The Choir and The Oratory :: :: University of Virginia Library

Death! thou dark and dismal portal
To the joys of life immortal!
Let thy leaves, unfolding now,
One bright glimpse to faith allow,
Of that happy land afar,
Where redeemed spirits are:
That, as now the heavenly light
Parts the' ascending saint from sight,
Tears of joy alone be shed,—
Joy that blessed are the dead.

Where is Heaven? Oh, whither go
Those who leave their dust below?
Mortal man must die to know.
Fancy cannot climb so high:
Yet, to Stephen seemed it nigh.
One brief hour shall well suffice
For the flight to Paradise.

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That dark day was well-nigh spent:
Ere it closed, the Penitent
Thither with his Saviour went.
No dark realm of shadowy space
Forms the spirit's resting place,
Which He promised to prepare:
Many are the mansions there;—
Ever filling as the skies
Open for new colonies:
Still enriching with the worth
Drawn from this impoverished earth.

Oh, the glorious multitude
That bright Hades must include!
All the old heroic dead,
Gathered round their glorious Head:
Saints of every age and clime,
From the infancy of time;
Seers, apostles, martyrs, sages,
Those who, through the mist of ages,
Shine with undiminished fame,
Lamps of wisdom, souls of flame;

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And the meek, obscure, and lowly,
Whom the world despised as holy,
Through the Saviour's grace and might,
Victors, walk with him in white.
There, in Heaven's most wide embrace,
Myriads, too, of infant race,
Rudely snatched from earth that seemed,
Swell the hosts of the redeemed.
Though the sword that harvest reap,
Childless mother! cease to weep:
Weep not for thy sinless dead;
Rachel! be thou comforted.
Parents, friends, have joined the throng;
Nor shall we be parted long.
Some with us are tarrying here,
For whom, with whom, life is dear.
But the last will soon have fled,
And our home is with the dead.
Life is here in wandering spent;
Earth our place of banishment;
Virtue is but mortal strife;
'Tis at death we come to life,—

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Lay the shield and helmet down
For the palm, the wreathed crown;
Death, the Christian's great reward!
Death, the presence of the Lord!

II.

Lo! again our eyes behold
Those mysterious gates unfold,
And, dear Child! the new-made tomb
Opens for thy youthful bloom.
Oh! to track the spirit's flight!
Yes, though hid from grosser sight,
Faith can scale thy path of light,
Up the' aërial stair that beamed
On the Patriarch as he dreamed,
Still by angel footsteps trod,
To the sapphire throne of God.
—With what strange, unearthly dread,
Though by angel convoys led,
Upward must the spirit press,
Disembodied consciousness!
With what transport, awful, new,
Hasten towards that interview!

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Who of Adam's sinful race
May endure his God to face?
Though redeemed and sanctified,
Who that Living Light abide,
Which no mortal could sustain,
For which Moses asked in vain?
How shall even immortal eye
Bear the' unclouded majesty?

Lo! the opening heavens disclose
One the raptured spirit knows,
Though unlike the form He wore,
When his people's sins He bore,
Yet by love's strong instinct known,
'Mid the glories of the Throne.
And those angel-pinions fleet
Lay their burden at His feet.
Raised by His redeeming hand,
Now that sainted one can stand,
Happy 'mid that happy band;—
Led by Him, to God draw near,
Perfect love expelling fear.

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Shame nor dread shall then alloy
That intense, exceeding joy.
Yes, that hour will heaven impart,
Lord! to see Thee as Thou art;
Changed by that transforming sight,
Kindling into love and light.

But what heavenly form shall dress
Then the' all-happy consciousness?
Or in what bright vehicle
Shall the sainted spirit dwell,
Till the Grave, its mortal coil,
Mingling with the faithful soil,
Chemist exquisite, prepare
For heaven's everlasting wear?
From the dust so springs the flower,
Sown in weakness, raised in power.
How the spirit shall be clad,
Whether in the shape she had,
Imaged in material lent
By some purer element;—
By what fine, instinctive ken,
Spirit shall know spirit then,

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Holding, in mysterious union,
Sweet, ineffable communion;—
Matters not: enough is shown.
We shall know: we shall be known.

