks.—Or didst thou dread that day,
Say, my Maria, which return'd me, long
Long absent, long expected to thy arms
And bridal bed, thence sever'd by hard fate
Just in the blossom of those nuptial joys,
That since have into fulness spread, and cheer'd
With undiminish'd sweetness?—Rather say,
Did'st thou not number every lagging hour
With fond impatience, and the minutes blame
Too tedious in their course, till on thy sight,
Fair solace of my soul, thy bridegroom rose
Transported: bliss too big for utterance rode
On our hearts pants triumphing!—Dread we then,
Oh strange, the Bridegroom of our souls return,
Whose love stronger than death, no mortal flame
Can ought resemble? dread we then the port,
That to the haven of eternal rest
Our shipwreckt vessel brings?—Wherefore not long,
Wherefore not look with expectation fond,
And passion all-inflam'd, for that great day
Of Jesu's coming: and the blissful hour
That to our Bridegroom's everlasting arms,
And nuptials all-consummate shall admit
Our souls delighted?—King of terrors, Death,
Thou art man's dread: How doth thy leaden dart,
Oh mighty Conqueror, with cold horror pierce
The heart benumb'd: make the chill blood stand still,
And course no longer thro' the purple veins
And allies of the body: while the pulse,
Life's centinel, retiring from its watch,
Gives notice of departing life: while steals
O'er the dark eye-balls misty night; and stiff
The limbs, so glowing late, freeze into clay
Food for the darksom grave!
A day so fraught with blessings, so replete
With good to man? to dread a change that brings
Immortal glory?—Dreads the Mariner,
Who, tost long time upon the ocean wild,
Sails many a weary league from the dry coast
Of Malabar or Bengala, waging long
Unequal war with tempests, rocks, and waves,
That well nigh have their way thro' the leak'd hull
Of his shock'd vessel made—dreads he the port
Friendly that brings him to his native soil,
To the lov'd bosom of his faithful wife,
And dear caresses of his infant race,
Climbing with fondling joy his happy knees,
And lisping their pleas'd stories: his big heart
Swells with exstatic rapture: while a tear
Of silent joy unbidden steals adown
His sun-burnt cheeks.—Or didst thou dread that day,
Say, my Maria, which return'd me, long
18
And bridal bed, thence sever'd by hard fate
Just in the blossom of those nuptial joys,
That since have into fulness spread, and cheer'd
With undiminish'd sweetness?—Rather say,
Did'st thou not number every lagging hour
With fond impatience, and the minutes blame
Too tedious in their course, till on thy sight,
Fair solace of my soul, thy bridegroom rose
Transported: bliss too big for utterance rode
On our hearts pants triumphing!—Dread we then,
Oh strange, the Bridegroom of our souls return,
Whose love stronger than death, no mortal flame
Can ought resemble? dread we then the port,
That to the haven of eternal rest
Our shipwreckt vessel brings?—Wherefore not long,
Wherefore not look with expectation fond,
And passion all-inflam'd, for that great day
Of Jesu's coming: and the blissful hour
That to our Bridegroom's everlasting arms,
And nuptials all-consummate shall admit
Our souls delighted?—King of terrors, Death,
Thou art man's dread: How doth thy leaden dart,
Oh mighty Conqueror, with cold horror pierce
The heart benumb'd: make the chill blood stand still,
And course no longer thro' the purple veins
19
Life's centinel, retiring from its watch,
Gives notice of departing life: while steals
O'er the dark eye-balls misty night; and stiff
The limbs, so glowing late, freeze into clay
Food for the darksom grave!
Yet wherefore fear,
What needs we must encounter? Wherefore fear
A foe whom none can shun; whose stroke, tho' dread,
Of force but momentary , sends the soul
From the dark prison of an earthly cot
To palace of celestial mould!—Who flies
Adventure dangerous, and perils vast
To gain renowned meed?—What lover fears
The long dark cavern, that conducts his steps
Lonely, beneath the bowels of the earth,
To the fair bosom of his secret spouse,
Wedded and won: yet not for some hard hap,
Or parents frown, or fortune all-unmeet,
Acknowledg'd and avow'd?—Old stories tell
That erst Leander, warm'd with the generous love
Of beauteous Hero, dreaded nought to dare
Nightly the swelling waves; and with bold stroke
Forc'd thro' rough ocean his fond way, while led
By friendly light from her fair hand, whose touch
Repay'd the glad adventurer. Of love
Such the commanding power! —So did we love
The Bridegroom of our souls, who forth from heav'n
Hath hung his words sure light, safe to conduct
Our path unerring: gloomy death's deep waves
Nought should we dread, nor fear the monster's dart
More than the faithful youth the kindly wave
That bore him to his love?—But ah, that wave
Who without love could dare? Death's sting most sharp
Is Sin: and sin, rebellious sin, is want
Of love alone: where Jesus holds the sway
Victorious in the heart, all other loves
Hide their diminish'd heads: and the rank train
Of bestial, devilish passions 'fore him fly,
As, 'fore his great exemplar, morning light,
Foul darkness, with her murderers bath'd in blood,
Muffled adulterers, thieves that love the shade,
Spirits of night, that walk the earth; and beasts
That to their dark caves haste, growling at day,
And hide them from the Sun.—Oh the cold love
Of our degenerate hearts, in these last days;
How senseless of thy beauty, of thy love,
Thy matchless beauty, love unspeakable,
Thou altogether lovely!—Hence how dread
To our imaginations pale with fear,
The thoughts of death! Men shiver at the name!
His terror makes cold cowards of us all:
Nor they, whose trade is death, are from the fear,
—Oh shame—exempt! And whence this fear?—Ah, look
How every love, how every lust can lead
Men's hearts its willing captive; how they doat
On shadows vain, and triflingly pursue
Bubbles, that burst and lose their colour'd rings,
Or ere the delicate breath breathes on them!—Look,
How every love, but love divine leads on
Its potent multitudes, that flutter round
The shadow vain of unsubstantial joys:
As gaudy butterflies, that lightly spread
Their painted down, and skim from flower to flower
Of momentary stay: or as the moth
That foolish plays around the dazzling flame,
Till in the fatal circle caught, it drops,
And woe and wisdom learns at once,—too late!
Look, how compliant with the world's fell lore,
To fashion slaves, and in strong custom's chain
Bound; with the multitude what numbers rush
Precipitate to pay their civil court
At vice, or folly's temple: tho' recoils
Their better reason, and their soberer sense
The rank idolatry disclaims.—Ah look
At these, innumerable; and doubt no more,
Whence comes death's dread, and judgment's trembling fear.
