University of Virginia Library

THE DAY OF JUDGMENT.

The day of Christ; the last, the dreadful day;
When thou, and I, and all the world shall come
Before his judgment-seat, to hear their doom
For ever and for ever: and when they,
Who lov'd not God, far, far from him away
Shall go:—but whither banish'd?—and with whom?—
And they, who lov'd him, shall be welcom'd home
To God, and Christ, and heav'n, and heav'n's array,
Angels and saints made perfect.—May the scene
Of that dread day be always present here,
Here in my heart! that every day between,
Which brings my passage to the goal more near,
May find me fitter, by his love made clean,
Before his throne of justice to appear!

REST IN CHRIST.

Hail, heavenly voice, once heard in Patmos! “Write,
Henceforth the dead who die in Christ are blest:
Yea, saith the Spirit, for they now shall rest
From all their labours!” But no dull dark night
That rest o'ershadows: 'tis the day-spring bright
Of bliss; the foretaste of a richer feast;
A sleep, if sleep it be, of lively zest,
Peopled with visions of intense delight.
And though the secrets of that resting-place
The soul imbodied knows not; yet she knows,
No sin is there God's likeness to deface,
To stint his love no purgatorial woes;
Her dross is left behind, nor mixture base
Mars the pure stream of her serene repose.

HEAVEN.

The pleasant garden, and the crystal stream,
The tree of life which bears on every bough
Fruits fit for joy or healing; on the brow,
Of glorious gold a living diadem;
The thrones which blaze with many a radiant gem;
The branching palms; the raiment white as snow:
Are these the joys that heaven's abodes bestow?
Or may they rather earth-form'd figures seem
Of heavenly bliss?—To me it matters not,
If I but reach the mark, whate'er the prize
Of God's high calling. Be content that what
Is told, is told us by the only Wise:
And blest, supremely blest, must be the lot,
Which Christ hath purchas'd, and which God supplies.

HEAVENLY JOYS.

O for the Christian's prize! to reign in bliss,
Unceasing, pure, complete; to feel no sting
Of death, sin, care, or sorrow; life's fresh spring
To drink, and own the heart's sweet charities,
A soul by Jesus cleans'd, and framed like his
A body glorious; evermore to sing
With saints and angels the thrice Holy King,
To see his face, and know him as he is,
Truth, wisdom, greatness, love! But one brief word
Concentrates all in its capacious span;
'Tis heaven; the abode by God himself prepar'd
For those that love him. Mete it as you can,
Nor eye that bliss hath seen, nor ear hath heard,
Nor dwells such rapture in the heart of man.

THE BODY GLORIFIED.

'Tis night: behold, as if by death opprest,
The sun his rays in gloom sepulchral hide!
'Tis day: behold, with renovated pride,
In the magnificence of morning drest,
The sun, rejoicing, lift his orient crest,
A bridegroom issuing forth to meet his bride!
Thus, like the sun, beneath the ocean tide,
The Christian seeks the chamber of his rest;
Thus, like the sun, to rise!—But not the same
Shall rise, as when his mortal course was run:
To that unearthly, pure, ethereal frame,
That robe of amaranthine radiance spun,
No nearer likeness this vile form may claim,
Than glimmering star-light to yon glorious sun.

THE INSECT TRANSFORMED.

Have you not seen how pent in narrow room,
From leaf to leaf the worm-like insect creeps?
Have you not seen, how undistinguish'd sleeps
That insect, girded by its death-like tomb?
Till, bursting forth in vernal beauty's bloom,
Quick into life the winged wonder leaps,
Sports in the sun, the flower, the brooklet sips,
Broider'd with brightest tints from nature's loom?
So man, within his being's narrow ring,
Crawls on his kindred earth: so down he lies
In wintry slumber wrapt: in life's new spring
Again, no more a grovelling worm, to rise;
But, seraph-like, to soar on radiant wing,
And quaff delight mid heav'n's unclouded skies.

THE SPIRIT SANCTIFIED.

Most wise meseems it, of that unseen state
Whate'er in bounty God vouchsafes to show,
Moral or intellectual, there to throw
The inquiring eye, thereon to meditate;
Think how the blest God's goodness emulate,
And how they “see him as he is,” and know
His essence, and to his resemblance grow.
In heaven the sons of God such changes wait,
To angels equall'd. Dost thou hope to win
That sonship, that high knowledge to secure,
And that divine similitude? Begin
On earth; acquaint thyself with God; inure
Thy thoughts to serve him like the cherubin,
And seek for pureness ev'n as He is pure.

THE ASSEMBLY AND CHURCH OF THE FIRST-BORN.

It were a goodly and a glorious sight,
The assembled Church from time's remotest age!
Priest, patriarch, ruler, lawgiver, and sage;
And they who soar'd the poet's lofty flight,
Psalmist or seer; or fought the Gospel fight,
God's truth proclaim'd, or stored the sacred page;
With all of less renown, who dared engage
Sin, and were conquerors in the Saviour's might.
Behold them there! They stand before the gate
(In heav'n their names are writ!) for entrance there
What time their Captain comes. Cast off the weight
That stays thy course; like them right onward bear,
So shalt thou swell with them their Leader's state,
Partake his triumph, and his banquet share.

THE ANGELS.

They are God's minist'ring spirits, and are sent,
His messengers of mercy, to fulfil
Good for salvation's heirs. For us they still
Grieve when we sin, rejoice when we repent:
And on the last dread day they shall present
The severed righteous at his holy hill,
With them God's face to see, to do his will,
And bear with them his likeness. Was it meant,
That we this knowledge should in secret seal,
Unthought of, unimproving? Rather say,
God deign'd to man his angel hosts reveal,
That man might learn like angels to obey;
And those, who long their bliss in heaven to feel,
Might strive on earth to serve him ev'n as they.

GOD'S PRESENCE IN HEAVEN.

Yes, 'tis God's presence gives the welcomed blest
Their joy and bliss supreme. With him to dwell,
To see his glory, and his praises tell,
To copy him of perfectness possest,
The Holy, Holy, Holy! First and best
Of joys, fruition's base and pinnacle;
Without him, heav'n would more resemble hell,
Darkness with him were light, and labour rest.
God of my health, show me the way to bliss,
The way to Thee! Who slight thy proffer'd grace,
Sin is their portion now, at last the abyss
Of woe. Thy image in my soul replace,
That I may serve thee here in time; nor miss,
When time shall fail, the brightness of thy face!

GOD'S PRAISES IN HEAVEN.

Methought I heard a voice to heav'n's high King
Shout “Allelujah!” From a host it came,
A countless number, which no man can name,
Of God's redeem'd, attemper'd to the string
Of harpers harping with their harps, that ring
Symphonious: “Worthy is the Great I AM,
Who us created; worthy is the Lamb,
Who died to save us:” and again they sing,
“Salvation, Allelujah!” Then I thought,
With such celestial song what earthborn lays
Of meaner theme may vie, too oft o'erfraught
With vice or folly? May heaven's concert raise
Heav'nward my thoughts and hopes, till, thither brought,
I hear and join in that immortal praise!

PRAISE TO GOD FOR HEAVEN REVEALED.

As God of old his people's promised reign
To Moses show'd afar from Pisgah's hill,
The vine-clad mountain, and the crystal rill,
City, and goodly field, and palm-tree plain,
And Jordan's flood, and Judah's utmost main:
So to his servants' eyes he proffers still,
As in a map which they may scan who will,
Their promised lot, their Canaan's rich domain.
Praised be our bounteous God! and praised the more,
That we herein are more than Moses blest!
He with his eyes beheld, but went not o'er
To tread the land by Israel's sons possest:
To us God gives his promise to explore,
To us to enter on his promised rest.

HEAVEN REFLECTED.

On Sinai's mount, on God's appointed place,
When Israel's leader ceas'd to talk with God,
Israel with awe beheld him, for there glow'd
Jehovah's splendour on his servant's face.
So they, on Sion's mount who love to trace
His lineaments in blissful vision show'd,
Their hearts, through joy of that divine abode,
Reflect the brightness of celestial grace.
The fruit bespeaks its soil. Angelick food
Sweetens man's nature; and cherubick lyres
Tune him to cherubs' notes. The soul, imbued
With heavenly thoughts, to heavenly things aspires:
And, in the mirror of God's Gospel view'd,
Seeks to transcribe the image she admires.

THE PROSPECT OF HEAVEN A MOTIVE TO EXERTION.

Wouldest thou the mansions of the blest attain,
(As who would not, for who would fain refuse
Blessing and life, and death and evil choose?)
Look upward, eyes and heart, to yon bright fane
On that sky-piercing mount, and tow'rd it strain
With loins well girt, and on thy feet the shoes
Of Gospel preparation! God endues
With strength who seek his face, but spare not pain
Meanwhile and toil to boot. Thou on the gate
Fix firm thy gaze, nor heed the lure that lies
On right, on left, to tempt thee from the straight
And onward path. Mark well the proffer'd prize,
Strive, win and wear it! Shame and sorrow wait
On feeble feet, faint heart, and wavering eyes.

EARTH IS NOT THE CHRISTIAN'S HOME.

Earth is no home of thine! A pilgrim thou
Art, journeying onward to thine own abode,
Thy proper resting-place. The inn, the road,
Each common traveller's haunts, thy sojourn now,
And now another's, these wilt thou allow
The love to challenge to thy homestead ow'd?
There shall thy heart be set, thy care bestow'd,
Scope of thy morning toil, thy evening vow?
God hath proclaim'd man's dwelling place above,
That man his thoughts may elevate to high
And holy things, which no corruption prove,
Fit for immortal souls. Beyond the sky
Thy home is fix'd: thereon be fix'd thy love,
Nor seek from earth what earth can ne'er supply!

THE MOURNER COMFORTED.

“Blessed are they that mourn, for they shall find
Comfort and joy!” Though flesh and blood rebel
'Gainst heaven-ward thoughts, and the vext spirit swell
With anxious tossings, still, the veil behind
Of earth-born mists, the faith-directed mind,
Sees thron'd in cloudless light the Invisible,
At whose right hand delights in fulness dwell,
And bliss for everlasting. Be resign'd,
Thou child of sorrow, to his sovereign will;
Drink as he bids, the bitter cup, and bear
Thy cross in patience! From the holy hill
A gleam shall cheer thee, till, safe-harbour'd there,
Thou feel how faintly earth's severest ill
May with the weight of heavenly joys compare!

THE SINNER DISQUALIFIED FOR HEAVEN.

Who, think'st thou, in the courts of heaven reside?
They, who with malice burn, with envy pine,
Ply the full feast and quaff the midnight wine,
Loose pleasure's daughters, and the sons of pride?
They who from meek affliction turn aside,
Its plaints unheard; and bow at Mammon's shrine,
Moloch's or Bel's; and, blind to truth divine,
Neglect God's mercy, and his power deride?
If such heaven's inmates, well thou runn'st thy race,
Man of the world! But ah! let conscience tell,
If holy hearts the holy city grace,
What part hast thou therein; and ponder well,
Yea, ponder well betimes that other place,
And who its tenants, and with whom they dwell.

