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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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172

THE SABBATH.

Hail consecrated day of rest,
The day which God supremely blest.
My soul exalted rise to day,
My spirit to Jehovah pray;
Holy Sabbath dreadful thought,
How few regard thee as they ought:
Wisdom, virtue, love, and grace,
Adorn that day, when God of space,
From works of spirit purely rested,
And the day with love invested.
Holy Sabbath o'er my soul,
Maintain a just sincere controul.
173

The day is first which was the last,
Because the Lord of life arose,
A new creation pure and chaste,
The Christian spirit truly knows,
When first he learns to love the Lord,
And pay his homage to his Word.
Holy Sabbath sweetly come,
Delighted, let me feel at home.
And pray to day for week of bliss,
To pass as graciously as this.
Day of duty, thou art mine,
Sweet devotion I am thine,
Rouse thee Spirit rise up high,
In love of godly majesty.
Feel I full of transport now,
Willing to preserve my vow,
I know, I feel. It feebly flies,
The day of duty onward hies,
174

The thought of love to God and man,
Onward hast'ning o'er my span.
For Turk, for Infidel I pray,
For all mankind this sacred day.
Turn the Jew from error Lord,
Let him learn thy faithful Word,
Gladly would I see the tribe
Of Israel, thy love imbibe.
Gladly would I see that race,
Resume the first and proper place:
Delighted should I be to call,
The Rabbi, Bishop over all:
To see the Jew acknowledged free,
In Christian love his liberty.
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