What needs we must encounter? Wherefore fear
A foe whom none can shun; whose stroke, tho' dread,
Of force but momentary , sends the soul
From the dark prison of an earthly cot
To palace of celestial mould!—Who flies
Adventure dangerous, and perils vast
To gain renowned meed?—What lover fears
The long dark cavern, that conducts his steps
Lonely, beneath the bowels of the earth,
To the fair bosom of his secret spouse,
Wedded and won: yet not for some hard hap,
Or parents frown, or fortune all-unmeet,
Acknowledg'd and avow'd?—Old stories tell
20
Of beauteous Hero, dreaded nought to dare
Nightly the swelling waves; and with bold stroke
Forc'd thro' rough ocean his fond way, while led
By friendly light from her fair hand, whose touch
Repay'd the glad adventurer. Of love
Such the commanding power! —So did we love
The Bridegroom of our souls, who forth from heav'n
Hath hung his words sure light, safe to conduct
Our path unerring: gloomy death's deep waves
Nought should we dread, nor fear the monster's dart
More than the faithful youth the kindly wave
That bore him to his love?—But ah, that wave
Who without love could dare? Death's sting most sharp
Is Sin: and sin, rebellious sin, is want
Of love alone: where Jesus holds the sway
Victorious in the heart, all other loves
Hide their diminish'd heads: and the rank train
Of bestial, devilish passions 'fore him fly,
As, 'fore his great exemplar, morning light,
Foul darkness, with her murderers bath'd in blood,
Muffled adulterers, thieves that love the shade,
Spirits of night, that walk the earth; and beasts
That to their dark caves haste, growling at day,
And hide them from the Sun.—Oh the cold love
21
How senseless of thy beauty, of thy love,
Thy matchless beauty, love unspeakable,
Thou altogether lovely!—Hence how dread
To our imaginations pale with fear,
The thoughts of death! Men shiver at the name!
His terror makes cold cowards of us all:
Nor they, whose trade is death, are from the fear,
—Oh shame—exempt! And whence this fear?—Ah, look
How every love, how every lust can lead
Men's hearts its willing captive; how they doat
On shadows vain, and triflingly pursue
Bubbles, that burst and lose their colour'd rings,
Or ere the delicate breath breathes on them!—Look,
How every love, but love divine leads on
Its potent multitudes, that flutter round
The shadow vain of unsubstantial joys:
As gaudy butterflies, that lightly spread
Their painted down, and skim from flower to flower
Of momentary stay: or as the moth
That foolish plays around the dazzling flame,
Till in the fatal circle caught, it drops,
And woe and wisdom learns at once,—too late!
Look, how compliant with the world's fell lore,
To fashion slaves, and in strong custom's chain
Bound; with the multitude what numbers rush
22
At vice, or folly's temple: tho' recoils
Their better reason, and their soberer sense
The rank idolatry disclaims.—Ah look
At these, innumerable; and doubt no more,
Whence comes death's dread, and judgment's trembling fear.
On men's brows wonder sits, to hear the fond
The tale enthusiastic, that there were—
Oh that their numbers yet were found!) there were
Who welcom'd death more warmly than the bride
Her faithful bridegroom: and the lov'd approach
Of their Immanuel in the clouds desir'd
With expectations more awake, than thine,
Oh soul of avarice, Carpus, hov'ring o'er
The rent-roll wish'd of some estate immense,
By thy insatiate usury well nigh
Devour'd from spend-thrift heir!—Look, christians, look,
—If Christians rightly call'd, who never fight,
Tho' with the red cross mark'd upon your brows,
Beneath the crimson'd banner of your God,
Against foul sin, proud Satan, and the world,
Deceitful and deceiv'd:—befits not then
The name, Deserters, rather?—Yet to call,
If haply the remembrance may inspire
With penitent shame well-pleasing, back to call
To the victorious sign of grace and peace,
Look at the noble champions who have wag'd
Full well the glorious war!—See in the Van,
Amidst the chosen leaders, toilsome Paul,
Loaden with victories, in triumphant sort
Wishing to be dissolv'd, and be with Christ!
While, in faith's full assurance, he declares,
“The time of my departure is at hand,
“And ready am I now to be pour'd forth
“As a libation sweet, unto my God!
“And pleasing the reflection! I have fought
“And constantly maintain'd the noble fight:
“I've run the course complete: have kept the faith:
“Henceforth of righteousness the golden crown
“Is laid up for me: the immortal crown,
“Which at that day, the Lord, the righteous judge
“Will give to ME!—Yet not to Me alone,
“But to all those, that his appearing Love.”
The tale enthusiastic, that there were—
Oh that their numbers yet were found!) there were
Who welcom'd death more warmly than the bride
Her faithful bridegroom: and the lov'd approach
Of their Immanuel in the clouds desir'd
With expectations more awake, than thine,
Oh soul of avarice, Carpus, hov'ring o'er
The rent-roll wish'd of some estate immense,
By thy insatiate usury well nigh
Devour'd from spend-thrift heir!—Look, christians, look,
—If Christians rightly call'd, who never fight,
Tho' with the red cross mark'd upon your brows,
Beneath the crimson'd banner of your God,
Against foul sin, proud Satan, and the world,
Deceitful and deceiv'd:—befits not then
The name, Deserters, rather?—Yet to call,
If haply the remembrance may inspire
With penitent shame well-pleasing, back to call
23
Look at the noble champions who have wag'd
Full well the glorious war!—See in the Van,
Amidst the chosen leaders, toilsome Paul,
Loaden with victories, in triumphant sort
Wishing to be dissolv'd, and be with Christ!
While, in faith's full assurance, he declares,
“The time of my departure is at hand,
“And ready am I now to be pour'd forth
“As a libation sweet, unto my God!
“And pleasing the reflection! I have fought
“And constantly maintain'd the noble fight:
“I've run the course complete: have kept the faith:
“Henceforth of righteousness the golden crown
“Is laid up for me: the immortal crown,
“Which at that day, the Lord, the righteous judge
“Will give to ME!—Yet not to Me alone,
“But to all those, that his appearing Love.”
And such are they, that glorious file led on
By Stephen, proto-martyr, whose blest hands
Unfurl from standard high, the flaming flag,
Beneath whose banner these have nobly fought
And dy'd their robes in blood! Oh how they long'd,
With ardent joy,—how constantly they scorn'd
Nay sought, nay welcom'd, flames, wild-beasts, and racks,
With all the cruel wantonness of death
Devis'd by tyrants persecuting rage:
And wearied out with patience all-divine
Invention's subtlest tortures: faithful found,
Found faithful unto death!—Hail, glorious throng,
Of Martyrs noble army! ever hail!
High testimony have ye borne to Jesu's truth,
And Jesu's love consummate. Be your crowns
Bright with superior lustre!—Well ye deem'd
Those happy, who obtain'd on earth such grace,
Favour'd so highly, as to shed their blood,
In the Redeemer's cause! well could my soul,
(If envy ought permitted to allow—)
Envy your choice felicity: and sure
If envy e'er were lawful, it were here.
By Stephen, proto-martyr, whose blest hands
Unfurl from standard high, the flaming flag,
Beneath whose banner these have nobly fought
And dy'd their robes in blood! Oh how they long'd,
With ardent joy,—how constantly they scorn'd
Nay sought, nay welcom'd, flames, wild-beasts, and racks,
24
Devis'd by tyrants persecuting rage:
And wearied out with patience all-divine
Invention's subtlest tortures: faithful found,
Found faithful unto death!—Hail, glorious throng,
Of Martyrs noble army! ever hail!
High testimony have ye borne to Jesu's truth,
And Jesu's love consummate. Be your crowns
Bright with superior lustre!—Well ye deem'd
Those happy, who obtain'd on earth such grace,
Favour'd so highly, as to shed their blood,
In the Redeemer's cause! well could my soul,
(If envy ought permitted to allow—)
Envy your choice felicity: and sure
If envy e'er were lawful, it were here.
Yet 'midst the radiant troop, it glads my heart,
A squadron to behold of port divine
From my lov'd country. Faithful Ridley, hail,
Truths strenuous champion: with that soldier bold
Of men regardless, Latimer, to flames
Jocund, as to a bridal bed, who hied:
Hail, all-laborious Cranmer, soul of love—
Well did thy dauntless courage expiate
Thy right hand's fault: while unappall'd thou stood'st,
And gav'st th'offender to consuming fire!