HELL.

To close the eyes on earth; to wake in hell,
And lift them up in torments, mid the pains,
Deep curses, loud laments, and penal chains
Of those who dar'd against their God rebel,
The Great, the Good, and from their station fell
Of glory and bliss; with them, where darkness reigns,
Where the worm dies not, and the fire remains
Unquench'd, mid everlasting flames to dwell!—
Whose is that lot, thou knowest. God undid
The veil which screens his dreadfulness, that so
Man might be warn'd and fear. What pangs are hid
Beneath that lot, those sights and sounds of woe,
Thou know'st not yet, nor canst thou. God forbid
Thou e'er by feeling shouldst their anguish know!

THE HOLY CITY.

O! 'tis a glorious city! passing ken
Of eye, and stretch of thought! earth's cities glow
With no such lustre, nor such riches show.
Holiness is its name. Each citizen
Is pure and holy. There with sainted men,
Purg'd from the native dross of earth below,
And spirits whose natures no pollution know,
God dwells, and He who once for man was slain,
The Lamb all-spotless. Who a post would hold
Therein, by him must thitherward be trod
The path of holiness. That chosen fold
Defilement enters not. And lo, in broad
Letters of light its charter is inrolled,
“None but the pure in heart shall see their God.”

THANKS TO GOD FOR THE GIFT OF HEAVEN.

Who to man's sight unfolds the bliss above?
Who on lost man bestows that blissful prize?
Who bids the musing spirit thither rise,
The heart desire it, and the mind approve?
Who, when the wayward thoughts to distance rove,
Recalls them home, and points them to the skies?
Who gives the terms, and strength withal supplies
To heed and keep them? He whose name is love.
He sent, from heaven's adoring hosts among,
His Son to save us: He to heavenly rest
Invites his saved. O, be his bounty sung,
To him be glory, thanks, and praise addrest:
The loud Hosanna of the tuneful tongue,
The deep still homage of the thoughtful breast!

KNOWLEDGE OF EACH OTHER IN HEAVEN.

I count the hope no day-dream of the mind,
No vision fair of transitory hue,
The souls of those, whom once on earth we knew,
And lov'd, and walk'd with in communion kind,
Departed hence, again in heav'n to find.
Such hope to nature's sympathies is true;
And such, we deem, the holy word to view
Unfolds, an antidote for grief design'd,
One drop from comfort's well. 'Tis thus we read
The Book of life: but if we read amiss,
By God prepar'd fresh treasures shall succeed
To kinsmen, fellows, friends, a vast abyss
Of joy; nor aught the longing spirit need,
To fill its measure of enormous bliss.

SORROW NOT WITHOUT HOPE.

Weep for the dead! God bids you not restrain,
What nature claims, affection's soothing tear.
But weep, like Christian mourners! Tho' the bier
Bear him away to death's obscure domain,
Yet he with you, who still on earth remain,
The summons of the Archangel's voice shall hear;
And he with you before the Lord appear,
Soar to the clouds, and meet you there again.
Weep then, but do not as the hopeless weep,
For them who rest in Christ! A common prize
Awaits both them, and you, and all who keep
His truth, and love His coming in the skies.
They, in the Saviour who or wake or sleep,
Shall all united in the Saviour rise.

THE CHRISTIAN PASTOR'S JOY IN HIS FLOCK.

'Tis sweet to feel the waking consciousness
Of home-bred rapture in the pensive mind:
'Tis sweet to think, that those, whom God hath join'd
With us in love, the like enjoyments bless:
But still more sweet the joy our hearts confess,
To see ourselves by Providence design'd
Stewards of good, where those we love may find
The means and channel of their blessedness.
Such, Christian pastor, is thy heart's delight,
To serve thy God, and see thy people share
His service, led by thee: with them how bright
Thy joy to come, let holy Paul declare;
A joy, a glory, and a crown of light,
Which kings might envy and exult to wear

THE REWARD OF CHRISTIAN BENEVOLENCE.

Remove the seal from thy compassion's spring,
And let the water for the pilgrims flow
Of the world's waste, the sons of want and woe!
Though their exhausted frame affliction wring;
And hunger, thirst, and nakedness, the sting
Of sharp disease, and bitter bonds they know;
They are the “brethren,” he to call them so
Vouchsafes, the brethren of thy Lord and King.
A day shall come, when thou before his throne
Those sons of woe with lively thoughts must see
Of joy or anguish. Then shall far be shewn
The alms in secret done; and publickly
A voice proclaim, “Each act of mercy, done
To these my brethren, has been done to me.”

THE RE-UNION OF FRIENDS IN HEAVEN.

There is a void in lorn affection's heart,
Which yearns to be supplied. On God's high will
Though it repose submissively, yet still
Of those, who bore in its regards a part,
The cherished forms it holds, as in a chart
Depicted, hoping He may yet fulfil
Their restitution. Pardon it if ill
Lurk in that hope, Great Father! True thou art;
Thou sayest the just shall bliss in fulness prove,
And, what thou sayest, thy bounty will provide:
And yet meseems the blissful souls above,
The sense of earth's sweet charities denied,
Might feel a craving in those realms of love,
By angel hosts and patriarchs unsupplied.

CHARITY NEVER FAILETH.

What joy more pure, or worthier of our kind,
Than when the good, the wise, the pious meet,
By bond of kindred, love, or friendship sweet
Link'd in a fellowship of heart and mind,
And rivalry of worth! Nor shall they find
More joy from ought in that celestial seat,
Save from God's presence, than again to greet
Each other's spirits, there to dwell combin'd
In brotherhood of love. The golden tie
Dissolv'd, again unites. Ordain'd to train
Earth's tenants for their dwelling in the sky,
Faith lost in sight, and hope in joy, shall wane,
Their task fulfill'd; but heaven-born charity,
God's greatest gift, shall still in heaven remain.

THE CHANGED BODY RECOGNISED.

And shall I e'er again thy features trace,
Beloved friend; thy lineaments review?
Yes: though the sunken eyes, and livid hue,
And lips comprest, have quenched each lively grace,
Death's triumph; still I recognise the face
Which thine for many a year affection knew:
And what forbids, that, cloth'd with life anew,
It still on memory's tablet hold its place?—
Tho' then thy cheek with deathless bloom be sheen,
And rays of splendour wreathe thy sunlike brow,
That change I deem shall sever not between
Thee and thy former self; nor disallow
That love's tried eyes discern thee through the skreen
Of glory then, as of corruption now.

HEAVEN'S BLISS NOT AFFECTED BY THOUGHTS OF HELL.

Fear not, the prospect of the realms of woe
Shall mar thy bliss, or thence sad thoughts arise
To blunt thy sense of heavenly ecstasies.
There, if thy heart with warm devotion glow
Meet for thy place, 'twill solace thee to know
No friend of thine, 'mid those keen agonies,
In that dark prison-house of torment lies;
For none is there but is of God the foe,
An Alien thus from thee. The ties of blood,
And earth's most sacred bonds, are but a twine
Of gossamer, compar'd with what is ow'd
To Him, the Lord of all! On Him recline;
He shall thy heart of every care unload,
He bid thy day with cloudless lustre shine.

HEAVEN'S JOYS PERFECT.

'Tis naught but bliss in that celestial seat!
Where God, essential good, resides, and where
Thron'd with the Lamb he deigns his joy prepare
For those that love Him, floods of pleasure meet.
The deep delight of that secure retreat
No uncongenial thoughts annoy; nor care,
Nor pain, nor grief, but bliss alone is there,
Pure, undisturb'd, undimm'd, divinely sweet.
Pure as the snow that lies on Lebanon,
Wreath above wreath in virgin brightness pil'd;
Calm as yon lake, when not a breath hath blown
On its clear crystal; cloudless as the mild
Moonlight, o'er heav'n a robe of silver thrown;
Sweet as the slumber of a sinless child.

THE AMBITIOUS DISCIPLES.

Rash was the tongue, and unadvisedly bold,
Which sought, Salome, for thy favour'd twain
Above their fellows in Messiah's reign
On right, on left, the foremost place to hold.
More rash perhaps, and bolder, that which told
Of pow'r the Saviour's bitter cup to drain,
And, passing stretch of human strength, sustain
His bath baptismal. Lord, by thee enroll'd
Thy servant, grant me thy Almighty grace,
My destin'd portion of thy griefs to bear,
Ev'n what thou wilt! But chiefly grant, thy face
Within thy glory's realm to see, where'er
Most meet thy wisdom deems; whate'er the place,
It must be blest, for thou, my God, art there.

DEGREES OF HEAVENLY HAPPINESS.

If loftier posts superior state declare;
More virtuous acts if ampler meeds requite;
If brightest crowns on noblest prowess light,
And well-sown fields a fuller harvest bear;
If thrones, dominions, princedoms, powers there are,
Which God's inferior hosts excel in might;
If day's bright orb outshine the lamp of night,
And Hesper's radiance the remotest star:
Then shall the younger brethren of the sky,
If right I scan the records of their fate,
In varied ranks of social harmony
God's mount encircle. Glorious is the state
Ev'n of the lowest there: but seats more nigh
The Sovereign's throne his greater servants wait.

CONFORMITY TO CHRIST'S EXAMPLE, THE WAY TO HIS GLORY.

Seek thou the image of the Lord to share,
And thou shalt share his glory! If the will
Of God require thee thy heart's blood to spill
For him, a willing martyr; or to bear
Thy cross, thro' sickness, penury, and care,
And drink affliction's cup: or thro' the still
Calm vale thy course of righteousness fulfil,
And his mild yoke in love and pureness wear:
Hold fast the Great Exemplar!—Blest are they
Who stem serenely the world's uproar wild,
Nor fears dishearten them, nor pains dismay:
Nor they less blessed, who, humbly as a child,
Far from the world pursue their blameless way,
And by the world's allurements undefiled.

HAPPINESS PREPARED OF THE FATHER FOR CHRIST'S DISCIPLES.

God for his own elect prepares a throne
Of glorious brightness: what the Sire prepares,
The Son bestows; so strict an union theirs,
In nature, substance, will, and actions one.
Would'st thou that throne of glory make thy own?
Purge off each earthly passion, that impairs
Thy heavenly likeness; to salvation's heirs
Perform the angels' part; and in the Son
Love God! The pure, the merciful, the meek,
The poor in spirit, and the rich in love,
Are his delight, his children. Such bespeak
The holy influence of the mystick Dove:
Such best below his heavenly kingdom seek,
Such come most near Him in the realm above.

THE CHRISTIAN'S AIM.

Aim at the highest prize: if there thou fail,
Thou'lt haply reach to one not far below.
Strive first the goal to compass: if too slow
Thy speed, the attempt may ne'ertheless avail
The next best post to conquer. Let not quail
Eye, heart, or limb; but still right onward go:
The Judge shall heed thee, and a crown bestow,
And bid thy name the loud-voic'd herald hail.
To the wish'd mark one racer only came
Of old victorious: to intwine his brow
One only grasp'd the crown, and won the game,
Isthmian or proud Olympian. Happier thou
Pursu'st thy course with no uncertain aim,
Secure to seize an amaranthine bough.