Not unsocial their employ,
Or the worship, or the joy,
Of the new-arrived in regions
Populous with blessed legions.
Soon the spirit feels her ties:
Tender thoughts to memory rise,
Unextinguished sympathies.
Happy in angelic care,
She has nearer kindred there,
And through every golden street,
Burns some dearer form to meet.
Is there one to whom on earth
Most she owed her second birth,—
One whose counsel, watching, prayers,
Sowed the seed which glory bears;—
Friend still closer than a brother,—
Mother who was more than mother;—

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Surely to that mansion bright
Love will first direct her flight.
Oh the transports of that meeting,
Glad surprise, and rapturous greeting!
Those who last in sorrow parted;
Some whom death found broken-hearted;
Many a long-lost, rebel child,
Since brought home and reconciled;
Friends of youth, too early lost;
Some whose love the world had crossed;
There they meet, no more to sever;
Meet in bliss, and meet for ever!
Some remain as yet below,
Struggling in a world of woe;
But their names are there enrolled
As belonging to the Fold:
Sweet the thought!—their places wait:
They will not arrive too late.

III.

Here had paused the venturous strain,
When those portals once again

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Sudden turned with gentlest sound.
—Easy exit hast thou found,
Dearest Father! such thy prayer;
And what joyful entrance there!
Like a sheaf of ripened grain,
In the garner Thou art lain;
Full of years, thy locks of grey
Laurels of a well-spent day.
Grave! this venerable dust
Take into thy faithful trust.
Tears of joy alone be shed;
Blessed are the pious dead.
Thanks and praise to Thee we give,
Lord, to whom, with whom, they live!
Thanks for all thy servants dear
Who have, in thy faith and fear,
Hence departed! So may we,
Following those who followed Thee,
Join that holy company!
Onward, upward, let us press,
Tending to that blessedness;
Gathering round us, in our course,
By example's hallowed force,

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All whom we can snatch, or win,
From the downward paths of sin:
Losing nothing, but to find,
When we leave this world behind,
More than earth at best could shew,
All we lost or loved below:—
Still, amid the race, the strife
Of this agonistic life,
Witnessed by the circle bright
Who have won their course to light,
Ever on the goal intent;
Still on heaven our purpose bent,
Where our Leader, Saviour, Lord,
Holds the infinite reward.

Then, the course, the fight, achieved,
Oh, what joy, to be received,
Through that mercy we believed;
And, death's gloomy portal past,—
(That grim foe shall be the last,—)
'Mid our glorious friends above,
Be all joy and praise and love.

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FEAR NOT.

“Fear not......I have the keys of the Grave and of death.”—Rev. i. 17, 18.

Oh, cling not, Trembler, to life's fragile bark:
It fills—it soon must sink.
Look not below, where all is chill and dark:
'Tis agony to think
Of that wild waste; but look, oh! look above,
And see the outstretched arm of Love.

Cling not to this poor life: unlock thy clasp
Of fleeting, vapoury air.
The world receding soon will mock thy grasp;
But let the wings of prayer
Take the blest breeze of Heaven, and upward flee,
And life from God shall enter thee.

Oh, fear not Him who walks the stormy wave:
'Tis not a spectre, but the Lord.
Trust thou in Him who overcame the Grave,
Who holds in captive ward

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The powers of Hell. Heed not the monster grim;
Nor fear to go through death to Him.

Look not so fondly back on this false Earth:
Let hope not linger here.
Say, would the worm forego its second birth,
Or the transition fear,
That gives it wings to try a world unknown,
Although it wakes and mounts alone?

But thou art not alone: on either side
The portal, friends stand guard.
And the kind spirits wait thy course to guide.
Why, why should it be hard,
To trust our Maker with the soul He gave,
Or Him who died that soul to save?

Into His hands commit thy trembling spirit,
Who gave His life for thine.
Guilty, fix all thy trust upon His merit:
To Him thy heart resign.
Oh, give Him love for love, and sweetly fall
Into His hands who is thy All.

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EXTREME UNCTION.

Oil mixed with balm, by lordly prelate blest,
The juggling priest for fee administreth,
To lull the cheated conscience into rest,
To ease the heavy-grinding gates of death.
Oh wretched mummery! No oil, no balm,
But only blood the guilty mind can calm.

No priest but He who ministers above,
Can make the soul from all defilement pure:
No balm in Gilead like his dying love;
No oil can work the wounded spirit's cure,
Like that rich chrism outpoured upon His head,
And, flowing thence, on all his members shed.

Thou God of Peace, who dost to every saint
That unction from the Holy One afford!
In that dread hour when flesh and spirit faint,
Upon my soul be that sweet influence poured,
To' embalm my spirit, strength of faith impart,
And be the seal and witness to my heart.

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THE DYING CHRISTIAN.