Thou never knew'st resentment to thy foe,
Yet spared not, with indignation just,
Thy tenderest flesh! First of Reformers, hail,
And chief of British Martyrs! Well my song
Could be content, thy praises to record
With all the countless multitude, that throngs
From Britain's shore! whose names live here embalm'd
In faithful memory, in the book of life
Recorded live for ever!—Yet the meed
Of my poor verse, blest worthies, but ill suits
Your praises high:—Oh might our towering hopes
Rise into emulation, while we view
The lustre of your deeds:—Rise from our death
And sleep supine, struck with the mighty love
Of that eternal captain, who led on
Your souls, thro' opposition perilous,
To victory immortal!
A squadron to behold of port divine
From my lov'd country. Faithful Ridley, hail,
Truths strenuous champion: with that soldier bold
Of men regardless, Latimer, to flames
Jocund, as to a bridal bed, who hied:
Hail, all-laborious Cranmer, soul of love—
Well did thy dauntless courage expiate
Thy right hand's fault: while unappall'd thou stood'st,
And gav'st th'offender to consuming fire!
25
Yet spared not, with indignation just,
Thy tenderest flesh! First of Reformers, hail,
And chief of British Martyrs! Well my song
Could be content, thy praises to record
With all the countless multitude, that throngs
From Britain's shore! whose names live here embalm'd
In faithful memory, in the book of life
Recorded live for ever!—Yet the meed
Of my poor verse, blest worthies, but ill suits
Your praises high:—Oh might our towering hopes
Rise into emulation, while we view
The lustre of your deeds:—Rise from our death
And sleep supine, struck with the mighty love
Of that eternal captain, who led on
Your souls, thro' opposition perilous,
To victory immortal!
Yet to truth,
At once, and friendship, let my song be just;
Nor thou, my friend, above the reach of praise,
Crown'd in the realms of bliss, can ought suspect,
Of flattery my song.—Yes, Jesus, yes,
In these degenerate days, thy glowing love
Found in L***'s heart a welcome seat;
There burnt with all its purity divine,
And fill'd her bosom with the courage bold
Of Confessors undaunted, and the zeal
Of suffering Martyrs: ah, too early snatch'd,
Fair flower from this our globe: humbly we own
The chastisement divine! yet tho' compell'd
To weep our own sad loss, thy mighty gain
Bids us rejoice for thee! Thy course is run,
And now the end of all thy wishes gain'd,
With him: thou ever liv'st, for whose dear sake,
To live and die on earth was all thy care!
—Our warfare yet remains: and still we fight,
Tho' faintly, our grand foes: oh may the hope
Of meeting henceforth in the realms of joy,
Our courage animate, and lead us on
All-manfully, beneath the banner wide
Of Jesus, conqueror, to maintain the fight,
Against the subtle legions of the prince
Of darkness horrible: against the force
Of an opposing world; and the foul wiles
Of the deceitful flesh.—Fruitless those wiles,
Those Legions impotent to storm the soul
Secure in Christ! Look, how its towering head
Aloft to heav'n the stately cedar rears,
On the high mountains brow: nor deigns to stoop
Amidst the loudest clamours of the winds
Eurus and Auster, and the boisterous north,
Roaring with indignation vain around
Its princely trunk!—So midst temptations rage
Resolv'd, unmov'd, the steadfast Christian stands
Rooted in Jesu's Love! But that firm Love,
The love of his appearing, with the crown,
Of righteousness eternal, and the hope
Of living ever with our fellow Saints,
In amity unshaken, can alone
Inspire that resolution, and the faith
Which to the end undaunted perseveres;
As cloud-capt Teneriff, fixt, and unremov'd!
At once, and friendship, let my song be just;
Nor thou, my friend, above the reach of praise,
26
Of flattery my song.—Yes, Jesus, yes,
In these degenerate days, thy glowing love
Found in L***'s heart a welcome seat;
There burnt with all its purity divine,
And fill'd her bosom with the courage bold
Of Confessors undaunted, and the zeal
Of suffering Martyrs: ah, too early snatch'd,
Fair flower from this our globe: humbly we own
The chastisement divine! yet tho' compell'd
To weep our own sad loss, thy mighty gain
Bids us rejoice for thee! Thy course is run,
And now the end of all thy wishes gain'd,
With him: thou ever liv'st, for whose dear sake,
To live and die on earth was all thy care!
—Our warfare yet remains: and still we fight,
Tho' faintly, our grand foes: oh may the hope
Of meeting henceforth in the realms of joy,
Our courage animate, and lead us on
All-manfully, beneath the banner wide
Of Jesus, conqueror, to maintain the fight,
Against the subtle legions of the prince
Of darkness horrible: against the force
Of an opposing world; and the foul wiles
Of the deceitful flesh.—Fruitless those wiles,
Those Legions impotent to storm the soul
27
Aloft to heav'n the stately cedar rears,
On the high mountains brow: nor deigns to stoop
Amidst the loudest clamours of the winds
Eurus and Auster, and the boisterous north,
Roaring with indignation vain around
Its princely trunk!—So midst temptations rage
Resolv'd, unmov'd, the steadfast Christian stands
Rooted in Jesu's Love! But that firm Love,
The love of his appearing, with the crown,
Of righteousness eternal, and the hope
Of living ever with our fellow Saints,
In amity unshaken, can alone
Inspire that resolution, and the faith
Which to the end undaunted perseveres;
As cloud-capt Teneriff, fixt, and unremov'd!
And who but loves that coming, who but longs
With anxious hope, that in his bosom bears,
A heart ought glowing with his Saviour's love?
And what heart glows not with that Saviour's love,
Who views him on dread Calvary expos'd
In naked anguish for the sins of men!
Who longs not to behold this man of grief
Assuming all his glory: to behold
The mock'd redeemer: his immortal brows
Crown'd with far other diadem, than erst
On Earth he wore; who longs not to behold
His Saviour o'er his foes, o'er Death and Hell
Triumphant ride, and judge the subject world!
Ah, Pilate, then far other will he seem
To thee all-trembling, than the man of woe
Presented to the Jews, with blood defil'd,
And plough'd his back with scourges! Other, far,
Oh Caiaphas, than that blasphemer deem'd,
Thou did'st to death adjudge! His lucent robe
And golden sceptre will evince him now,
Oh Herod, to thy shame far other king
Than thou supposedst, when in impious sort
Amidst thy revel-rout of soldiers rude
Thou cloathedst him, in Jewry, with a robe
Of splendid mockery!—Other will he seem,
Far other, oh ye unbelieving tribe,
Than that revil'd impostor, whom ye treat,
Proud reptiles, with the insolence of scorn,
And his pure laws defy: his judgment dread
And indignation just well may ye wish,
How fruitless,—at that moment,—to defy!
Then, combatants so doughty,—who, in house
Of flesh, here while on heavenly loan you live,
Dare in rebellion base wage impious war
Against your Father, Saviour, and your God.—
Then will ye feel your wretched impotence:
Too late: ah, that ye now were wise, now felt
That impotence, all lowly!—Other far,
Ye faithful found, try'd servants of your Lord—
Will all his beaming beauties, and his love,
Transcendently divine glow on your eyes,
And fill your ravish'd hearts, far other, than
Your souls warm wishes fancy, or your thoughts
By brightest faith illumin'd, dare conceive!