CHRISTIAN AMBITION.

“Ambition is the vice of noble souls!”
If 'tis a vice, then let those souls beware,
Thrice noble tho' they be, and passing fair
In the world's eye, and high upon the scrolls,
Her favour'd minions where the world inrolls,
Lest it conduct to shame! Be thine the care,
Soldier of Christ, that nobler strife to dare,
Which the rash spirit of the world controls,
And makes ambition virtue! Be it thine
To win thy bright unfading diadem
By works of love!—Around his brows shall shine
In heaven from glory's source the purest beam,
Whose aspect here, with beauty most divine,
Reflects the image of the Good Supreme.

MUSINGS ON THE CHURCH AND HER SERVICES.

I. TO MY COUNTRY'S CHURCH.

As oft on thee, my country's Church, I muse,
Thy form apostolick, thy scripture creed,
Devotions pure, and rites divine, the seed
Of heavenly graces, with what else may use
The aspiring soul the better part to choose;
I marvel much and grieve that aught should breed
Ill thoughts of thee in Christian men, by deed
Or word to mar thy beauty and refuse
Thy chaste communion. Yes, my early vow
Was thine, and still thy sanctuaries I've trod
With honest zeal. Accept this tribute now
Of filial love, to thee, My Mother, owed!
The stay and pillar of God's truth art thou,
And thou the temple of the living God.

II. THE CHURCH APOSTOLICK.

Some are there, nam'd of Christ, who think they see
His power conferr'd on one vicegerent man:
And some, who deem the scheme republican
More near akin to Christian liberty:
And some, who, as by light of history
The scripture records of God's will they scan,
From times primeval mark the self-same plan,
Which still prevails, my country's Church in thee,
Of Bishops, Priests, and Deacons.—Peace to all,
Who serve their God in love and faith sincere,
Howe'er they serve him! each must stand or fall
To his own Lord. For me, with godly fear
And awe I listen to my Saviour's call,
And here I seek, and trust I find him here.

III. TRUE KNOWLEDGE.

What is True Knowledge?—Is it with keen eye
Of lucre's sons to thread the mazy way?
Is it of civick rights, and royal sway,
And wealth political, the depths to try?
Is it to delve the earth, or soar the sky?
To marshal nature's tribes in just array?
To mix, and analyse, and mete, and weigh
Her elements, and all her powers descry?—
These things, who will may know them, if to know
Breed not vain glory. But o'er all to scan
God, in his works and word shown forth below;
Creation's wonders, and Redemption's plan;
Whence came we, what to do, and whither go:—
This is True Knowledge, and “the whole of man.”

IV. THE NAME OF GOD.

Choose we a title, which may best beseem
The world's Creator! Shall his name declare
The power which made all living things that are?
The providence, whose eye's unerring beam
Sees all things at a glance, that naught may seem
Or dark or distant? The protecting care,
Which sleep impedes not, nor can time impair?
Or, sovereign over all, the will supreme?—
Well judg'd our Saxon fathers. To their sense
Appear'd the self-existing One indued
With all his nature's dread magnificence.
On all with awe they gaz'd; but most they viewed
With deep delight his moral excellence,
Their being's source and stay, and call'd him “Good.”

V. THE WORKS OF GOD.

Trace nature's course; each step the Maker tells!
His majesty the glorious heavens declare;
His all-pervading breath the expanded air;
The roaring sea his might, which hers excels;
Earth and her sons, each vein with life that swells,
Sentient or senseless, his providing care,
Wise, powerful, good, which form'd them as they are,
And still preserves: a host of miracles,
Unnumber'd, vast, unceasing! Look around!
Look to thyself, thy frame, thy soul: the sign,
Where'er thou look'st, of reasoning power is found,
Forecasting will, intelligent design;
Deem nature not their author; nor confound
With his own laws the Lawgiver divine.

VI. GOD'S PROVIDENCE.

Father of all, the powerful and the good!
To thee the fowls of air for succour cry:
No seed-time theirs, nor well-stored granary,
But thou sustain'st them with their daily food.
Nor less thy plants, a well-robed multitude,
Which spring to wither, and are born to die,
The field-flow'rs grow beneath thy fostering eye,
With beauty, passing royal pomp, indued.
Father of all! On thee I cast my care,
By doubts distracted, and by fears distrest!
O, grant me strength thy righteous yoke to bear,
Thy will to do, on thy support to rest!
Whate'er we need, thy bounty will not spare
Those lower gifts, if first we seek the best.

VII. THE BOOK OF GOD.

The Book of God! And is there then a book
Which on its front that awful title bears?
Who hold it, what high duty must be theirs,
And what high privilege, therein to look,
To read, mark, learn, digest! But in this nook
Of earth pent up, and blinded by earth's cares,
Its hopes and joys, if man the treasure dares
To scorn, such scorn shall the great Author brook!—
How long'd the holy men and prophets old
God's truth to see! How blest, whom He hath will'd
To see his truth in his own book inroll'd!
Pure is the Book of God, with sweetness fill'd:
More pure than massive unadulterate gold,
More sweet than honey from the rock distill'd.

VIII. THE LAW.

He spake in thunder, making the heart quail
Of conscious Israel, when from Sinai's height
God gave his Law! And well might deep affright
The soul appal: for who, by nature frail,
Could do his bidding? Yet beneath the veil
Of shadowy type, and sacrificial rite,
And lofty prophecy, the illumin'd sight
Might far off scenes of better promise hail.
Revere its voice; 'tis “holy, just, and good:”
But look not there for pardon, nor confide
To 'scape its curse! 'Twas given, that flesh and blood
Might stand condemn'd, by that tribunal tried:
And, by the standard of God's justice view'd,
Man see his weakness, and forego his pride.

IX. THE GOSPEL.

'Twas musick's voice, and thus the descant ran,
“Glory to God,” what time to Bethlehem's fold
The Saviour's birth the angelick anthem told,
“On earth be peace, benevolence to man!”
And He, who then his earthly course began,
What did He else but that sweet hymn unfold,
A lovely sight for angels to behold,
And men to copy?—Duly as ye can
Transcribe the pattern! What the Law austere
Gave not, the Gospel gives: by truth portray'd
Life's perfect model; and the radiance clear
Of brighter light; and stronger grace to aid;
And hope, the debtor's prison-house to cheer,
The debt all cancell'd, and the ransom paid.

X. SCRIPTURE DIFFICULTIES.

Yes, 'tis a mine of precious jewelry,
The Book of God; a well of streams divine!
But who would wish the riches of that mine
To make his own; his thirst to satisfy
From that pure well; must ear, eye, soul, apply;
On precept precept scan, and line on line;
Search, ponder, sift, compare, divide, combine,
For truths that oft beneath the surface lie.
Yes; there are things, which he who runs may read:
Nor few there are, which yield a harder part,
To mark, discern, and know. With cautious heed,
'Tis God's command, survey thy safety's chart;
Lest arduous things, distorted, death-ward lead
The mind unlearned, and the unstable heart .

XI. SCRIPTURE GUIDES.

“How can I sound the depths of sacred lore
Without the guidance of a friendly hand ?”
Such Candour's meek confession, as he scann'd
Thy volume, Seer evangelick, of yore.
And Candour still, 'mid truth's exhaustless store,
Will own his powers unapt to understand
Much of God's word untaught. 'Twas Christ's command,
His preacher's voice the sound of truth should pour
On listening ears; “and I with you remain
Till the world's end!” And tho' the world to turn
From sin, his truth in one recorded strain
Subsist, for living lips the many yearn
Their guides; and He, who works nor wills in vain,
Still wills that some should teach and some should learn,

XII. THE LORD'S DAY.

Hail to the day, which He, who made the heaven,
Earth, and their armies, sanctified and blest,
Perpetual memory of the Maker's rest!
Hail to the day, when He, by whom was given
New life to man, the tomb asunder riven,
Arose! That day his Church hath still confest,
At once Creation's and Redemption's feast,
Sign of a world call'd forth, a world forgiven.
Welcome that day, the day of holy peace,
The Lord's own day! to man's Creator owed,
And man's Redeemer; for the soul's increase
In sanctity, and sweet repose bestow'd;
Type of the rest, when sin and care shall cease,
The rest remaining for the lov'd of God!

XIII. GOD'S SABBATH.

Call'd by the Church, before God's holy shrine,
Oft as the Sabbath-morn with sacred ray
Warns me his courts to tread, I humbly pray,
That for time past forgiveness may be mine,
Whene'er I've err'd, and he will still incline
My heart no more from his command to stray;
But holy keep and unprofan'd the day,
First blest and hallow'd by the voice divine.
Are there who deem a less commanding law
Alone gives sanction to the Christian's rest?
Be theirs their fond conceit! Be mine to draw
The mind to reverence, by God's Church confest,
His own commandment: and with holy awe
Revere the day by man's Creator blest!

XIV. THE HOUSE OF GOD.

It is the Sabbath bell which calls to pray'r,
Ev'n to the House of God, the hallow'd dome,
Where he, who claims it, bids his people come,
To bow before his throne, and serve him there
With pray'rs, and thanks, and praises. Some there are
Who hold it meet to linger now at home;
And some o'er fields and the wide hills to roam,
And worship in the temple of the air!
For me, not heedless of the lone address,
Nor slack to greet my Maker on the height,
By wood, or living stream; yet not the less
Seek I his presence in each social rite
Of his own temple: that he deigns to bless,
There still he dwells, and there is his delight.

XV. SOCIAL WORSHIP.

There is a joy, which angels well may prize;
To see, and hear, and aid God's worship, when
Unnumber'd tongues, a host of Christian men,
Youths, matrons, maidens join. Their sounds arise,
“Like many waters:” now glad symphonies
Of thanks and glory to our God; and then,
Seal of the social pray'r, the loud Amen!
Faith's common pledge; contrition's mingled cries.
Thus, when the Church of Christ was hale and young,
She call'd on God, one spirit and one voice:
Thus from corruption cleans'd, with health new strung,
Her sons she nurtur'd. O, be theirs the choice,
What duty bids, to worship heart and tongue,
At once to pray, at once in God rejoice!

XVI. SPIRITUAL COMMUNION.

O, it is full of joy and pleasantness,
The sabbath bell, which to God's house of pray'r
On God's own day his people bids repair;
Aid at his throne to seek, their sins confess,
To speak his praises, and his bounty bless,
And hear his holy word! For with them there
God dwells, and gives them through his Son to share
Health from the Spirit of his blessedness.
But grieve not thou, as if from grace divine
Secluded, nor thy loss too deeply rue,
Whom needful cause, not choice, forbids to join
The great assembly! With devotion true
Be thou in spirit there, and doubt not thine
Shall be a part of God's celestial dew.