A PARODY.

“Vital spark of heavenly flame!”
Thou must quit this mortal frame.
Yet on Christ, thy life, relying,
Death is gain; then fear not dying.
Soon shall cease this mortal strife,
And death be swallowed up of life.

Hark! a voice from heaven has said,
“Blessed are the pious dead.”
Why should earth so fondly twine
Round this fainting heart of mine?
Holy Spirit, Quickening Breath!
Be thou my spirit's life in death.

The world recedes:—Begone my fears!
Beyond the narrow stream appears
The City of Heaven's King.
Soon shall this chorus fill the sky:
O Grave! where is thy Victory?
O Death! where is thy Sting?

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LIFE, MORTAL AND IMMORTAL.—FOUR SONNETS.

I.

“Marvel not:—ye must be born again.”—John iii. 7.

The human plant has life before its birth
To conscious being. Then, a sentient flower,
Slowly the germ puts forth each vital power.
Not yet the man is formed, till Pain and Mirth
Have waked the soul to all the things of earth,
And Mind of Sense is born. Youth's fervid hour
Is spent, ere Man attains the ample dower
Of Reason. But ah! what is reason worth,
To him who lives in sin and dies in gloom?
Another birth the soul must undergo,
Its noblest style of being to assume;—
Derived from One 'tis endless life to know,
An immortality begun below,
A life Divine, which oversteps the tomb.

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II.

“Fear not them which kill the body, but are not able to kill the soul.” Matt. x. 28.

What is the moral life? Of conscious power
The brute partakes: he thinks, and feels, and knows.
Say, is it mind or matter which thus shews
Like reason? Yet, in common with the flower,
Insect, or worm, the' enjoyment of his hour
Of being is his all, and death its close.
Not so the life that changes as it grows,
Knowledge of good and ill its fearful dower;—
The life of spirit, which is choice and will,
And by its choice self-shaped, becoming what
It loves and seeks,—essential good or ill;
Its character foreshadowing its lot;
A life which foes and tyrants cannot kill,—
Which death, that slays the body, harmeth not.

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III.

“Glory, and honour, and immortality.”—Rom. ii. 7.

How does the aspirant for earthly fame
Live in a future that shall never be,
(Instinctive pledge of immortality!)
Ascribing conscious being to a name,
Mere shadow thrown by that delusive flame
Which forms his sun; wherein he seems to see
A fairer self, a nobler destiny.
How does this hope sustain and nerve his frame?
No false mirage, no posthumous deceit,
Christian, invites thy onward, upward course.
Thee shall not death of thy reversion cheat,
Nor interrupt that life which has its source
In faith, and not on earth can be complete.
Up, slumberers, and take this heaven by force!

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IV.

“Gather up the fragments that remain, that nothing be lost.”—John vi. 12.

It is the sovereign voice of Nature's King,
Echoed through all His works. The swift decay
Inscribed on earth's magnificent array,
For new perfection marks each fading thing.
All changing forms to second being spring,
By earth embalmed. The hues that pass away
From golden-anthered flowers the soil repay;
Or insect worlds are ever on the wing,
To catch the glorious spoil. All fragments seem,
Transformed, or gathered up, with life to teem.
Man only dies and renders no return.
But nothing may be lost: his mouldering frame
Shall give its fragments up,—ere empires burn,
And triumph o'er the universal flame.

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DEATH.

“By one man sin entered into the world, and death by Sin.”—Rom. v. 12.

“And death by Sin,”—Sin the sole cause of Death.
Yet do not brutes and things unconscious die?
The happy birds that spend in song their breath,
Bright insects, flowers, and all beneath the sky?
They bloom or breathe, then change and disappear;
But death they know not, fear not, need not fear.

Extinction is not death. Its fading leaves
The tree deplores not, nor resents its fall.
The insect feels no pang. No being grieves
To die, but conscious Man, who mourns for all.
But to the brute, his term of being spent,
Death is cessation, and not punishment.

Creative Opulence can well sustain
This waste and flow of reproductive life,
In wondrous scale; and nothing lives in vain.
Oh! had there been thro' Nature's ranks no strife,

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No need to kill, no men or beasts of prey,
How gently forms of earth had turned to clay!

Then what is death? Is it life's tranquil close,
As stops the time-piece when the spring is spent,—
Sleep's “brother twin,” the dreamless Grave's repose,
The debt of Nature? Oh can this be meant
By Sin's dire sentence? Whence hath Death its sting?
Or why the power and realm of death a King?