—The wonders who can reach? Who but desires
With ardent love those wonders to behold,
And see the royal Solomon enthron'd
In everlasting glory?—But to share
Copartners in that glory!—Deem we not
The season long, till the glad hour arrives
Of blissful consummation? Deem we not
The season long, till with enraptur'd sight,
Our Nature high exalted, 'bove all praise,
In lustre and perfection, we behold
Dazzling and eminent: from the stains of sin,
From weakness and corruption, and from Death,
Eternally set free; this mortal cloath'd
With immortality: these bodies vile,
Sprung from the grave, in heavenly beauty deck'd
And like the glorious body of their Lord
Fashion'd by his divine transforming power:
So from the homely seed to faithful soil
Entrusted, fresh and fair a vernant plant
Springs beauteous, quickened from its dying state
By rains prolific, and the genial force
Of vivifying light: bearing aloft
Its flowery head, in fragrant sweetness rich,
Far other than its seed, and yet the same!
—Then shall our souls be perfected in love;
All doubtings cease, all languor be away,
And our hearts flame, with undiminish'd heat,
Burn even on, thro' endless ages burn,
Supported by the everlasting light
Of God's near presence!—Then shall we receive
The crown immortal: enter then the realms
Of love eternal: then for ever live
In happiness unfading: with the joys
That flow from God's right hand in plenteous streams,
Still satiate and still thirsting: 'midst the choirs
Of Saints and Angels, ceaselesly employ'd
To hymn eternal love: in converse sweet,
With spirits divine on all Jehovah's works
And wonders, passing wonder, on our view
In all their greatness rising, still employ'd
And finding still fresh subjects to employ!
—Oh state of joy consummate where one day
Of perfect peace shall reign—How longs my soul
To enter on thy gladness! How my heart
Longs, Jesu, for thy coming! to set free
Th'imprison'd pilgrim from frail flesh and sin,
From evil and from death, to wing her way,
Her joyful way, to liberty and Thee!
With anxious hope, that in his bosom bears,
A heart ought glowing with his Saviour's love?
And what heart glows not with that Saviour's love,
Who views him on dread Calvary expos'd
In naked anguish for the sins of men!
Who longs not to behold this man of grief
Assuming all his glory: to behold
The mock'd redeemer: his immortal brows
28
On Earth he wore; who longs not to behold
His Saviour o'er his foes, o'er Death and Hell
Triumphant ride, and judge the subject world!
Ah, Pilate, then far other will he seem
To thee all-trembling, than the man of woe
Presented to the Jews, with blood defil'd,
And plough'd his back with scourges! Other, far,
Oh Caiaphas, than that blasphemer deem'd,
Thou did'st to death adjudge! His lucent robe
And golden sceptre will evince him now,
Oh Herod, to thy shame far other king
Than thou supposedst, when in impious sort
Amidst thy revel-rout of soldiers rude
Thou cloathedst him, in Jewry, with a robe
Of splendid mockery!—Other will he seem,
Far other, oh ye unbelieving tribe,
Than that revil'd impostor, whom ye treat,
Proud reptiles, with the insolence of scorn,
And his pure laws defy: his judgment dread
And indignation just well may ye wish,
How fruitless,—at that moment,—to defy!
Then, combatants so doughty,—who, in house
Of flesh, here while on heavenly loan you live,
Dare in rebellion base wage impious war
Against your Father, Saviour, and your God.—
29
Too late: ah, that ye now were wise, now felt
That impotence, all lowly!—Other far,
Ye faithful found, try'd servants of your Lord—
Will all his beaming beauties, and his love,
Transcendently divine glow on your eyes,
And fill your ravish'd hearts, far other, than
Your souls warm wishes fancy, or your thoughts
By brightest faith illumin'd, dare conceive!
—The wonders who can reach? Who but desires
With ardent love those wonders to behold,
And see the royal Solomon enthron'd
In everlasting glory?—But to share
Copartners in that glory!—Deem we not
The season long, till the glad hour arrives
Of blissful consummation? Deem we not
The season long, till with enraptur'd sight,
Our Nature high exalted, 'bove all praise,
In lustre and perfection, we behold
Dazzling and eminent: from the stains of sin,
From weakness and corruption, and from Death,
Eternally set free; this mortal cloath'd
With immortality: these bodies vile,
Sprung from the grave, in heavenly beauty deck'd
And like the glorious body of their Lord
Fashion'd by his divine transforming power:
30
Entrusted, fresh and fair a vernant plant
Springs beauteous, quickened from its dying state
By rains prolific, and the genial force
Of vivifying light: bearing aloft
Its flowery head, in fragrant sweetness rich,
Far other than its seed, and yet the same!
—Then shall our souls be perfected in love;
All doubtings cease, all languor be away,
And our hearts flame, with undiminish'd heat,
Burn even on, thro' endless ages burn,
Supported by the everlasting light
Of God's near presence!—Then shall we receive
The crown immortal: enter then the realms
Of love eternal: then for ever live
In happiness unfading: with the joys
That flow from God's right hand in plenteous streams,
Still satiate and still thirsting: 'midst the choirs
Of Saints and Angels, ceaselesly employ'd
To hymn eternal love: in converse sweet,
With spirits divine on all Jehovah's works
And wonders, passing wonder, on our view
In all their greatness rising, still employ'd
And finding still fresh subjects to employ!
—Oh state of joy consummate where one day
Of perfect peace shall reign—How longs my soul
31
Longs, Jesu, for thy coming! to set free
Th'imprison'd pilgrim from frail flesh and sin,
From evil and from death, to wing her way,
Her joyful way, to liberty and Thee!
As by the pirate hand of Paynim fierce,
Scouring the seas for prey, a captive caught,
And in deep dungeon, dark, and dank confin'd,
On scanty offals fed, from the fair light
Of chearful day cut off; with the sore weight
Of irksome iron wearied: while each hour
Is lengthen'd with the apprehensions dire
Of tortures manifold: as longs the soul
Of captive so forlorn, on the safe shore
Of his lov'd Britain once to stand, and taste
The sweets of golden freedom, who hath built
Her towering airy on the top-most bough,
In his high-favour'd island!—So to stand
On his celestial free, fair country's shore,
Earnest should each imprison'd soul desire;
Thus from foul sin and Satan's durance, long
For liberty consummate: ardent thus
For the divine deliverer's coming wait,
And pant for his wish'd rescue!—But can they
Their chains who love, that rescue prize, or wish?—
Scouring the seas for prey, a captive caught,
And in deep dungeon, dark, and dank confin'd,
On scanty offals fed, from the fair light
Of chearful day cut off; with the sore weight
Of irksome iron wearied: while each hour
Is lengthen'd with the apprehensions dire
Of tortures manifold: as longs the soul
Of captive so forlorn, on the safe shore
Of his lov'd Britain once to stand, and taste
The sweets of golden freedom, who hath built
Her towering airy on the top-most bough,
In his high-favour'd island!—So to stand
On his celestial free, fair country's shore,
Earnest should each imprison'd soul desire;
Thus from foul sin and Satan's durance, long
For liberty consummate: ardent thus
For the divine deliverer's coming wait,
And pant for his wish'd rescue!—But can they
Their chains who love, that rescue prize, or wish?—
32
Sin's captives, her too willing slaves, not wish,
But hapless dread that coming! and enslav'd
To sin, who gives to death his pointed dart
And arms with all his terror,—ah, how dire
Th'approach of that stern tyrant!—Jesu's love
The poison'd dart extracting, and the wounds
Heal'd by the sovereign balsam of his blood
All precious: fresh and fair the soul revives,
And, as the wither'd plant by waters fed,
Blooms into Life.—Oh, sinner, would'st thou shun
Of death at once, the wages and the woe,
Death everlasting, everlasting pain,
Fly to this saving love: haste for thy life
To this sole city of refuge, from the hand
Of blood's avenger. On the altar's horns
Lay hold, poor criminal, and plead for life,
Plead with pathetic force, and violence
Well-pleasing to thy God: plead as undone,
As lost, condemn'd, eternally condemn'd,
Cry, cry aloud for mercy,—mercy, Lord,
And life for a lost soul! Prayer's arrow drawn
Down to the head by nervous penitence
On meek humility's compliant string,
Wings to the destin'd mark its certain way,
And ne'er was shot in vain! Thrice happy he,
Of whom it can be said, “Behold he prayeth.”