XVII. THE CATHEDRAL.

Oft on the hallow'd piles I love to gaze,
Which our forefathers built: whether the round
Deep arch, and massive pillars quaintly crown'd,
Of Norman grandeur; or, of home-born praise,
The lighter forms which grac'd Plantagenet's days,
High-pointed vault, and shafts in clusters bound:
Or where the trellis'd net-work richly wound
O'er Tudor's roofs and low-brow'd portals strays.
Gaze on them! They are worthy, and declare
A brave munificence! Nor let thy heart
Indulge the niggard thought, that aught is there
Of vain profusion. Noble was the art,
And nobly us'd, which gave their God to share
From his own gifts a large and liberal part.

XVIII. CHORAL SERVICE.

And well I love the organ's notes to hear
Sounding aloud thro' all the sacred pile,
High altar, vaulted nave, and pillar'd aisle:
Link'd with that sound if voice of anthem clear
Alone, or chant alternate win the ear,
Or mingled swell of many tongues; the while
The high-roof'd tower, and arches' lessening file,
Send back the pealing thunder. Heav'n's blest sphere
Resounds with song and harpings: and I deem
The rich-ton'd organ and symphonious choir
Give taste of heaven. Devotion's self may seem
From musick's flame to catch a warmer fire;
And wafted by her breath, as on the steam
Of fragrant incense, to the skies aspire.

XIX. THE VILLAGE CHURCH.

Dear is the ancient Village Church, which rears
By the lone yew, on lime or elm-girt mound,
Its modest fabrick: dear, amid the sound
Of bells, the grey embattled tower, that wears
Of changeful hue the marks of by-gone years;
Buttress, and porch, and arch with mazy round
Of curious fret, or shapes fantastick, crown'd;
Tall pinnacles, and mingled window tiers,
Norman, or misnam'd Gothick. Fairer spot,
Thou giv'st not, England, to the tasteful eye,
Nor to the heart more soothing. Blest their lot,
Knew they their bliss, who own, their dwelling nigh,
Such resting place, there, by the world forgot,
In life to worship, and when dead to lie.

XX. PAROCHIAL SERVICE.

And dear it is, within the village fane
To go and worship! Simple tho' it be,
Whate'er of pray'r, or holy mystery
To cleanse or strengthen, God hath will'd ordain;
And priest, and sacred truth's unsullied strain,
Are here: nor wants there voice of psalmody,
Rude, but not coarse; then sweetest, when most free
From art, and led by yonder youthful train.
God owns the worship, which his laws approve,
Whether mid populous city, nor the less
In lonely hamlet. Lift thy heart above,
And prosper! He religion's costly dress
Rejects not, worn in meekness, faith, and love;
And he the lowlier village rites will bless.

XXI. THE CHURCH'S CEREMONIAL.

'Tis not that thou art robed in gorgeous sheen,
Thy native charms outshone by jewels' glare:
For one there is, that thus o'ersteps thee far,
Who sits upon her mountain, as a queen.
'Tis not that thou all unadorn'd art seen:
For, far beyond thee, some again there are,
Who count it beauty when they nothing wear,
Unclad, or clad in raiment poor and mean.
Not for such cause, lov'd Mother, I admire
Thy features, drest anew in elder days
By holy men: but that thy meet attire
Thy form with decent dignity arrays;
Where simple neatness, modest grace, conspire
To deck thy beauty to thy Sovereign's praise.

XXII. THE LORD'S PRAYER.

All thanks to Him, who taught us how to pray!
So taught we beg, our heavenly Father's name,
Dominion, will, may have their rightful claim,
Be hallow'd, serv'd, obey'd: that He each day
May give us needful food, and drive away
Unkindness, danger, sin; and thus proclaim
His kingdom, power, and glory. Do not blame,
If, whom she knows “the life, the truth, the way,”
On his blest word with reverential awe
And grateful faith the Church hath aye relied,
And led and modell'd by his perfect law
Her meek devotions! Lord, by thee supplied
With light, still near the throne of grace we draw,
Thy name our safeguard, and thy word our guide!

XXIII. THE APOSTLES' LITURGY.

If, by the rule Apostolick, to plead
For all that God holds good, and deprecate
What He holds evil; if with our estate
Our brother man's to blend, and intercede
For friend and foe, but chief that we may lead
In peace, and rul'd by God's crown'd delegate,
Lives pure and holy; if to dedicate
Thanks for past good with pray'r for present need;
Be welcome worship: then content with thee,
My country's Church, I join the voice to raise,
Collect, and psalm inspir'd, and litany,
And hymn of glory. Ever-varying phrase
God seeks not; pleas'd, when from corruption free,
And cloth'd with truth, his Church her homage pays.

XXIV. PRAYER IN CHRIST'S NAME.

Ask you perchance, the throne of grace before,
Why still her pray'rs the Church delights to frame
Of varied form, but gives to each the same
Essential closure? 'Tis that from his store
Of boundless bounties God delights to pour
All good on man in his Beloved's name.
Who prays for aught, in Christ must urge the claim:
Who calls on God, must by the Son adore
The Father. “Blessings of my Father seek,
Seek in my name, and have whate'er ye need !”
“Thank God for all things, but your praises speak
In Jesus' name !” Thou, who for us didst bleed,
On thee we cast us, worthless all and weak,
Thy might acknowledge, and thy merits plead.

XXV. DEVOUT WORSHIP.

Nay, sit not there unheedful, nor profane
With attitude of cold indifference
God's worship! Sighs of contrite penitence,
The lowly pray'r that seeks relief from pain,
The hymn of praise, thanksgiving's festive strain,
Claim they no seemlier posture? True; pretence
May mimick, but devotion's heartfelt sense
Devotion's guise will choose. The sainted train,
Apostles, psalmists, prophets; Lord of all,
The Prince of glory, when our form he wore,
With bended knees submissive stoop'd to call
To heaven's high King: yea, heaven's crown'd saints, before
The throne of God, in sign of worship fall,
Their crowns cast off, and prostrate there adore.

XXVI. THE CHRISTIAN'S BELIEF.

What God for man's instruction deigns reveal,
His guide to truth, and love, and holiness,
We hold that man should hear, believe, confess;
Not slight, nor spurn, nor thanklessly conceal
The heavenly treasure; but with earnest zeal
Strive for the faith, before the Church express
His hope assur'd of promis'd blessedness,
And with his lips his heart's persuasion seal.
On those, who sunk in heathen darkness pine,
No doom we dare pronounce. But Christian light
Brings Christian duties. Where the sunbeams shine
Of Gospel truth, who wish for heav'n's delight,
Must own and serve the tri-une name divine,
And plead for health the incarnate Godhead's might.

XXVII. PSALMODY.

Are sounds of musick heard among the blest?
And does in heav'n the Church triumphant raise,
Circling the throne of God, the voice of praise?
Well may her voice on earth, ere she her rest
From warfare gain, be thus to God addrest:
While Sion's songs, the Psalmist's heav'n taught lays,
And hymns, the first-fruits of the Gospel days,
Her thanks, and joy, and holy hopes attest.
There are, whose voice by strains less sweet is shar'd.
Me the pure songs, by Siloa's echoes caught,
Suffice. Nor deem I that the pledg'd regard,
To thee, my Mother, ow'd, permits us aught,
But what thou vouchest! song of gifted bard,
Rich in God's truth, and by his Spirit taught.

XXVIII. THE CHURCH-YARD.

As by the Church-yard yew my evening way
I take, and meditate the sacred muse,
To catch thy notes my ears unbidden use,
Sweet Elegist, sublimely solemn Gray!
Yet ah! thy pensive moralising lay
Were to my heart more grateful, if thy views,
Profusely rich in earth's autumnal hues,
Show'd more of heaven's enlivening vernal day.
“The paths of glory lead but to the grave”—
Lo, from the grave fresh paths of glory rise!
Reviving thence the “flower” shall breathe and wave
With purer sweetness and with lovelier dyes;
And the bright “gem,” releas'd from ocean's cave,
Adorn with sun-like ray its kindred skies.

XXIX. THE TOMB-STONES.

From stone to stone my eyes successive roam,
And note what tenants underneath them lie.
Each sex is here; all ages, infancy
To second childhood: some the stately tomb,
Some hold the osier'd earth's contracted room,
Signs of their former fortunes: low and high,
All ranks and states of earth's society,
All earthly kindreds, find a common home.
Hark, from the grave with still small voice they call,
And thus the moral of their stories preach!
“We all were born, we lived, we died, and all
Shall rise to judgment. How on earth by each
His task was done, and what shall each befall,
Inquire not now; that day alone can teach!”

XXX. CHURCH BELLS.

What varied sounds from yon grey pinnacles
Sweep o'er the ear, and claim the heart's reply!
Now the blithe peal of home festivity,
Natal or nuptial, in full concert swells:
Now the brisk chime, or voice of alter'd bells,
Speaks the due hour of social worship nigh:
And now the last stage of mortality,
The deep dull toll with lingering warning tells.
How much of human life those sounds comprise;
Birth, wedded love, God's service, and the tomb!
Not heard in vain, if thence kind feelings rise,
Such as befit our being, free from gloom
Monastick; pray'r, that communes with the skies;
And musings mindful of the final doom.

XXXI. THE VILLAGE CLOCK.

Hark, 'tis the Village clock! It bids the swain,
As breaks the morning, to his labour haste
A-field: and now the hour of noon's repast
The glad stroke tells, short season to remain,
For the next note of time is heard again
Sign of returning toil, until at last
It's welcome sound bespeaks the day is past,
And sends him home releas'd from care and pain,
Till the next morning dawn. Thus hour by hour,
And day by day, time creeps unresting by,
Mark'd by the sound from the low village tower,
Our work-day's guide; on days, beyond that lie,
Note we meanwhile its everlasting power,
For time's the passport to eternity.

XXXII. THE PARSONAGE.

See you that house beneath the church-topp'd hill?
An elm o'erhangs the porch, and round it twine
The honey-suckle and sweet eglantine:
And there the mullion'd windows linger still,
Reliques of elder days, the moulded sill,
And pointed arch, where creeps the cluster'd vine:
And flowers, and fruits, and well-trimm'd turf combine
To show domestick taste and rural skill.
There lives the Village Pastor! Mark him there!
From weightier duties for a season freed
Of books and pastoral calls, his willing care
The garden claims, to check the trailing weed,
And prune the fruit branch. Breathe a passing pray'r,
And bid the good man and his works “God speed!”

XXXIII. THE MAN OF GOD.

He's Christ's ambassador, that man of God,
Steward of God's own mysteries! From on high
His warrant is: his charge, aloud to cry
And spread his Master's attributes abroad,
His works, his ark of mercy, and his rod
Of justice; his, to sinners to supply
The means of grace, and point how they may fly
Hell-flames, and how heaven's pathway must be trod.
Hold him in honour on his works' account,
And on his Master's! Though a man he be,
And with his flock partake corruption's fount,
Holy and reverend is his ministry:
And, hark! a voice sounds from the heavenly mount,
“He, that despiseth you, despiseth me!”

XXXIV. THE GOSPEL MINISTRY.

How beautiful upon the mountain's head ,
Like “the bright morning-star, day's harbinger ,”
The feet of them, who to their country bear
News of release for slaves to bondage led!
How beautiful on Judah's hills the tread
Of feet to Sion sent, to minister
Good tidings of great joy, and cry to her,
“Joy, for her warfare is accomplished!”—
Still are ye beautiful, ye feet, that bring
On God's high embassage the authentick sign
Of peace. 'Tis yours, God's light abroad to fling,
That men may see his Glorious Gospel shine:
'Tis theirs to greet you heralds of heav'n's King,
Divine your mission, as your charge divine.