Man only, conscious of the doom he fears,
Survives, Death's captive, changed but not destroyed.
Torn from its shell, the spirit disappears,
Called by a summons it would fain avoid.
The humbled form commingles with the sod:
The naked spirit goes to meet its God.

Death! 'tis a fearful, yet a blessed thing;
A curse through Adam, yet through Christ a boon.
Glory to Him who drew the serpent's sting,
That we might trample on the Monster soon.
Man only dies: He was made man, to save,
By suffering death and vanquishing the Grave.

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Where is thy victory, Grave? This body must
Be sown in weakness, to be raised in power.
Destroy this temple,—scatter wide its dust;
Let flames consume this flesh, or worms devour:
The germ is safe: it waits the call to rise.
The life from Christ imparted never dies.

INFANT SALVATION.

“Death reigned.......over them that had not sinned.”—Rom. v. 14.

“Their angels do always behold the face of my Father.”—Matt. xviii. 10.

Death—in the drear oppression
That marks his penal sway—
Death claims for his possession
Our infants as a prey:
Lost in the first transgression;
But saved through intercession.

As by one fatal action,
Made subjects of his reign,
They through the dread contraction
Inherit sin's deep stain:

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So did one great transaction
For them make satisfaction.

Ye stricken and bereaved,
Your dearer selves resign
To Him whose bosom heaved
With tenderness benign:
No heart hath yet conceived
Their joys for whom He grieved.

His one entire oblation
Did for all stain atone:
And He their presentation
Has made before the throne,—
Heirs of His great salvation;
Fruits of His mediation.

Already breaks the gleaming
That marks the night far spent:
The herald star its beaming
Strikes through the firmament.
The earth with hope is teeming,
And waits for her redeeming.

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Then shall each warm petition
Its full response obtain,
And love's bereft condition
Be turned to endless gain;
The rich and full fruition
Of the Incarnate Mission.

REASONS FOR LIFE.

“To abide in the flesh is more needful.”—Phil. i. 24.

I will take refuge in my God
From man, and sin, and woe.
Fain would I drop this mortal clod,
To know as angels know;
And love as angels love,
And be as angels pure.
It is all light, pure light above,—
Bliss unalloyed and sure.

But shall I shun the sacred fight
Which good maintains with ill?
No; strong in my Redeemer's might,
Be mine to wrestle still.

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Here only, in this strife,
Can I his soldier be:
Here only spend or lose a life
For Him who died for me.

Nor would I too impatient pry
The awful veil within;
Or scan the' appalling mystery
Of God-resisting sin.
Oh, let me be content
For Heaven's own light to stay.
The night, the night, is well-nigh spent:—
Ere long it will be day.

THE CHRISTIAN PILGRIM.

“Ye are not as yet come to the rest and to the inheritance.” Deut. xii. 9.

Oh, say not, think not in thy heart,
I here will take my rest.
Remember, thou a pilgrim art,
A sojourner confessed.

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Think of thy dwelling as a tent.
Thy business is—advance.
But foes on robbing thee are bent,
Of thine inheritance.

Remember, then, thy heavenly birth:
Despise the worlding's frown;
Nor let this meretricious earth
Beguile thee of thy crown.

Yield not to dull and slumberous ease,
The prize, thy life, at stake.
Repose is danger; sleep, disease;
And few that slumber wake.

'Tis immortality we seek,—
A free, yet rich reward.—
But sin is strong, and flesh is weak:
Increase our faith, O Lord!

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COMFORT IN TROUBLE.

“For he doth not afflict willingly.”—Lam. iii. 33.

Blessed be God! He is not strict
Our follies to requite.
He doth not willingly afflict,
Or in our groans delight.

With long forbearance He endures
Those who His wrath defy;
While to His saints the Cross secures
A glorious amnesty.

Despise not, then, His chastening,
Nor faint beneath His rod.
Errands of love our trials bring,
To lead us back to God.

Good Lord! our doubts and murmurs chase.
That we may look above,
And, when Thy ways we cannot trace,
Still trust Thy covenant love.

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BENEFICENCE.

“Blessing; knowing that ye are thereunto called, that ye should inherit a blessing.” —1 Pet. iii. 9.

Why are springs enthroned so high,
Where the mountains kiss the sky?
'Tis that thence their streams may flow,
Fertilizing all below.

Why have clouds such lofty flight,
Basking in the golden light?
'Tis to send down genial showe
On this lower world of ours.