Prayer is the soul's desire pour'd forth to God,
And cannot but obtain the Grace desir'd,
Which only to desire is to have.
But hapless dread that coming! and enslav'd
To sin, who gives to death his pointed dart
And arms with all his terror,—ah, how dire
Th'approach of that stern tyrant!—Jesu's love
The poison'd dart extracting, and the wounds
Heal'd by the sovereign balsam of his blood
All precious: fresh and fair the soul revives,
And, as the wither'd plant by waters fed,
Blooms into Life.—Oh, sinner, would'st thou shun
Of death at once, the wages and the woe,
Death everlasting, everlasting pain,
Fly to this saving love: haste for thy life
To this sole city of refuge, from the hand
Of blood's avenger. On the altar's horns
Lay hold, poor criminal, and plead for life,
Plead with pathetic force, and violence
Well-pleasing to thy God: plead as undone,
As lost, condemn'd, eternally condemn'd,
Cry, cry aloud for mercy,—mercy, Lord,
And life for a lost soul! Prayer's arrow drawn
Down to the head by nervous penitence
On meek humility's compliant string,
Wings to the destin'd mark its certain way,
And ne'er was shot in vain! Thrice happy he,
Of whom it can be said, “Behold he prayeth.”
33
And cannot but obtain the Grace desir'd,
Which only to desire is to have.
But who would pray aright must cease from sin:
The rebel who for pardon craves, yet not
Lays down the arms rebellious, makes vain suit
To majesty offended. Who would wish
His Saviour's face propitious to behold,
Must his commandment blameless to the end,
And without spot still labour to preserve,
Maintaining faith's good fight.—And need there is,
Hereto of powerful Grace, won to the soul
By fasting and by alms: but chief obtain'd
In that dear feast commemorative of Love
Unparallel'd: where meek-ey'd faith beholds
The bleeding God: and hungry feeds on food
Divine, the bread of life: strength of the soul,
And seed of endless life!—Hail, sign and seal
High-valued, of salvation! feed me, Lord,
There feed me, prostrate at thy altar laid,
And with the banquet rich, refresh my soul,
Sweet antepaste of heav'n! May my right hand
Sooner forget her cunning, than—her seat
While memory holds in this distracted globe—
That I forget in that dear feast of Love,
Thee to remember, to remember thee,
Of sinners dying friend! With melting heart
Let me contemplate in the mystic pledge
Thy body broken, and thy flowing blood;
Blood,—that so freely flow'd from every wound
For man ingrate: and to my soul receive
The heavenly food! mean while in wonder lost,
In wonder at my self, so base, so vile,
And yet so lov'd, so honour'd: for the price
Of man's redemption was Immanuel's blood!
The rebel who for pardon craves, yet not
Lays down the arms rebellious, makes vain suit
To majesty offended. Who would wish
His Saviour's face propitious to behold,
Must his commandment blameless to the end,
And without spot still labour to preserve,
Maintaining faith's good fight.—And need there is,
Hereto of powerful Grace, won to the soul
By fasting and by alms: but chief obtain'd
In that dear feast commemorative of Love
Unparallel'd: where meek-ey'd faith beholds
The bleeding God: and hungry feeds on food
Divine, the bread of life: strength of the soul,
And seed of endless life!—Hail, sign and seal
High-valued, of salvation! feed me, Lord,
There feed me, prostrate at thy altar laid,
And with the banquet rich, refresh my soul,
Sweet antepaste of heav'n! May my right hand
Sooner forget her cunning, than—her seat
While memory holds in this distracted globe—
34
Thee to remember, to remember thee,
Of sinners dying friend! With melting heart
Let me contemplate in the mystic pledge
Thy body broken, and thy flowing blood;
Blood,—that so freely flow'd from every wound
For man ingrate: and to my soul receive
The heavenly food! mean while in wonder lost,
In wonder at my self, so base, so vile,
And yet so lov'd, so honour'd: for the price
Of man's redemption was Immanuel's blood!
Nor let me daily cease to meditate
On the high things recorded in thy WORD:
To cherish thus my hopes, confirm my faith,
And from thy precious promises inflame
Still more and more my soul's warm love to Thee!
Who thro' the world's thick darkness would direct
His course aright: still must in hand hold forth
The Word's pure light: who would the sevenfold power
Of Satan's malice vanquish, must in hand
Continual bear this sword two-edg'd, whose stroke
No power infernal, tho' with triple steel
And adamant encompass'd, can withstand:
Its sharpness severs well each fleshly lust,
And at one stroke the carcase of foul sin
Lays open; while from forth its glittering blade
Such beaming lustre darts upon the soul,
As naked all to view each latent thought,
And each intent discovers.—Well should learn
The christian soldier, in dire war engag'd
With hellish and with earthly foes, combin'd
To work his woe eternal,—well to wield
This weapon all-invincible: while arm'd
At every point, with armour proof, of God
The workmanship complete: with faith's strong shield,
Truth's golden girdle, and salvation's helm:
With righteousness's breast-plate: and his feet
Shod and prepar'd with evangelic peace!
On the high things recorded in thy WORD:
To cherish thus my hopes, confirm my faith,
And from thy precious promises inflame
Still more and more my soul's warm love to Thee!
Who thro' the world's thick darkness would direct
His course aright: still must in hand hold forth
The Word's pure light: who would the sevenfold power
Of Satan's malice vanquish, must in hand
Continual bear this sword two-edg'd, whose stroke
No power infernal, tho' with triple steel
And adamant encompass'd, can withstand:
Its sharpness severs well each fleshly lust,
35
Lays open; while from forth its glittering blade
Such beaming lustre darts upon the soul,
As naked all to view each latent thought,
And each intent discovers.—Well should learn
The christian soldier, in dire war engag'd
With hellish and with earthly foes, combin'd
To work his woe eternal,—well to wield
This weapon all-invincible: while arm'd
At every point, with armour proof, of God
The workmanship complete: with faith's strong shield,
Truth's golden girdle, and salvation's helm:
With righteousness's breast-plate: and his feet
Shod and prepar'd with evangelic peace!
Oh may my hand be taught, still more and more
The happy art to ply this spiritual sword,
The word of God, successful! 'Tis from hence
New consolation flows, and vigour fresh,
The battle to renew 'gainst foes, tho' strong,
Yet yielding daily to the strength of God.