XXXV. THE PRIESTHOOD.

Take not the holy office, till the call
Of God has made thee, Aaron-like, be known
His minister! Tho' round thy loins be thrown
Zeal, as thou deem'st, to gird thee, and the pall
Of sanctity; yet not for these, for all
Thy private worth, does the great Master own
Thy Priesthood, till the honour'd claim be shown
By lawful charge and hands episcopal.
God is a God of order, nor approves
Confusion in his Church! What'er he wills,
He freely does, but still by laws he moves,
Laws of his own!—Among the vales and hills
Its stated course the heaven-fed river roves:
He marks its path, and he its channel fills.

XXXVI. THE INWARD CALL.

Who gives to man sufficiency? and whence
Proceed the holy wish, the good design,
The righteous deed, save from the source divine,
The Spirit of God?—If thine the heart-felt sense
Of holy love; if, cautious of offence,
Thine be the wish with knowledge meet to join
True zeal of God, and so to serve his shrine;
Fear not to own thy humble confidence,
God's Spirit moves thee to the work!—No bold
Presumptuous bearing, no intemperate flame,
No voice internal loud and uncontroll'd,
God or his Church expects; but the just aim
Sincere, to feed, not unprepar'd, his fold
With food celestial, and adorn his name.

XXXVII. PASTORAL STUDIES.

Who would teach others, first himself must learn
The lore he fain would teach them. Who would teach
High lore, surpassing human wisdom's reach,
For grace must beg God's wisdom to discern,
Nor fail God's sacred book by day to turn,
By night: yet think not 'twill God's pow'r impeach,
If weapons, meet to pierce the hidden speech,
He fetch from learning's armory, nor spurn
Aid from well-cultur'd reason. Truth divine
Comes not with light intuitive to guide
The man of God; tho', duly sought, 'twill shine
His polar star. Then may his vessel ride
In safety on: nor from its course decline
Astray, nor founder in the darkling tide.

XXXVIII. PASTORAL RECREATIONS.

What fitter, man of God, thy thoughts to share,
To charm, nor less improve, a vacant hour,
Than thy great Master's works?—The wild field-flower,
Insect or bird, that gaily wings the air,
And what earth holds of wonderful or fair,
Invite thee forth; to thread the coppice bower,
Pierce the deep glen, or climb the rocky tower,
Wave-hollow'd bank, thick wood, or mountain bare.
Rich is the volume of the word of God:
Rich is the volume of his works! At home
Be that; be this thy cherish'd search abroad!
Like Noah's dove, there see each fine-wrought plume
God's love attest: each plant, like Aaron's rod,
With signs of might and thought paternal bloom!

XXXIX. THE PREACHER.

Who would not choose the Preacher's words sincere,
Which truth unmaim'd and unadulterate deal
To willing ears and minds? With prudent zeal,
Temperate, tho' earnest; grave, but not austere;
Strong, without coarseness; without meanness, clear;
Firm, to denounce God's wrath; but meek to feel
For human frailty; pitiful, to heal
The wounded spirit, and the weak to rear
Gently with mild endurance! Wouldst thou find
Wild rhapsody, the gesture strange, the start
Ecstatick, apt the better sense to blind?
Go, elsewhere seek it! His the soberer part,
Like Paul to satisfy the reasoning mind,
And “draw by cords of man ” the obedient heart.

XL. PREACHING EVANGELICAL.

Say, what is Gospel-Preaching?—'Tis to show,
How from his Father's love by wilful deed
Man fell; and how, for ransom'd man to bleed,
The Son of God took in this world of woe
Our flesh, and quell'd by death our mortal foe:
And what his Spirit's aid; and whither lead
His laws; his means of grace; and what the meed
Of faith, matur'd by love; and what we owe
The Three in One! This knowledge, passing reach
Of man's device or angel's, broad and deep,
God by his Son deliver'd; this to teach
Mankind, he charg'd the shepherds of his sheep:
If man or angel other Gospel preach ,
He “sows the wind, and shall the whirlwind reap .”

XLI. PREACHING UN-EVANGELICAL.

“To shut the gates of mercy on mankind ,”
By God's mere will excluded, save a few,
Will they or not, who pass selected through;
To stint the stream of heavenly love; to bind
By strong necessity the human mind
To sin and endless woe; to hold to view
The God of all perfection, as untrue,
Unjust, unpardoning, pitiless, unkind:
Is this to preach the Gospel?—In thy word
Not such, great God, thy loving-mercy's call
These eyes o'erjoy'd have seen, these ears have heard.
Thy name is “love .” By our forefather's fall,
All sinn'd and died. Forgive me if I've err'd,
Deeming thy Son a ransom paid for all !

XLII. THE POOR MAN'S FRIEND.

“He was the poor man's friend! He sought and knew
Who needed succour, and would fain incline
His ear and hearken. From his care benign
The parent help, the child instruction true,
Deriv'd: on age a cheering gleam he threw:
The sick man's wounds he bath'd with oil and wine:
On sin denounc'd the scourge of wrath divine,
But more the meek with words of comfort drew.”—
You've read his epitaph: do you ask his name?
Full many a poor man's friend does Britain own
Among her pastors; though from publick fame
Remote they labour, mark'd by God alone,
And those they tend; but mid the world's acclaim
The Lord's “Well done” shall make their labours known.

XLIII. THE PASTOR'S HELP MEET.

And no kind help dost thou, my country, know,
Meet for such Pastor?—Yes, 'tis she who bears
Her more than portion in his household cares;
Wife of his bosom, friend in weal or woe,
His children's mother! As thro' life they go,
Knit in the bonds of holy love, 'tis hers,
As woman may beseem whose meekness fears
Offence, his charge to deem her own, and sow
Instruction, comfort, round. Alas, she needs
Comfort herself too oft, when left to feel
Want link'd with widowhood. Her gentle deeds
Bear then in mind; to her the kindness deal,
She dealt to others; bind the wound that bleeds,
And soothe the heart which none but God can heal!

XLIV. THE PASTOR'S WIDOW AND ORPHANS.

Yes, she must go, and from their place of birth
Her children with her; from that pleasant spot,
Where Providence had cast their goodly lot,
The Pastor's dwelling. They the tale of mirth
No more shall pass around yon Christmas hearth;
No more shall they on yonder grassy plot
Sport the long summer eve: for he is not,
The husband, father!—Truly they on earth
Are strangers, pilgrims they! Their wonted home,
Yes, they must leave; and what may then betide,
O God, thou knowest. O, as hence they roam,
Mayst thou watch over them! Mayst thou provide
Friends, shelter, food, and comfort yet to come,
The orphan's Father, and the widow's Guide!

XLV. THE ARK OF CHRIST'S CHURCH.

Rent were at once the floodgates of the sky,
And burst the great deep's fountains. All was dark,
Throng'd with the forms of drowning men: and, hark,
O'er the wide earth one agonising cry!
Then mid the swelling surge, careering high,
Fraught with the world's remains, the Patriarch's ark
Went o'er the waters: for that wondrous bark
Liv'd in the safeguard of Jehovah's eye.
Past is the plague! But still o'er earth the flood
Of sin reigns paramount: still God provides
An Ark of health for those who walk with God;
His power secures it, and his wisdom guides.
Faith clings obedient to that lov'd abode,
And o'er the waves the life-fraught vessel rides.

XLVI. HOLY BAPTISM.

To the enliv'ning font the sponsors came,
Bearing their infant charge; the white-rob'd priest
Stood there beside. Then with meek pray'r addrest
To the Great Sire the promis'd boon to claim,
The babe, unconscious yet of sin or shame,
With greeting kind the holy man embrac'd,
And on his brow the cleansing water cast,
And spake the mystick words, the Triune Name.
The sight was common: but withal a sight,
So sweet, so lovely, to behold a son
Of God adopted by his own blest rite—
Methought that Seraphs round about the throne
Might gaze thereon o'erjoyed: and with delight
Hail the new-born a brother of their own.

XLVII. THE BAPTIZED IN HEALTH.

Why not before the Church, with reverence due,
As she enjoins, thy infant consecrate?
Why not God's rite in God's house celebrate?
Why publick forms withdraw from publick view?
Why ancient rules displace for fancies new?
Why tempt the man of God to desecrate
Religion's face august, and violate
His own high charge, nor hold allegiance true?
Alas! that fashion thus the palm from sense,
From order, right, and decency should win!
That holy rite should breed the law's offence!
And when we pray, that, as our babes begin,
So they their lives may lead, we date it thence,
Where our own act is not exempt from sin!

XLVIII. THE BAPTIZED IN DANGER.

Sickness is on thy infant: great the need,
And urgent! Haste, thy parish pastor crave
To visit thee, the sinking babe to lave
With rite baptismal. For God's grace to plead
Few words suffice, when danger prompts to speed.
He breathes the hallowing pray'r; in the pure wave
Bathes the sin-born; and speaks the word to save
Effectual, symbol of thy Christian creed.
Now peace be thine! For his beloved Son
On thy regenerate infant God hath smil'd.
Lives he? Before the Church give God his own:
Or, if the Almighty Father claim his child,
Yield him content! To heav'n his soul hath flown,
An angel spirit, cleans'd and undefil'd.

XLIX. SPIRITUAL LIFE.

He brooded o'er the waters at the first,
The Spirit of Life, o'er waters void and dead:
And, as he brooded, formless chaos fled,
Life glow'd, and nature into being burst.
And tho' the ground, by ban primeval curst,
Sin's penalty, hath thorns and thistles bred;
With beauty still is nature's face o'erspread,
Fann'd by his breeze, and by his sunshine nurst.
'Tis so with man. In his baptismal hour
The Spirit bathes and raises him from death:
And tho' the weeds of sin with noxious power
Mar the celestial plant, the Spirit's breath
Rears with its genial warmth the languid flower,
And fruits of Eden ripen on the heath.

L. A BIRTH-DAY THOUGHT.

It is my natal day! Another year
Is register'd against me in the account
Of time to me entrusted, and the amount
Of that rich talent for my trial here
By one more year diminish'd. As more near
My reckoning draws, does evil's inborn fount
Within me more subside, and, paramount
To the world's love, the love of God sincere
Reign arbiter?—O, may each year, each day,
By him vouchsaf'd, to him its tribute pour,
And his free love with answering love repay:
Worthless, alas! Yet such as may for store
Of blessings giv'n meet gratitude display,
Till the night come, and I can work no more!

LI. CHILDHOOD TRAINED.

As wrapt and hidden in the stone's embrace
The future statue lies yet undefin'd;
Till the nice chisel clears the form design'd,
The trunk, the moving limbs, the speaking face
Developes: so instruction's hand must trace
The intellectual form, which lies inshrin'd
Mid nature's rude materials; and the mind
Invest with due proportion, strength, and grace.
God to thy teaching delegates the art
To form the future man: the care be thine,
No shape unworthy from the marble start,
Reptile or monster; but with just design
Copy the heavenly model, and impart,
As best thou canst, similitude divine.