Why does God exalt the great?
'Tis that they may prop the State;
So that toil its sweets may yield,
And the sower reap the field.

Riches, why doth He confer?
That the rich may minister,

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To the children of distress,
To the poor and fatherless.

Does He light a Newton's mind?
'Tis to shine on all mankind.
Does He give to Virtue birth?
'Tis the salt of this poor earth.

Reader, whosoe'er thou art,
What thy God has given, impart.
Hide it not within the ground:
Send the cup of blessing round.

Hast thou power? The weak defend.
Light? Give light: thy knowledge lend.
Rich? Remember Him who gave.
Free? Be brother to the slave.

Called a blessing to inherit,
Bless, and richer blessings merit.
Give, and more shall yet be given:
Love, and serve, and look for Heaven.

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THE CLAIMS OF THE COLONIES.

“Make straight in the desert a highway for our God.”—Isai. xl. 3.

Churches of Christ, by God's right hand
Thick-planted in this favoured land!
If to your hearts His word be dear,
Oh, think of those who pine to hear,
Far from their native shores exiled,
A pastor's voice amid the wild.

Oh, let a voice of comfort bless
The lone and rugged wilderness.
Send faithful shepherds forth, to feed
The scattered wanderers in their need.
Straight paths for feeble knees prepare;
And drooping hands sustain by prayer.

The heathen who in darkness lay,
Wake to the dawn of heavenly day:

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But shall a worse than pagan night
O'ertake the race that dwelt in light;
And Britain's God, to Britons thrown
On distant shores, become unknown?

Great Shepherd of the ransomed seed!
For Thy dispersed ones we plead.
How shall these multitudes be fed?
'Tis Thine to multiply the bread.
Richly hast Thou our wants supplied:
By us, for them, for all, provide.

THE SCEPTRE OF BRITAIN.

“And all nations shall call you blessed, for ye shall be a delightsome land.” —Mal. iii. 12.

Land of the Free indeed!
Whose glorious conquests own
Subjects of every creed,
Your Christian name is known
Where'er your martial trumpet rings:
Bid it proclaim the King of kings.

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O Land whose wondrous reign
Its peaceful sceptre bends,
From Eastern mount and main,
To Earth's remotest ends!
Unsetting suns your empire bless:
Announce the Sun of Righteousness.

His throne is on your hills:
All may draw near, and live.
His train your temple fills,
The beams of grace to give.
Then bid the seraph-missions fly,
Touched by the living flames on high.

Your conquering standards claim
Allegiance to your sway:
Extend it in His name
Whom heavenly hosts obey.
O'er earth your banner is unfurled:
Then plant the Cross throughout the world.

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THE CHORUS OF HEAVEN.

“And they sung as it were a new song before the throne.”—Rev. xiv. 3.

What blissful harmonies above
In vocal thunders swell?
The perfecting of joy and love
What raptured legions tell?

The glorious apostolic band,—
Do they in triumph sing?
Do prophets from the Holy Land
Their inspiration bring?

Or from the noble army breaks
The deep, adoring strain,
Who won their way from fiery stakes,
And were for conscience slain?

Is it the patriarchal race
That breathe the sacred song?
Or to the heirs of gospel grace
Do the full choirs belong?

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For each, for all, the Word is found
Almighty to atone.
All, all in shining hosts surround
The rainbow-cinctured throne.

Peoples, and languages, and tongues
The choral anthem raise:
To every voice and speech belongs
The work of heavenly praise.

DOXOLOGY.

Praise the God of all creation:
Praise the Father's boundless love.
Praise the Lamb, our Expiation,
Priest and King enthroned above.
Praise the Fountain of salvation,
Him by whom our spirits live.
Undivided adoration
To the One Jehovah give.

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THE EUCHARIST.

“Ye do shew the Lord's death till he come.”—1 Cor. xi. 26.

Eighteen centuries have fled
Since our Saviour broke the bread,
And this sacred feast ordained,
Ever by His church retained.
Those His body who discern,
Thus shall meet till His return.

Through the Church's long eclipse,
When, from priest or pastor's lips,
Truth divine was never heard,—
'Mid the famine of the word,
Still these symbols witness gave
To His love who died to save.

All who bear the Saviour's name,
Here their common faith proclaim.
Though diverse in tongue or rite,
Here, one body, we unite;

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Breaking thus one mystic bread,
Members of one common Head.

Come, the blessed emblems share,
Which the Saviour's death declare.
Come, on truth immortal feed;
For His flesh is meat indeed.
Saviour! witness with the sign,
That our ransomed souls are Thine.