Blest word, on thee are grounded all our hopes;
Thou, letter choice of love from our dear lord,
Assurest of his coming, and the joys
Reserv'd in blest futurity, for those
Who love that coming! As to her heart the bride
The lov'd epistle of her absent spouse
With fervent rapture clasps: so to my heart
Thee ever, till the day the bridegroom comes,
Close let me clasp: nor ever cease to read,
Thy amorous contents: that my heart's flame
May glow with still increasing light and warmth!—
The happy art to ply this spiritual sword,
The word of God, successful! 'Tis from hence
New consolation flows, and vigour fresh,
The battle to renew 'gainst foes, tho' strong,
Yet yielding daily to the strength of God.
Blest word, on thee are grounded all our hopes;
Thou, letter choice of love from our dear lord,
Assurest of his coming, and the joys
Reserv'd in blest futurity, for those
36
The lov'd epistle of her absent spouse
With fervent rapture clasps: so to my heart
Thee ever, till the day the bridegroom comes,
Close let me clasp: nor ever cease to read,
Thy amorous contents: that my heart's flame
May glow with still increasing light and warmth!—
Nor friendly converse would I fail to hold
With those whose happy labours have been spent
In winning to this WORD the hearts of men:
While in their sacred pages branching forth
Its promises celestial, and its threats
With evangelic hope to fire the soul.
Chief, oh ye sacred guardians of the truth,
First fathers of the Church, your volumes rich
Let me for ever prize: and to the Word
Hold next in reverence: Clement, thine, whose name
Is in the book of life; with Justin, thine,
Nervous apologist, and martyr blest.
Nor Cyprian shall be absent, like a rock
Who for pure discipline and doctrine stood
Unshaken: while the venerable page
Of champion Athanasius I peruse,
With wonder and instruction every line
Admiring glad! Hail, suffering combatant—
Thy Master's honour well didst thou maintain!
At thee deluded Arians gnash their teeth,
And growl their hate in vain! Nor let me cease
With royal Basil, Ephraim meek of heart,
And thee, oh soul of eloquence, whose lips
Golden persuasion in rich drops distill'd,
And honey sweeter than th'Hyblean bees,
Fam'd Chrysostom —to spend the useful hours!
While pious Austin frequent calls my soul
From Jerom's solid page, to the sweet work
Of meditation heavenly!—Nor alone
Should ancient sages my attention claim:
From the rich harvest of theology
That grows in England's Church, fam'd for its sons,
Pillars of sacred truth, still would I cull
Some favourite piece: thine, Patrick, chiefly here
Demands my grateful tribute: since from thee
I caught the flame, that thus hath in my soul
The spark poetic, almost dead, reviv'd:
Kindling fresh ardors, and still warmer love
To Jesu's wish'd appearing—And that work
Who more persuasive to complete than thou
Contemplative illustrious, mitred Hall,
Be thou my choice companion! While at hand,
Thy deep read pages, Waterland, are plac'd,
The British Athanasius: sound in sense,
In judgment clear and strong.—But 'twere in vain
To numerate all those whose toilsome pains
Our grateful love demand, and whose great names
Stand in the list of British favour high:
Andrews, and Brownrig: Latimer, and Sharp:
Hammond and Stanhope: Beveridge, Lightfoot, Bull,
Sherlock and Reynolds, Taylor, Stillingfleet,
With Milton, poet divine, and thoughtful Young:
Nor let me serious Law forget, grown hoar
In honourable piety:—Ah that
The mystic lore should e'er from Truth's clear fount
Devious have turn'd thy pen!—Thou, Hervey, too
Whose page and soul alike breathe humblest love
To thy ador'd Redeemer: Thou hast shewn
That piety and polish'd elegance
May well together suit: and while remains
Or piety or elegance, thy works
Like genuine gold the touchstone will abide,
And grateful to thy countrymen remain!
Oh may I to my lowly strains derive
Some merit from the friendship of thy name;
Strains, whose exalted subject fills thy heart,
So constant with delight; and from thy tongue
In converse pours such streams of eloquence
That the rapt hearer wonders at his fears
Of death ere while, and glowing with the love
Of Jesu, caught from thee, longs to behold
His Saviour in the clouds: for who can stand
Amidst the sweetness of Arabian groves,
And not bear thence some fragrance?—Valued friend,
Proceed; and thy too feeble strength renew'd,
May to hoar age thy journey be prolong'd,
And strew'd each step with blessings to mankind!
With those whose happy labours have been spent
In winning to this WORD the hearts of men:
While in their sacred pages branching forth
Its promises celestial, and its threats
With evangelic hope to fire the soul.
Chief, oh ye sacred guardians of the truth,
First fathers of the Church, your volumes rich
Let me for ever prize: and to the Word
Hold next in reverence: Clement, thine, whose name
Is in the book of life; with Justin, thine,
Nervous apologist, and martyr blest.
Nor Cyprian shall be absent, like a rock
Who for pure discipline and doctrine stood
Unshaken: while the venerable page
Of champion Athanasius I peruse,
With wonder and instruction every line
37
Thy Master's honour well didst thou maintain!
At thee deluded Arians gnash their teeth,
And growl their hate in vain! Nor let me cease
With royal Basil, Ephraim meek of heart,
And thee, oh soul of eloquence, whose lips
Golden persuasion in rich drops distill'd,
And honey sweeter than th'Hyblean bees,
Fam'd Chrysostom —to spend the useful hours!
While pious Austin frequent calls my soul
From Jerom's solid page, to the sweet work
Of meditation heavenly!—Nor alone
Should ancient sages my attention claim:
From the rich harvest of theology
That grows in England's Church, fam'd for its sons,
Pillars of sacred truth, still would I cull
Some favourite piece: thine, Patrick, chiefly here
Demands my grateful tribute: since from thee
I caught the flame, that thus hath in my soul
The spark poetic, almost dead, reviv'd:
Kindling fresh ardors, and still warmer love
To Jesu's wish'd appearing—And that work
Who more persuasive to complete than thou
Contemplative illustrious, mitred Hall,
38
Thy deep read pages, Waterland, are plac'd,
The British Athanasius: sound in sense,
In judgment clear and strong.—But 'twere in vain
To numerate all those whose toilsome pains
Our grateful love demand, and whose great names
Stand in the list of British favour high:
Andrews, and Brownrig: Latimer, and Sharp:
Hammond and Stanhope: Beveridge, Lightfoot, Bull,
Sherlock and Reynolds, Taylor, Stillingfleet,
With Milton, poet divine, and thoughtful Young:
Nor let me serious Law forget, grown hoar
In honourable piety:—Ah that
The mystic lore should e'er from Truth's clear fount
Devious have turn'd thy pen!—Thou, Hervey, too
Whose page and soul alike breathe humblest love
To thy ador'd Redeemer: Thou hast shewn
That piety and polish'd elegance
May well together suit: and while remains
Or piety or elegance, thy works
Like genuine gold the touchstone will abide,
And grateful to thy countrymen remain!
Oh may I to my lowly strains derive
Some merit from the friendship of thy name;
39
So constant with delight; and from thy tongue
In converse pours such streams of eloquence
That the rapt hearer wonders at his fears
Of death ere while, and glowing with the love
Of Jesu, caught from thee, longs to behold
His Saviour in the clouds: for who can stand
Amidst the sweetness of Arabian groves,
And not bear thence some fragrance?—Valued friend,
Proceed; and thy too feeble strength renew'd,
May to hoar age thy journey be prolong'd,
And strew'd each step with blessings to mankind!