LII. THE CATECHIST.

'Twas a wise rule, which in the Church's face
The Pastor bade collect his youthful fold,
Instruct, examine, to their view uphold
Their wants, their blessings, and their means of grace;
And what their Christian creed; and how their race
To run of Christian love. Such lessons told,
Their elders listening round, to truth a hold
Might give more sacred from the holy place,
Mix'd with God's word and pray'r. And oft I've thought,
If well the value of that pastoral scene,
Where the good man with care paternal taught
God's will, with cheering word and smile between,
The Preacher's voice supplies, tho' haply fraught
With eloquence and powerful reasoning keen.

LIII. THE CATECHISM.

That call not education, which decries
God and his truth, content the seed to strew
Of moral maxims, and the mind imbue
With elements, which form the worldly wise.
So call the training, which can duly prize
Such lighter lore, but chiefly holds to view
What God requires us to believe and do,
And notes man's end, and shapes him for the skies.
This praise be thine, that by the truth set free
Thou still hast trod the right way and the best,
City of God, my Mother! yea, of thee
“Excellent things are said;” nor this the least,
That thou thy children giv'st the path to see
Of life, and lead'st them by their God's behest.

LIV. PAROCHIAL INSTRUCTION.

Seek we the parish school! I love to view
The village group, as one large family,
In seemly guise arrang'd: the sparkling eye
To mark, and eager tone, to feeling true,
Quick to embrace and utter learning new;
The seed deep sown, in time to flourish high,
Of virtuous deeds and social harmony;
But chiefly how by pure religion's clue
The mind is forward led. This gives a price
To mental, moral, training. All beside
Is doubtful good, perchance the source of vice
And thoughts presumptuous. Knowledge oft with pride
Puffs up the mind, and worldly lusts entice,
Unless God's truth man's erring nature guide.

LV. THE BAPTIZED ADULT.

What God ordains, it fits not man to slight!
Thy parents, doubtful of the power to save,
Or heedless, kept thee from the cleansing wave.
More wisely thou by God's appointed rite
Resolv'st to arm thee for thy ghostly fight;
By pray'r, with faith and penitence, to crave
The heavenly grace; and thus the combat brave,
Born of the Spirit, in the Saviour's might.
Now thou art Christ's own soldier. Now thy foes
Will haply more assail thee, as the fiend,
When own'd of heav'n from Jordan's flood he rose,
Thy Saviour tempted. O, with him to friend
Beneath his banner march, whate'er oppose,
Faithful: and conquest on thy steps attend!

LVI. CONFIRMATION.

Pledg'd was their faith in infancy: but now,
When opening years the reasoning soul reveal,
Before yon altar's rails behold them kneel,
Ingenuous youths and maidens! There they bow
The modest head, and there the early vow
With words of solemn Confirmation seal,
And on their brow the hand confirming feel
Of Christ's high minister. O God, do Thou
Save and defend thy children! Gracious Lord,
Father, thy hand be o'er, thy Spirit's grace
Be ever with them, and thy powerful Word
Their light and leader!—Awful is the race
Before them set, with toil and peril stor'd,
And steep the path-way to behold thy face!

LVII. THE LORD'S SUPPER.

“Take, eat and drink, and thus remember me!”
Remember thee! Alas, the mighty debt
Of heavenly love that man should e'er forget!
Ah! how can I my Lord and Saviour see,
Reclining at the board, and on the tree
Suspended! bow'd with agony, and yet
Breathing sweet love for men against thee set,
Thine enemies! and not remember Thee?—
Duty most bounden, thus on thee to think,
Thus, as thou biddest! Privilege divine,
Pledge of thy boundless love, to eat and drink
Thy body and blood beneath the bread and wine!
O, ever thus, till worn-out nature sink,
That duty, Lord, that privilege be mine!

LVIII. THE WEDDING GARMENT.

Spread is the table of the Lord, and there,
Who will, may go and freely feast: but high,
Bethink thee well! and full of dignity
That table; nor befits it them to share,
Whose hearts with malice swell, or pine with care
For earthly toys, or grovel in the sty
Of sensual pleasure, or God's truth decry,
His name, his word dishonour! O, beware!
Approach not rashly; but about thee throw
The wedding garment, and present thee drest
In faith, and love, and penitence; that so,
The King, when he surveys each bridal guest,
The appointed sign of fellowship may know,
And welcome thee to that celestial feast.

LIX. THE SCRUPULOUS CHRISTIAN.

And wilt thou from Christ's table turn away?—
True: if profanely, thoughtlessly, thou come,
Well may'st thou shrink from God's chastising doom:
But what, if God's command thou disobey,
Self-will'd, self-led, injurious?—True: thy way
Is mark'd by weakness, sin: yet there is room
For such; for where's the just that may presume,
Safe in unsullied righteousness, to stay?—
Come then, with mind enlighten'd to perceive,
Discern, and value, that most heavenly feast!
Come, with repentant heart, resolv'd to leave
The sins it feels and grieves for! Do thy best:
And He, who calls thee, will thy wants relieve,
Thy sins remit, and give thy conscience rest!

LX. THE HUMBLE COMMUNICANT.

“Why at Christ's Table dost thou bend thy knee?
Is it before a wheaten God to show
Will-worship rash, profane?”—Ah! deem not so:
For not in form corporeal here is He,
Who sits inthron'd aloft in majesty.
Deem it a sign, with what devotion glow
Our hearts for Him, who feeds us thus below;
How worthy Christ, and how unworthy we!
If there be yet a sign of love more meet
For love divine sent forth our souls to heal,
Such sign, O Lord, be ours! Prepar'd to eat
Thy mystick feast, behold, we meekly kneel:
O grant us, grant us, at thy mercy-seat
The sense, our bodies show, our hearts may feel!

LXI. THE POOR BLIND MAN.

Dark were his eyes from childhood! Poor and blind
He has travell'd on, till on his patient head
Their gather'd frosts have fourscore winters shed:
But still God's word he hears, and in his mind,
What can he more? digests; nor fails to find
Each day of rest the church-ward path unled,
And share, whene'er dispens'd, the living bread,
Pleas'd with God's bounty, to his rod resign'd.
Blind though he be, deem him not wholly so,
Who knows the way of heavenly truth to scan!
A day perchance may come, when thou shalt throw
Thoughts of regret on life's exhausted span,
Ah, blest with sight in vain! and long to know
The soul's enlightening of that poor blind man!

LXII. THE HIGH FESTIVALS.

'Tis a benignant feeling, which delights
In seasons mindful of events gone by,
Dear as they past, and precious. But more high
The sense, and holier, which the Church incites,
To mark with festal days, and solemn rites,
The annual course of God's great mystery,
“The Word made flesh.” On that with piercing eye
The angels gaze! On that the Church invites
Her sons to linger! As thereon we muse,
On each strange scene, or all, together wove
A wondrous tissue, like the braided hues
Which blest the Patriarch's sight, with eye above
Uplifted, faith the dear memorials views,
Signs of past mercy and enduring love!

LXIII. THE SAINT'S DAY.

Not that to them we pray, whose work is done;
Not that through them, who ran their earthly race
Frail like ourselves, tho' strong in heavenly grace,
For aid we supplicate our race to run:
Not for such cause the Church each sainted son
Thankful commemorates; but as guides to trace
More clear our passage to the appointed place,
Proofs of the battle fought, the victory won.
Lov'd names! Apostles in communion bright,
The Martyrs' noble brotherhood, and they
“Whose praise is in the Gospel!” But with might
Divine or mediatorial to array
Created beings—'twere to choose dark night
To walk in, and reject the golden day!

LXIV. DAILY PRAYERS.

A law there was, such law our fathers knew,
Believing God that he delights to dwell
With his assembled Church! the parish bell
Each morn and eve the gather'd people drew
God's word to hear, their daily vows renew.
Such law their offspring we have bid farewell.
Contents us now each week's return to tell
Our wants to God, and tender homage due.
Is it, our hearts the world's allurements fill?
That “itching ears” less wholesome food require?
That love and piety have waxen chill?—
Yet, when did zeal to loftier flights aspire?—
But not most deeply flows the noisiest rill;
Nor crackling thorns bespeak the steadiest fire.

LXV. THE MORNING OFFERING.

When nature wakes, and man awakes withal
To taste the freshness of the new-born day,
And feel himself alive; what debt to pay
Should conscience prompt him? What, but first of all
Before his own and nature's God to fall;
Him, who has chas'd the gloom of night away,
To thank; from Him, his being's only stay,
To ask for succour?—Hear the morning call,
Almighty Father! Hear, my Guard and Guide!
Another day thou giv'st me to begin:
Defend me in it for his sake who died
Man's ransom! O, from foes without, within
Protect me; rule my ways; and turn aside
The shafts of danger and the snares of sin!

LXVI. THE EVENING SACRIFICE.

Canst thou thy body on thy bed compose,
The resting place whence it no more may rise,
Till the Archangel's trump unseal thine eyes,
And call thee hence to judgment; canst thou close
Those eyes with comfort, and in peace repose,
Before thou lift thy voice, and to the skies
Send up devotion's Evening Sacrifice,
Sweet as the fumes which from the censer rose?
Ere on thy thoughts oblivious slumber creep,
Ere the still sleep can lull thy pillow'd head,
To Him, whose eyelids slumber not, nor sleep,
Commend thy spirit: that about thy bed
His wings may shield thee, and his feathers keep,
Sustain thee living, or receive thee dead!

LXVII. FAMILY WORSHIP.

Fair is the sight, by Israel's psalmist sung,
Of those whom God hath in one household join'd,
In peace, and unity, and love combin'd;
Most fair, when all assemble, old and young,
Parents and children; those who serve, among
Those whom they serve; with social feelings kind
Each to the other, and with knees inclin'd
In patriarchal worship, heart and tongue.
List to the Saviour's words! “Where two or three
Meet in my name, there in the midst am I.”
Believe, and welcome to thy family
The gracious Guest; and by his blessing try,
How much domestick bliss and amity
Hang on domestick worship's hallowing tie!

LXVIII. HOLY MATRIMONY.

If there's a scene, which joy unmingled cheers,
It is not, no, it is not when the bride
And happy bridegroom meet, and side by side
Before the altar stand; while mid the tears
Of mother, sister, friends, the sire appears,
To yield his child, his heart's delight and pride,
To him she loves, uncertain how the tide
Of life may ebb or flow!—But truce to fears
And anxious bodings! Hark, the vow they plight
Of mutual truth: and now the sacred priest
Joins them with pray'r, and bids a blessing light
From God upon them. Happy omens rest
On love so pledg'd, and hallow'd by the rite
Which God appointed and Christ's presence blest!