MARY AT THE FEET OF CHRIST.

“For she loved much.”—Luke vii. 47.

When Mary to the Heavenly Guest
Her duteous offering made,
And, faith's allegiance to attest,
Her weeping homage paid;

The heavy drops distinctly traced
On his untended feet,
Soon every stain of toil effaced,
And gave Him welcome meet.

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She with her veil of folding hair
The broidered woof supplied,
And ministered with gentlest care
The rites his host denied.

Then on that more than regal head,
(Unseen its glory-crown,)
The broken alabaster shed
Its costly incense down.

More precious than her Indian nard
The homage it expressed,—
The humblest, holiest regard,
Her contrite tears confessed.

So would I bow, ascended King!
And Thy forgiveness move.
No worthy tribute can I bring:
Thou wilt the Giver prove.

So at Thy feet my faith shall live,
By love adoring led;
My heart its broken marble give,
But Thou the perfume shed.

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THE HEALING TOUCH.

“If I may but touch his garment, I shall be whole.”—Matt. ix. 21.

Not Thy garment's hem alone,
My trembling faith would hold,
Though Divine compassion shone
Beneath its sacred fold.
Thou didst own her mute appeal,
Who besought Thy power to heal.

Earthly robes which Thou didst wear
Thy glories to enshroud,
Could remedial virtue bear,
To one amid the crowd.
More than mortal health I crave,
Now Thou art enthroned to save.

That bright raiment I would seek,
Dyed in the atoning flood,
Which can peace and pardon speak,—
Thy vesture dipped in blood.

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Here my hope its refuge holds:
Hide me in its sheltering folds.

Mediating Priest above!
My languid spirit faints
For that suit of joy and love,
The righteousness of saints.
Great Redeemer! clothe me in
Robes which Thou hast died to win.

FOR SATURDAY EVENING.

“And the Sabbath drew on.”—Luke xxiii. 54.

The hours of evening close:
Its lengthened shadows, drawn
O'er scenes of earth, invite repose,
And wait the Sabbath-dawn.
So let its calm prevail
O'er forms of outward care;
Nor thought for “many things” assail
The still retreat of prayer.

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Our guardian Shepherd near,
His watchful eye will keep;
And safe from violence or fear,
Will fold His flock to sleep.
So may a holier light
Than earth's our spirits rouse,
And call us, strengthened by His might,
To pay the Lord our vows.

“EXCEPT THE LORD BUILD THE HOUSE.”

Psalm cxxvii.

Vainly to rear the sacred fane,
If the Lord build it not,
The builders toil. Watchful in vain,
The sentry guards the spot,
Unless that Eye which never sleeps,
The else unguarded city keeps.

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Early and late, with ceaseless care,
Vainly for wealth you strive,—
Submit to hardship, coarsely fare;
No enterprise can thrive
Without the blessing from above:
Sleep is the gift of Heavenly Love.

Are children thy desire? The Lord
Those treasures too must give.
The fruit of love is His reward:
'Tis His prerogative,
With sons in all their youthful pride,
Weapons of strength, to arm Thy side.

Like arrows, such a progeny,
In hand of warrior skilled;
And with those shafts thrice happy he
Who has his quiver filled,—
Swift on their Sire's behest to go,
And plead his cause against the foe.

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THE REFUGE OF THE PERSECUTED.

Psalm xl.

In Jehovah, my God, I confide:
Why then will ye urge me to fly,
As a bird to her covert, from danger to hide?
“Oh, flee to the mountains,” they cry:

“For the bow of the wicked is bent,
And the arrow is ready to start:
He fits it in secret; for thee it is meant:
It is aimed at the upright in heart.

“When justice and honour have fled,
When laws are laid prostrate by force,
Oh, where can the righteous be safe?” they have said.
“Oh, where have the injured resource?”

Jehovah, who dwelleth in light,
Discerns from his throne in the skies:
He searcheth the heart, and his judgments are right.
For a season the righteous He tries.

274

But wo to the' oppressor! The Lord
In vengeance descends from above,
His foes to consume, but His saints to reward;
And then shall they joy in His love.

SOLACE IN EVIL TIMES.

Psalm xii.

Help, Lord! our hope alone,
Of mortal helpers reft.
The pious dead we moan:
Few now the faithful left.
Man meets his friend with treacherous smile,
With hollow heart and lips of guile.

