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Original, serious, and religious poetry

by the Rev. Richard Cobbold
Cobbold, Richard (1797-1877)

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CHARITY.
 I. 
REFLECTION I.
 II. 
REFLECTION II.
 III. 
REFLECTION III.
 IV. 
REFLECTION IV.
 V. 
REFLECTION V.
 VI. 
REFLECTION VI.
  
LINES WRITTEN IMPROMTU IN FOX'S BOOK OF THE MARTYRS.
 VII. 
REFLECTION VII.
  
LINES WRITTEN TO SIR JOHN WHITEFOORD'S FAMILY, ON THE EVE OF THEIR DEPARTURE FROM IPSWICH.
 VIII. 
REFLECTION VIII.
 IX. 
REFLECTION IX.
 X. 
REFLECTION X.
 XI. 
REFLECTION XI.
  
TRUTH.
 XII. 
REFLECTION XII.
  
FOR RAIN.
  
RETURN FOR RAIN.
 XIII. 
REFLECTION XIII.
 XIV. 
REFLECTION XIV.
  
TO LOVERS.
 XV. 
REFLECTION XV.
 XVI. 
REFLECTION XVI.
  
VIRTUE.
 XVII. 
REFLECTION XVII.
  
RETURNING HEALTH; LINES ADDRESSED TO MR. B---T.
  
TO THE GOOD.
  
TO THE UNFORGIVING.
  
CHRISTMAS DAY, 1826.
 XVIII. 
REFLECTION XVIII.
  
REFLECTIONS UPON GOING TO REST.
 XIX. 
REFLECTION XIX.
  
FAITH.
  
HELMINGHAM.
  
[Who feels as Christian must acknowledge this]
  
TO THE PENITENT.
  
TO THE IMPENITENT.
  
TO THE WISE MAN.
  
TO THE INFIDEL.
  
THE RIDE.
  
ORWELL,
  
TO THE DISAPPOINTED.
  
TO THE MARRIED.
  
LOVE.
  
LINES WRITTEN IN MY BIBLE.
  
A MEMORABLE EVENING.
  
TO J. C. THE UNKNOWN POET.
  
THE EYE OF AGONY.
  
A MOTHER.
  
MAN.
  
TO MY GOD.
  
TO MY LOVE.
  
TO THE PATIENT CHRISTIAN.
  
TO A PERSON WISHING TO ENTER INTO HOLY ORDERS.
  
TO MY HEART.
  
THE WRETCHED MAN.
 XX. 
REFLECTION XX.
 XXI. 
REFLECTION XXI.
  
REVELATIONS.
  
TO MRS. COLE.
 XXII. 
REFLECTION XXII.
  
TO MY FATHER.
 XXIII. 
REFLECTION XXIII.
  
TO THE INCONSTANT.
 XXIV. 
REFLECTION XXIV.
  
GOOD NIGHT.
  
THE SABBATH.
  
A TRUE NARRATION.
 XXV. 
REFLECTION XXV.
  
SENSATIONS UPON SEEING THE SHUTTERS OF A HOUSE HALF CLOSED.
  
DISTRACTED POETRY.
  
BITTERNESS.
  
THE LAST HOUR OF LOVE.
  
TO THE WICKED.
 XXVI. 
REFLECTION XXVI.
  
ON SEEING MY FATHER AT THE AGE OF EIGHTY-ONE, AN ATTENDANT AT HIS SONS CHURCH.
  
THOUGHTS UPON VIRTUE.
  
HEAVEN.
  
THE CHRISTIAN'S FAREWELL.
  
TO THE PURITAN.
  
DECEMBER 30TH, 1826, CLAYDON CHURCHYARD.
  
TO THE LIBERTINE.
  
ON THE PROSPECT OF LEAVING MY NATIVE TOWN.

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163

TO MY FATHER.

God bless thee, God bless thee, thou dearest old man,
I owe thee 'neath Providence all I possess,
Behold such another, O never I can!
And love such another, another such bless,
O never! O never! for thou to my sight,
To my heart, to my soul, art a welcome delight.
Thine age eighty-one, thine infirmities none,
Thine intellect bright, and thy judgment as clear,
Thy kindness to all, has been never outdone,
And thy goodness to all will for ever be dear.
Dearest father at thirty, thy youngest but one
Writes the language of love, let that love be outdone.
164

This the record is true, fifteen children thy care,
Thou hast placed in the world, independently too,
One and all they must love thee, dear father we are
Devoted in honor, affection is due;
God bless thee, God bless thee, thou dearest old man,
May'st thou live, and be loved to the length of thy span.
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