LXIX. THE HONOURED WIFE.

If “worship,” honour, (kindred terms I use,
As us'd our fathers, for the self-same thought:)
If worship man, by God's instruction taught,
Pays to his brother man; shall he refuse
Due share to her, whom his affections choose
His home's, his heart's companion; if in aught
Less worthy, yet perchance with feelings fraught
Holier, more virtuous deeds, more generous views?—
'Tis her's to yield, the weaker vessel's sign,
Obedience, reverence; to receive is her's,
Love, comfort, honour : made by God's design
“Help meet for man ,” like man from God she bears
His image, his similitude divine;
Both taught of God, and both “salvation's heirs.”

LXX. THE THANKFUL MOTHER.

Yes, in thy chamber thou dost well to pray,
And there to thank thy Refuge and Support,
Who hath not cut thine own existence short,
But adds to thine thy offspring's. Day by day,
And night by night, thy praise in secret pay:
But not the less in Salem's publick court,
The house of God, his people's lov'd resort,
(So bids the Church,) thy gratitude display!
'Twas thine the fruit of Eve's offence to feel,
That she “in sorrow should her children bear:”
'Tis thine to taste, that He who smites can heal.
Go then, like holy Mary! Go, repair
To God's high temple; there devoutly kneel,
There lift thy voice, and make thine offering there!

LXXI. THE CHRISTIAN FAMILY.

Is there a sight on earth, where God may throw
His eyes, and gaze with heart's complacency?—
Such sight is that, where her young family
The virtuous mother trains, his praise to show
In hymn or holy psalm, to whom they owe
Life, health, and all things; while the father by
Sits thrill'd with thoughts of silent ecstasy;
Sweet thoughts, which none but pious parents know!
This be thy garland, lady fair and good,
That those, whom God hath given, thy blooming race
To God thou lead'st!—With goodness unendued,
What were the fairest form, the loveliest face?
But dear to heaven, with heaven's own tints imbued,
Is female beauty deck'd with Christian grace.

LXXII. GOD'S JUDGMENTS DENOUNCED AGAINST SINNERS IN THE COMMINATION.

No! deem it not the Church could e'er pursue
Her sons, tho' mark'd by many a crimson spot,
With pray'r or wish for evil! Deem it not
She bids thee e'er such pray'r or wish renew!
But well she knows that holy, just, and true
Are God's commands and menaces; and what
His word proclaims the wilful sinner's lot,
She knows, and owns, and bids thee own it due.
“Curs'd is the man who spurns Jehovah's will.”
Doubt'st thou the sentence? Does it aught declare
Which is not? aught which He shall not fulfil?
Confess the truth: pray God his flock to spare:
And, warn'd thyself, and heedful of the ill,
Of sin, and sin's appointed doom, beware!

LXXIII. IN A TIME OF COMMON SICKNESS.

'Twas not the day of Sabbath, when I past,
Nor by the Church made holy: yet a dumb
Lone stillness reign'd there for the week-day hum
Of busy men, and every door was fast
Where traffick wont to toil; and as I cast
A sidelong glance on every hallow'd dome,
Thither I saw the assembled people come,
To pray the God of mercy!—'Tis the blast
Of his displeasure hovering o'er their head,
Which calls them thither. Hear their fervent pray'r,
All Merciful! Bid thou the arm outspread
Of the destroyer from his prey forbear;
And may the Great Atoner from the dead
Sever the living, and thy suppliants spare!

LXXIV. THE SICK MAN VISITED.

“Peace to this house!”—Now, ere in languor lost
The weary spirit from the task recoil
Of self-research, or racking pain embroil
The thoughts, and reason's gentle sway be crost;
Welcome the holy man! What tho' he boast
No potent charm the sting of death to foil,
Relick, or magick word, or holy oil,
Or image-bearing cross, or wafer host:
Yet may his voice thy heart to faith incline,
Love, patience, trust, repentance, and release
From worldly cares; his hand confer the sign
Of pardoning mercy; and his pray'r increase
(God's steward he!) thy store of wealth divine,
Support thee here, or send thee hence in peace!

LXXV. THE SICK COMMUNICANT.

Nor fail, as round the clouds of sickness steal,
Perchance of death, again a willing guest
To seek refreshment at the heavenly feast,
Pledge of thy faith, and thy salvation's seal.
Alas! that reckless of their spirit's weal
Some should refrain till then; as if, imprest
With sigil quaint, by cunning wizard blest,
A spell were there the fainting soul to heal,
Howe'er in Christ untutor'd. Wiser thou,
As he commands, thy Christian race hast run;
As he commands, renew'd thy plighted vow;
And sought his glory, not content to shun
His means of grace. His peace be with thee now,
And hope presageful of thy Lord's “Well-done!”

LXXVI. THE ABSOLVED SINNER.

Think'st thou the Church, to give the sinner rest,
Has dar'd assume a more than human sway?—
What by her Lord's high will she justly may,
She does. To ease the soul, its sin confest,
Which humbly sues relief, her Lord's behest
She names, his promis'd boon, the appointed way,
The absolving words; nor fails of God to pray,
To seal the sentence in his name exprest.
Deems she that thus is purg'd the sinner's spot,
If faithless, unrepentant; or to her
Heaven's empery belongs?—Believe it not!
Full well she knows, to pardon and to spare
Is God's prerogative: well knows she, what
The heaven-ward road, and what the passport there.

LXXVII. THE SICK RESTORED.

On thy dim eye, how many a cheerless day,
And many a weary night, hath nature frown'd!
Day was to thee as night: for sickness round
Thy pillow clung, and darkness the glad ray
Of light obscur'd. Now forth thou wendest gay
With life renew'd: now teems the unwonted ground
For thee with flowers of Eden; and each sound
Is to thine ear a spring-time roundelay.
Quaff from the air its musick! from the flower
Its sweetness quaff! But fail not thanks to yield
To Him who made them, and to thee the power
Restores to taste their beauties! He repeal'd
The impending sentence: he affliction's hour
Has chang'd to joy: he smote and he has heal'd.

LXXVIII. FRUITS OF SICKNESS.

And wilt thou now that God hath rais'd thee up,
The vows, the promises, thy conscience made,
What time beneath God's chastening rod afraid
Thou drank'st submissive of affliction's cup,
Wilt thou in health perform? Or wilt thou stoop
Again to sin, as if thou wouldst upbraid
God for his kindness, all thy debt unpaid
Of gratitude, foregone thy Christian hope,
Thy tears, and pray'rs for pardon?—If misus'd
God's grace, bethink thee lest thy end be worse
Than thy beginning! Mercy's boon refus'd
Shall fall in judgment on the soul perverse
That slights the gift; and goodness long abus'd
Convert the intended blessing to a curse.

LXXIX. TIMELY PREPARATION.

Who, when the pilot warns, would lose the tide
By casting pebbles on the glassy sea?
Who to weave garlands in the flowery lea
Would far from home the waning hours abide?
What racer from his course would turn aside
To pick up apples from Hesperian tree?
What soldier, striving for the mastery,
Waste in Campanian sloth his manhood's pride?
Christian, be wise! The tide is at its height,
Which now may waft thee to the wish'd-for shore:
Thy home's away, and swift the moments' flight:
The goal, the crown's right on, thine eyes before:
The trumpet calls to gird thee for the fight;
Hark! now it sounds, but soon shall sound no more!

LXXX. THE DEATH-BED.

Full of deep learning is the bed of death!
When this lov'd world is fading from the sense,
And the soul feels the body's impotence;
And things, which lurk'd disguis'd, self-love beneath,
Take their own shape; and what remains of breath
Is spent in pray'r, and sighs of penitence
For life's misdoings; and the next step hence
Leads to the demon's flames, or angel's wreath:—
Who would not then the paths of sin disclaim?—
Who would not then to God for mercy fly,
And plead the bulwark of a Saviour's name?—
O, on that name in health may I rely;
On that my faith, by that my practice, frame;
And live to Christ, that I in Christ may die!

LXXXI. THE SUDDEN DEATH.

He was an alien from the House of God!
Admonish'd oft, his grief he oft exprest,
And better things for time to come profest,
For time to come he hoped for! yet untrod
The church-ward path still left he, till the rod
Smote him, what time amid the drunken feast
His unnerv'd throat the unswallow'd morsel prest,
And now he lies beneath the church yard sod!
What's now his place, and whither he is gone,
Who rashly dares pronounce? But who can hear
His fate, nor breathe a wish that he had known
To tread with reverence and holy fear
God's courts, or ere before God's judgment throne
The accusing Angel bade his soul appear?

LXXXII. THE DYING CRIMINAL.

His life was spent in sin, and, often owed,
Was paid the law's just forfeit. But at last,
Ere from the death-doom'd frame the spirit past,
The outward marks of penitence he showed;
With faith, 'twas said, with love, with transport glowed;
Nor want there some, by whom he's surely class'd
With God's elect in glory. Who would blast
Hope's opening bud for him, the heavenward road
Who seems e'en thus to seek?—Yet who may dare
Pronounce him blest, for who can rightly weigh
His faith and late repentance?—Leave him where
God's word has left him. Thou meanwhile obey
The calls of palpable duty; nor forbear
Till night's approach the labour of the day!

LXXXIII. THE OBEDIENT DISCIPLE.

More sure we deem the obedient Christian's meed,
Who near his end by duty's pathway draws!
His the prompt zeal, to serve his Father's cause;
The lowly heart, to feel and own its need;
The faith, the Saviour's righteousness to plead,
And use his means of grace; the love, his laws
To keep; with hope, not heedless of the applause
To heavenly thoughts and holy deeds decreed.
Peace be to those, who on God's altar lay
Their life's late gleanings, scant thro' lengthen'd crime,
But glean'd in shame and sorrow? Happier they,
Who sow to God in nature's genial prime;
And to the harvest's Lord their fulness pay,
The strength and glory of the golden time!

LXXXIV. THE DEATH OF THE RIGHTEOUS.

Wouldst thou the Christian's death triumphant die,
Live thou the Christian's life!—To fight the fight
Of God, supported by the Spirit's might,
And in the Saviour's name; to fix the eye
Fast on the prize, and strive for mastery;
To keep the faith's rich jewel, whole and bright:
Such aim accomplish'd was the heart's delight
Of dying Paul: such aim be thine to try!
So move thou duly on to reach the goal!
So may God's Spirit with thine own attest
Thy heavenly sonship, and his peace control
Earth's anxious thoughts! So, meet to join the blest,
His gentle breath shed comfort on thy soul,
The pledge and earnest of eternal rest!

LXXXV. THE PASSING BELL.

That sound upon my ear falls heavily!—
It is the passing bell, the deep slow toll
Which speaks the transit of a deathless soul,
Call'd from its mortal tenement to fly,
And of the unseen world the secrets try.
A few hours more, wrapt in its funeral stole,
Death's winding sheet, that bell again shall knoll
The body hence, in its long home to lie,
Till the angel's trump arouse it. Do not say,
'Tis a vain sound, that passing spirit's sign!
But warn'd, awhile thy heart withdraw away
From this world's toys, to heavenly themes incline:
And think, “The solemn knell, which sounds to-day
A brother's fate, to-morrow may be mine!”