Wo to the lips of guile,
The false and boastful tongue;
To all who seek by wile
And fraud to compass wrong!
“Our lips,” they proudly say, “are free:
Who shall presume our lord to be?”

275

God hears the poor man's sighs,
When by oppression bowed;
And saith, “I will arise
To save him from the proud.”
His promises are sure and tried,
Like silver seven times purified.

In these dark times, our trust
We still in God repose.
Thou wilt preserve the just,
And guard them from their foes.
What wonder, when the wicked sway,
That vice no longer shuns the day!

WAITING ON GOD.

Psalm lxii.

Yes, on God I still depend;
Timely aid from Him attend.
His protection is my tower,
My retreat in danger's hour.
(Thus my heart is self-reproved.)
I shall not be greatly moved.

276

Oh, how long, with base intent,
Aimed against the innocent,
Will ye schemes of mischief cherish?
Tremble, for ye all shall perish:
Like a weak and bowing wall,
Sudden, desperate, your fall.
For the wicked but concert
How the righteous to subvert:
Ill their flattering tongues conceal
That deep malice which they feel.

Wait, my soul, on God alone:
Wait for succour from His throne.
Hide beneath His name of power,
My defence and safety-tower.
With His guardian might surrounded,
I shall never be confounded.

God for my salvation came:
I will glory in His name.
Safe beneath His arm I dwell,
My strong-hold and citadel.

277

Trust in Him for evermore,
Ye His people; freely pour
In His ear your sad complaints;—
Sure the refuge of His saints.

Vain the help of man to court;
Vain the fickle crowd's support;
Vain on nobles to rely,—
Falsehood all, and treachery.
Weigh the rich and poor together,
Both are lighter than a feather.
Trust them not, nor trust in gain:
Fraud or force shall prove in vain.
Whether got by right or stealth,
Set not your fond heart on wealth.
More than once hath God made known,
Power belongs to Him alone.
Mercy too belongs to Thee!
Mercy joined with Equity.

278

ADMONITION TO RULERS.

Psalm lxxxii.

I.

Amid the council, in the judgement-hall,
Where sit the gods of earth, dispensing fate,
A Mightier One sits by, the Judge of all,
The King of kings, the God of small and great.

How long shall outraged justice plead in vain,
While prosperous villany evades the laws?
Oh, shield the' oppress'd, the orphan's right maintain,
Protect the weak, defend the poor man's cause.

II.

Vain the appeal: they will not hear:
They know not, will not understand.
With darkened mind, and conscience sear,
They still pursue their blind career,
While groans the burdened land.
The bonds of law have lost their force,
And all things wander from their course.

279

III.

Gods have I called you,—for to you is lent
The godlike charge, a nation's government.
Earthly vicegerents of the Lord Most High!
The common doom awaits you—Ye must die.

IV.

Arise, O God, and make Thy justice known!
Rule Thou the earth: the earth is all Thine own;
And let all nations bow before Thine awful throne.

COMPLAINT UNDER OPPRESSION.

Psalm cxxiii.

To Thee I raise mine anxious eyes,
O Thou who dwellest far above the skies!
Lo, as assiduous servants stand,
Watching their master's speaking hand;
As maidens on their mistress bend
Their looks, and every sign attend;
Even so, O God, we wait the sign
Of mercy from Thy hand divine.

280

Have mercy, mercy, Lord, on our distress!
Our souls are filled with bitterness;
Drenched with the cup of scorn, and bowed
Beneath the' oppression of the proud,—
The heartless jeers of men elate
With wealth,—the insults of the great.

THE SECURITY OF THE CHURCH.

Psalm cxxv.

Firm as the mount of God shall they abide,
Who in the Lord confide:
Zion, whose everlasting base,
Oh what can e'er displace?
And as the guardian hills surround
Salem's thrice holy ground,
So doth God's circling presence shelter those
Who on His love repose;
So will He evermore their souls from harm enclose.

281

Not long the tyrant's iron rod shall rest
Upon His saints oppressed;
Lest even the righteous that o'ergalling yoke
At length to crimes provoke.
But still the good and true in heart, the Lord
With goodness will reward:
While those who turn aside and dare rebel,
Must go where sinners dwell,
Their portion shame:—but peace shall be on Israel.

“O COME, LET US SING UNTO THE LORD.”

Psalm xcv.

Oh come, and let us sing unto the Lord:
Let us heartily rejoice
In the Rock of our salvation.
Come, bow before His face with glad accord,
And with joyous heart and voice
Pay your grateful adoration.