'Tis for this end, all-gracious Providence
In each disposal wise, hath stretch'd thy span,
Nervous Essayist, Wogan , of the Church
True son: whose writings should the muse o'er pass
Unheeded, well might she be judg'd unjust,
Nor to her own times grateful: Hoary Sage,
Much to thy labours owe we! May thy crown
Be bright with eminent lustre, in the realms
Of retribution faithful: while on earth
Considerate we strive from thy blest toils
To make improvement holy; and advance
From strength to strength: till we together come;
And stand in Sion 'fore the God of Gods!
In each disposal wise, hath stretch'd thy span,
Nervous Essayist, Wogan , of the Church
True son: whose writings should the muse o'er pass
Unheeded, well might she be judg'd unjust,
Nor to her own times grateful: Hoary Sage,
Much to thy labours owe we! May thy crown
Be bright with eminent lustre, in the realms
Of retribution faithful: while on earth
Considerate we strive from thy blest toils
To make improvement holy; and advance
40
And stand in Sion 'fore the God of Gods!
Ah, when shall we so stand, or how so stand?
How, my Maria?—Glory be to God,
Who giveth us the victory thro' Christ,
Triumphant Mediator!—Let us then
The eucharistic hymn join to his fame,
And close with grateful praise the feeble verse,
All too unworthy his rich love: unmeet
For argument so high: yet not disdains
The father fond his lisping infant's tales
Affectionate and artless:—“Thou, dear Lord,
Thou art our Father, and thy children, We:
And as a Father with compassion mild
His children views, so thy paternal eye
With gracious pity on us looks: thy care
All-provident defends; shields and protects,
From ills surrounding: crowns with life, with health,
With blessings, countless, bountiful: the pledge
Of those unnumber'd in our Father's house
Reserv'd to crown his sons, when they return
From pilgrimage and trial well-approv'd!
And oh what bounties rich, what glories high
Unutterable, are reserv'd in that blest house
The palace of his sons, when here below
Even in our prison dark, our earthly cot,
Such goods profuse hang rich on every side!
Oh thou, who feed'st the ravens when they call,
And in their snowy beauty so dost deck
The lilies of the field: give me to trust
With full dependence, Father, on thy will;
And thy appointments high, grateful receive,
(Without base murmuring) of good or ill:
For best thou know'st our weal—
How, my Maria?—Glory be to God,
Who giveth us the victory thro' Christ,
Triumphant Mediator!—Let us then
The eucharistic hymn join to his fame,
And close with grateful praise the feeble verse,
All too unworthy his rich love: unmeet
For argument so high: yet not disdains
The father fond his lisping infant's tales
Affectionate and artless:—“Thou, dear Lord,
Thou art our Father, and thy children, We:
And as a Father with compassion mild
His children views, so thy paternal eye
With gracious pity on us looks: thy care
All-provident defends; shields and protects,
From ills surrounding: crowns with life, with health,
With blessings, countless, bountiful: the pledge
Of those unnumber'd in our Father's house
Reserv'd to crown his sons, when they return
From pilgrimage and trial well-approv'd!
And oh what bounties rich, what glories high
Unutterable, are reserv'd in that blest house
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Even in our prison dark, our earthly cot,
Such goods profuse hang rich on every side!
Oh thou, who feed'st the ravens when they call,
And in their snowy beauty so dost deck
The lilies of the field: give me to trust
With full dependence, Father, on thy will;
And thy appointments high, grateful receive,
(Without base murmuring) of good or ill:
For best thou know'st our weal—
And love like thine,
Celestial Bridegroom o'er that weal to watch
Can never cease; safe may our soul's repose
Love's banner o'er us spread: while thy left-hand
Is plac'd beneath us, and thy tender right
Folds us in thy affectionate embrace!
Oh teach us to return like love to thine!
Oh cause our hearts to glow with passion fond!
While in thy bleeding beauties, heavenly spouse,
We view thy mighty love; and each red drop
Is as a precious pledge, thou fairest found
Amidst ten thousands! All our doubts dispel,
And fill with holy confidence our souls,
Such confidence of love as well besuits
A Bridegroom eminent in love, like thee!
Celestial Bridegroom o'er that weal to watch
Can never cease; safe may our soul's repose
Love's banner o'er us spread: while thy left-hand
Is plac'd beneath us, and thy tender right
Folds us in thy affectionate embrace!
Oh teach us to return like love to thine!
Oh cause our hearts to glow with passion fond!
While in thy bleeding beauties, heavenly spouse,
We view thy mighty love; and each red drop
Is as a precious pledge, thou fairest found
Amidst ten thousands! All our doubts dispel,
And fill with holy confidence our souls,
42
A Bridegroom eminent in love, like thee!
And who shall tax our highest confidence?
Friendship without it is a name: and thou,
Thou art our sovereign, thou our chiefest friend:
Oh matchless grace; thou, Saviour, hast not scorn'd
Benign to call us friends: and to thyself
By all the ties of friendship and of blood,
(Stoop down, ye angels, wonder and adore!)
Poor mortals bind, thy brethren!—And, my God,
May I presume—oh unexampled love—
To call thee Brother?—Not to call thee so,
Were impious, were profane: thou, to that end,
From glory to the Virgin's womb came down,
Cried in the stable, suffer'd on the cross,
And bore man's nature, to ally lost man,
In marvellous relation to his God!
Friendship without it is a name: and thou,
Thou art our sovereign, thou our chiefest friend:
Oh matchless grace; thou, Saviour, hast not scorn'd
Benign to call us friends: and to thyself
By all the ties of friendship and of blood,
(Stoop down, ye angels, wonder and adore!)
Poor mortals bind, thy brethren!—And, my God,
May I presume—oh unexampled love—
To call thee Brother?—Not to call thee so,
Were impious, were profane: thou, to that end,
From glory to the Virgin's womb came down,
Cried in the stable, suffer'd on the cross,
And bore man's nature, to ally lost man,
In marvellous relation to his God!
Our Father then—oh how august is man,
Seen in his true relation!—And our spouse,
Our Brother, and our Friend—exult, my soul—
Is HE, who in the hollow of his hand
Measures the waters: with his span metes out
The vast circumference of heaven: who weighs
In scales the massy mountains, and the hills
In even balance poises: who the winds
Holds in his fists: says to the sea, Be still,
And to the wild storms, Peace. Lo, he takes up
The islands, as a very little thing!
All nations are before him as a drop
Of water from the bucket: as the dust,
As the small dust, that on the balance beam
Hangs imperceptible: as nothing, less
Than nothing—vanity!—What then am I?
I tremble at myself, in his dread sight!
—Yet in that sight how dear a soul redeem'd!
How great, how precious! What a dower immense,
An habitation how divine awaits
The bride, the child, of such a spouse, and sire?
Seen in his true relation!—And our spouse,
Our Brother, and our Friend—exult, my soul—
Is HE, who in the hollow of his hand
Measures the waters: with his span metes out
The vast circumference of heaven: who weighs
43
In even balance poises: who the winds
Holds in his fists: says to the sea, Be still,
And to the wild storms, Peace. Lo, he takes up
The islands, as a very little thing!
All nations are before him as a drop
Of water from the bucket: as the dust,
As the small dust, that on the balance beam
Hangs imperceptible: as nothing, less
Than nothing—vanity!—What then am I?
I tremble at myself, in his dread sight!
—Yet in that sight how dear a soul redeem'd!
How great, how precious! What a dower immense,
An habitation how divine awaits
The bride, the child, of such a spouse, and sire?