282

For lo! our God is infinitely great.
In glory uncreate,
Above all powers of earth and heaven he reigns.
He laid the deep foundations of the earth:
He built the mountains, gave the ocean birth,
And spread the spacious plains.

Oh come, and let us worship at his throne,
Prostrate before Jehovah. He, our God,
Our Maker, hath redeemed us for His own,
Flock of His pasture, subjects of His rod.

To-day obey His voice. Thus saith the Lord:
Oh, be not of obdurate heart, like those,
Your fathers, at Meribah who rebelled,
And who at Massah, in the wilderness,
Tempted my power, though they had seen my works.
For forty years that race my anger moved.
I said: They are a race perverse of heart,
Who would not keep my ways. So, in my wrath,
I sware they should not enter to my rest.

283

VIATICUM.

Psalm cxxi.

Shall I lift tow'rds the hills mine anxious eyes?
Cometh my succour thence?

No: He who built the hills and spread the skies,—
The Lord is my defence.

Safe their footsteps whom He keeps.
May the Eye that never sleeps,
On thy path benignant dwell!
He who guardeth Israel,
Nor the noontide slumber knows,
Nor the midnight's deep repose.
May Jehovah's care attend thee!
May the pillared cloud defend thee
From the fiery stroke of noon,
From the blight of the chill moon!
Go, secure from all alarm:
Foes nor fiends thy life shall harm.

284

God will still preserve thy soul;
Guard thee to thy journey's goal;
Safely to thy home restore;
Bless and keep thee evermore.

RESTORATION FROM CAPTIVITY.

Psalm cxxvi.

Oh, when the Lord restored us to our land,
How did deliverance seem
A bright, transporting dream!
We laughed for joy, in many a tuneful band.
The heathen cried—even they Thy hand perceived—
“Great things for Zion has their God achieved.”

He hath wrought great things, wherefore we are glad.
Lord! turn the captive train,
Like torrents after rain.
Let those reap joy, whose seed-time was most sad.
He who now sows in scarcity, and grieves,
Shall come home laden with his golden sheaves.

285

THE LAST NIGHT OF SLAVERY.

Let the floods clap their hands!
Let the mountains rejoice!
From our own native sands
Breathes the jubilant voice:
The sun that now sets on thy waves, Caribbee!
Shall gild with his rising the Isles of the Free.

Let the islands be glad,
For their King in his might,
Who his glory has clad
With a garment of light,
In the waters the beams of his chambers hath laid,
And in the great waters his pathway has made.

No more shall the deep
Lend its awe-stricken waves
In their caverns to steep
Its wild burden of slaves:
The Lord sitteth King;—sitteth King on the flood.
He heard, and hath answered the voice of their blood.

286

Oh, what of the night?
Doth the Crucifix bend?
When shall glimmer the light
This gross darkness to end?
Deep in the Pacific has sunk the last gleam
That o'er the dark horrors of bondage might stream.

Brief, brief is the night
Of the tropical zone,
Ere a balance of light
Shall the darkness atone;
And thus for black ages may brightness return,
Nor fail till the dawn of eternity burn.

The sunlight must glance
On our freedom-girt shore,
Ere its splendours advance
Their blest ransom to pour.
Our rivers and vales must reflect the first glow,
That captives shall, freed from captivity, know.

287

Now fades on our sphere
The last vigilant star:
From moorland and mere
Rolls the mist-cloud afar;
And springs from the Levant a life-teeming ray,
To chase deeper shadows than midnight's away.

Dispel the blue haze,
Golden fountain of morn!
With meridian blaze
The wide ocean adorn!
The sunlight has touched thy glad shores, Caribbee!
And day now illumines the Isles of the Free!

August 1, 1834.

The Southern Constellation, which appears to bend at midnight.

THE BENEDICTION.

Phil. iv. 7.

The peace of God, transcending
All human comprehending,
Its secret joys afford;
Your heart and mind defending,
In faith and love depending
On Jesus Christ our Lord.

288

“HEIRS TOGETHER OF THE GRACE OF LIFE.”

1 Peter iii. 7.

With all my heart I love thee;
Not less thy love to me.
Yet dare I say to thee,
One Friend still ranks above thee.
Yes, thou art all the nearer,
For Him who yet is dearer.

And, pleased, the mutual feeling
I heard by thee confessed,—
“Thou dost not love me best:”
Thy full heart so revealing,
That I to Thee am nearer,
Because Thy Lord is dearer.