I kindle into confidence: the thought
With ardent longing my wrapt heart inspires!
Oh father, honour'd ever;—ever-lov'd
And beauteous bridegroom; brother, friend, and Lord,
Redeemer, hope, sun, shield, my God, my All!
Oh that in all thy mighty power array'd,
That clad in all thy majesty and love—
Oh that the solid firmament of heaven
Thou would'st in sunder rend! That thou would'st come,
Come down in sovereign pomp: that at thy feet
The everlasting mountains might flow down,
And earth dissolve like wax before thy face!
While thro' the eternal deep, illumin'd wide
With sevenfold glory, thy high praise resounds!
Then we to thine unending love receiv'd,
From sin, from sorrow, from decay set free,
Shall enter new Jerusalem, with thee,
City of joy, and realm of endless peace!
With ardent longing my wrapt heart inspires!
Oh father, honour'd ever;—ever-lov'd
And beauteous bridegroom; brother, friend, and Lord,
Redeemer, hope, sun, shield, my God, my All!
Oh that in all thy mighty power array'd,
That clad in all thy majesty and love—
Oh that the solid firmament of heaven
Thou would'st in sunder rend! That thou would'st come,
44
The everlasting mountains might flow down,
And earth dissolve like wax before thy face!
While thro' the eternal deep, illumin'd wide
With sevenfold glory, thy high praise resounds!
Then we to thine unending love receiv'd,
From sin, from sorrow, from decay set free,
Shall enter new Jerusalem, with thee,
City of joy, and realm of endless peace!
Hail sovereign love! thy coming we expect,
And long, with souls awake, to hear the Trump,
To see the sign, to meet thee in the clouds!
Hail sovereign love! Thee first and last we sing,
Grateful our harps attuning to thy praise,
Who with the Father and the Spirit blest,
One seat of sovereign glory fill: supreme
Alike in power, in majesty the same,
Co-equal, coeternal: awful three,
In essence undivided, as in love!
Oh could we reach the strain, that pleasing erst
Rang thro' Heav'n's concave, when thy work complete,
The morning stars in sweetest concord sang,
And all the sons of God shouted for joy!
Then might we hope to win thy favouring ear
Attentive to our Lauds:—But all we hope,
Omnipotent, from efforts feeble, low,
Like ours, is pardon and indulgence bland!
Oh with a gracious eye our fond desires,
That fain would tower aloft, deign to behold!
Thine, Jesus, thine we are: and much we joy
In the relationship divine: to thee
Gladly our helm we leave, steer thou our course,
Unsleeping Pilot, over this world's wave!
Thou our frail vessel in the deep hast launch'd;
Thou, in much mercy, every rock hast shewn,
Each quick-sand kindly pointed out, and taught
How to avoid the perils of each storm,
To hush each tempest, and to calm each wave!
—Oh let the love, that thus unsought was kind,
Implor'd, its kindness still preserve: and guide
Unskilful as we are our vessels helm:
Safe landing us from tempests and from waves
In that lov'd harbour, on that long'd for shore,
Where peace eternal blooms, and one glad day
Of undiminish'd joy for ever shines
Where, in bright crouds, upon the crystal beach,
Saints, angels, friends, stand ready to receive,
And welcome us from out the crazy bark
Nigh-founder'd, landing!—They, each peril past,
Death's gloomy terrors vanquish'd, and each foe
Subdued, with gratulations sweet, and songs
Of joy, shall greet our souls: and 'midst the shouts
Of victory celestial, and the tone
Of heavenly harps, by heavenly harpers strung,
Shall to thy glorious presence introduce:—
But words are wanting here:—We prostrate fall,
Before thee trembling, ravish'd, loving, lost!—
And long, with souls awake, to hear the Trump,
To see the sign, to meet thee in the clouds!
Hail sovereign love! Thee first and last we sing,
Grateful our harps attuning to thy praise,
Who with the Father and the Spirit blest,
One seat of sovereign glory fill: supreme
Alike in power, in majesty the same,
Co-equal, coeternal: awful three,
In essence undivided, as in love!
Oh could we reach the strain, that pleasing erst
Rang thro' Heav'n's concave, when thy work complete,
The morning stars in sweetest concord sang,
And all the sons of God shouted for joy!
Then might we hope to win thy favouring ear
45
Omnipotent, from efforts feeble, low,
Like ours, is pardon and indulgence bland!
Oh with a gracious eye our fond desires,
That fain would tower aloft, deign to behold!
Thine, Jesus, thine we are: and much we joy
In the relationship divine: to thee
Gladly our helm we leave, steer thou our course,
Unsleeping Pilot, over this world's wave!
Thou our frail vessel in the deep hast launch'd;
Thou, in much mercy, every rock hast shewn,
Each quick-sand kindly pointed out, and taught
How to avoid the perils of each storm,
To hush each tempest, and to calm each wave!
—Oh let the love, that thus unsought was kind,
Implor'd, its kindness still preserve: and guide
Unskilful as we are our vessels helm:
Safe landing us from tempests and from waves
In that lov'd harbour, on that long'd for shore,
Where peace eternal blooms, and one glad day
Of undiminish'd joy for ever shines
Where, in bright crouds, upon the crystal beach,
Saints, angels, friends, stand ready to receive,
And welcome us from out the crazy bark
Nigh-founder'd, landing!—They, each peril past,
46
Subdued, with gratulations sweet, and songs
Of joy, shall greet our souls: and 'midst the shouts
Of victory celestial, and the tone
Of heavenly harps, by heavenly harpers strung,
Shall to thy glorious presence introduce:—
But words are wanting here:—We prostrate fall,
Before thee trembling, ravish'd, loving, lost!—
Come then, Lord Jesus: all our souls are thine!
Oh come, sweet Saviour, quickly, quickly come!
We languish, love of God, for thy delay!
Why tarry thus thy chariot-wheels?—How long?
When will it be?—Come quickly:—Lord, how long!
Και το πνευμα, και η νυμφη, λεγουσιν, ΕΛΘΕ.
Oh come, sweet Saviour, quickly, quickly come!
We languish, love of God, for thy delay!
Why tarry thus thy chariot-wheels?—How long?
When will it be?—Come quickly:—Lord, how long!
Και ο ακουων ειπατω, ΕΛΘΕ.
Και ο διψων, Ελθετω, και ο θελων λαμβανετω
Το υδωρ Ζωης δωρεαυ:
Λεγει ο μαρτυρων ταυτα
Ναι ερχομαι ταχυ.
Αυην[] Ναι ΕΡΧΟΨ, ΚΨΡΙΕ ΙΗΣΟΨ.
Revel. xxii. 17.
The END.
Cowards die many times, before their death:
The valiant never taste of death but once:
Of all the wonders that I yet have heard,
It seems to me most strange that men should fear:
Seeing that death, a necessary end,
Will come, when it will come.—
The valiant never taste of death but once:
Of all the wonders that I yet have heard,
It seems to me most strange that men should fear:
Seeing that death, a necessary end,
Will come, when it will come.—
Julius Cæsar in Shakesp.
Archbishop Cranmer was of the most remarkably sweet and forgiving temper, insomuch that it used to be said, “The best way to gain the Archbishop's favour was to do him a shrewd turn:” so much did he delight to forgive. When brought to the stake, he thrust his right hand into the flame, and stood undaunted while it was consum'd.—See the history of these Martyrs in Fox and others.
| Thoughts on the glorious epiphany of the Lord Jesus Christ | |