LXXXVI. THE FUNERAL.

I envy not the feelings which can send
The breathless corpse to its sepulchral home,
Heedless of Him who made it! Mid the gloom
Of sorrows, which the widow'd bosom rend,
'Tis kind, 'tis comforting, 'tis wise to blend
Earth, as it were, with heaven, whence thoughts may come
Rous'd by God's word and pray'r; and from the tomb
The heart to bliss unseen, unheard, ascend!
God takes the spirit; to the ground we give
The body, “earth to earth, and dust to dust!”
But not, as they who have no hope, we grieve:
Sure is the Christian's faith, and firm his trust,
That they, who sleep in Christ, in Christ shall live,
And waking join the assembly of the just.

LXXXVII. THANKSGIVING FOR THE DEPARTED.

This world abounds in misery and sin!
Each has his share: and who, that on the days
Yet future meditates with careful gaze,
Can tell how much of ill, without, within,
Waits him; or what of freedom he may win
By death's kind stroke?—Then count it not dispraise,
That when the Church her children's bodies lays
In the still grave, meet theme of thanks therein
She sees to God who claims them! Well she knows,
That sins beset, that ambush'd sorrow tries,
The flesh-encumber'd spirit: whither goes
Each spirit hence, she dares not say; but wise
And good is He, who mid impending woes
Still notes his creatures with benignant eyes.

LXXXVIII. HOPE FOR THE DEPARTED.

To doom thy brother, from the flesh releas'd,
Christian, befits thee not. 'Twill best behove
The grace which “hopeth all things,” Christian love,
To hope that each may in the Saviour rest.
Degrees of hope are various: for the best
Well may it rise to faith, but not above:
For those, the worst in semblance,—who can prove
God's mercy may not rank them with the blest?
Yield then, in hope that he in Christ may sleep,
To earth thy lifeless brother!—Whom most pure
Thou deem'st, in mind his good example keep;
Whom soil'd with sin, his sins avoid, abjure:
So may'st thou sow in love, in transport reap,
Thyself; and make thine own election sure!

LXXXIX. CHRISTIAN UNITY.

One God there is, who reigns above in light:
One Lord on earth, for man incarnate made;
One body form'd He by one Spirit's aid;
Call'd to one hope by one baptismal rite,
One holy bread to eat of, and to plight
One common faith . Who name his name, he bade
In concord live; and of his Father pray'd,
Perfection's bond, all might in one unite .
God wills our union. Man, by passion driven,
Turns to a sword the rod for healing sent.
Lo, limb from limb the spouse of Christ is riven,
His seamless coat by reckless hands is rent:
As if the goodliest, loveliest gift of heaven,
When most disfigur'd, were most excellent.

XC. BEAUTY OF THE CHURCH.

What fairer form, my Country's Church, than thine?
“Glorious within, thy clothing of wrought gold !”
What tho', (for who his course on earth may hold,
Nor aught betray of earthliness a sign?)
A speck perchance of earthly origin
May here and there by curious eyes be told,
Dimming the brightness of thy raiment's fold;
'Tis of wrought gold from God's celestial mine,
Of “glory and beauty ”—Yes, thou'rt passing fair,
My Country's Church!—To grace their royal Sire
Full many a daughter stands: but few compare
With thee for virtuous deeds and meet attire;
Few to their King so pure an offering bear,
Tried in the flame, and purified by fire.

XCI. SAFETY IN THE CHURCH.

Why should I e'er forsake thy dwelling, blest
Of God; or whither from thy shelter move?
Whate'er vouchsafement waits us from above
To cheer, sustain, enlighten, is possest
By thee, and thou to thine distributest:
And sure I think, if tempted once to rove
From thee, my foot would find, like Noah's dove,
O'er the wide waters refuge none, nor rest.
Grace is within thy precincts, holy Ark;
Grace and salvation! And tho' gathering gloom
Now and again with signs of presage dark
O'erhang thee, mercy's beams the skreen illume;
And faith on blackest clouds may brightest mark
God's bow, the pledge of blessings yet to come.

XCII. THE CHURCH'S WORTHIES.

Might aught beside thy own inherent praise,
Thy stores adopted from heaven's treasury,
Mark'd with God's name and genuine imagery,
Win the charm'd soul to pass her earthly days
With thee, loved Mother! 'tis that she surveys
In the long record of the times gone by,
What sweet memorials of a grace from high,
Shed on Thy Faithful Sons, her scroll displays.
Hail, holy men! by whom of yore was fought,
True to your Captain, to his Consort true,
The Christian fight! The goal, your footsteps sought,
Fain would I, following in your track, pursue;
And fain my soul, her work of trial wrought,
Would find the haven of her rest with you!

XCIII. THE CHURCH'S PROTO-MARTYR, 1555.

If life preserved for wife and children's sake,
If bliss which none but husbands, fathers feel,
If worldly woe escaped, and worldly weal
Enjoy'd, lands, houses, goods, with all to take
Captive the waverer, had had power to shake
Thy firm resolve, and quench thy fervent zeal—
Rogers, the Church had lost her earliest seal
Stamp'd in thy heart's blood on the burning stake.
But nobler thought was thine, and loftier scope,
The Tempter's vile allurements to withstand
Victorious: thine the Christian's deathless hope,
The Christian's faith: and thus thy native land
Salutes in thee her harvest's firstling crop,
In thee the Stephen of her martyr'd band.

XCIV. THE MARTYRED BISHOPS, 1555.

“Take heart, my brother! for from yonder pile,
Our deathbed and our sepulchre to day,
A lamp shall spring, to light with quenchless ray
The length and breadth of England's darkling isle!”
So spake the mitred Martyr , as with smile
Sedate, not reckless, he the hard affray
Encounter'd, for the gain, thenceforth to pay
His own life's loss, gladden'd his soul the while.
Hold we such names in reverence, nor mis-deem
That they for nought the oppressor's rage withstood!
Still o'er the land, so God ordain'd it, stream
The rays that issued from that blazing wood;
And England hail'd, waked from her papal dream,
Her Church's seed-time in her martyrs' blood.

XCV. THE PRIMATE AT THE STAKE, 1556.

Who that beholds his hand reluctant trace
Words which the meek Confessor's thoughts disclaim,
Drops not a tear of sorrow on the name,
Consign'd by one sad act to dire disgrace?
Who that beholds his willing hand embrace,
Ah! not unworthy now! the scorching flame,
Joys not to see that well-repented shame
Cleansed from the patient sufferer's soiled face?
Of those, my Country, who the pitying tear
Drop for thy renovated Church's Sire,
How many a heart, like his, had fail'd for fear!
How few perchance had dared, like his, respire,
To claim the meed of penitence sincere,
And faith that mark'd unmoved the circling fire!

XCVI. THE PRIMATE ON HIS DEATH-BED, 1604.

“O, for the Church of God!”—As faint and rare
The accents came from Whitgift's palsied tongue,
While o'er his couch his royal Master hung
The dying Primate's last behest to share;
“O, for the Church of God!”—That livelong care,
While vigorous health his frame and spirit strung,
Still to his memory's fading tablet clung,
Form'd his sole wish, and moved his parting prayer.
Meet prayer to crown the work of him, who long
Had sway'd of England's Church the pastoral rod!
Meet prayer for all her sons! Or old or young,
As on we journey by this mortal road,
Be this our matins and our even-song,
In life, in death, “O, for the Church of God!”

XCVII. THE PRIMATE AT THE BLOCK, 1644.

Beside the headsman's block and sharpen'd blade,
Stands one, the first of England's hierarchy !
By bonds and outrage bow'd, and penury,
Degraded, trampled on, malign'd, betray'd,
Full threescore years and twelve have now allay'd
Somewhat the keenness of his eagle eye,
But not the conscience pure, the spirit high,
Submiss to God, but ne'er by man dismay'd.
Speak not his name and title, lest they call
From yonder rabble rout the infuriate yell!
But his high rank, his virtues, and his fall
By faction's lawless minions, ponder well;
And think, the storm, that rent the Primate's pall,
On kingly crown and hallow'd altar fell!

XCVIII. THE PRIMATE DISINTERRED, 1648 .

Shame on the regicide, who rent the tomb,
Where thy remains, age-honour'd Parker, lay,
Commingling fast with consecrated clay!
Shame on the wretch profane, who dared presume
To “burst the marble cearments;” to exhume
Thy bones from holy earth and meet array;
And like a potsherd, vilely cast away,
To grave obscene the scatter'd fragments doom.
What was thy crime? 'Twas that thy country owes,
Revived, her rites apostolick to thee:
The channel thou, through which transmissive flows
The stream episcopal, from error free;
Guard of the Church from innovating foes,
And foster-father of her Liturgy!

XCIX. BISHOP KEN'S MORNING AND EVENING HYMN.

A holy pilgrim journey'd on his way:
His fingers touch'd the lute's melodious string,
And still his answering voice was carolling,
“Awake, my soul, thy morning tribute pay.”
And oft as evening spread her shadows grey,
The lute and voice renew'd their communing,
Nor fail'd that holy pilgrim aye to sing
“Glory to Him, who made the night and day!”
Ken, not a better, greater name than thine,
With honour marks the Church's history.
Who know thee, know thee strong in grace divine:
But all applaud thy sacred minstrelsy;
And village children, when their voices join
In hymns of daily praise, still learn of thee.

C. THE IMPRISONED BISHOPS, 1688.

Seven holy men , loved Mother, of thine own,
Superior one in honour as in age,
Stood forth, despite a bigot tyrant's rage,
Thy people's guardian 'gainst a despot's throne.
Of those seven holy men, when freedom's frown
Had chased that bigot tyrant from the stage,
Five to his name held fast their plighted gage,
And lost their mitres to maintain his crown!
Angels of Anglia's Church, stars fair and bright,
I greet you, in her crowded galaxy!
'Twas yours to suffer wrong; yours to requite
Wrong meekly borne, with steadier loyalty;
Nor dare abandon in his friendless flight,
Whom in his pride of power ye dared defy!

CI. THE PRIMATE DEPRIVED, 1692.

Erewhile in lordly pride of place he sate,
Unmatch'd in England's hierarchal chair;
The long retinue, and the sumptuous fare,
And mitre, pall, and crosier swell'd his state:
Now scarce a menial at his lowly gate,
The hermit's vestment, and the diet spare,
And, stript of outward pomp, the lonely prayer,
On the fall'n Patriarch's close retirement wait.
The meed thou merit'st, Sancroft, freely have!
Zealous, but mild, in thy prelatick sway:
Amid the world's commotions meekly brave;
Contented thence thou took'st thy private way,
And left'st for record on thy rural grave,
“Praise to the Lord, who gives and takes away!”

CII. THE CHURCH'S PARISH MINISTERS.

Still, as I turn thy monumental page,
Loved Church, it binds affection's chords to see,
Not less in virtue, though of less degree,
Thy Worthies of the humble parsonage,
Thy Hookers, Herberts, of a simpler age:
How mid their charge, from worldly follies free,
They “ate their bread in peace and privacy,”
Rich in true wealth, in solid wisdom sage.
Hark, as in thought I trace each hallow'd ground,
Soft whispers greet me from the sainted dead:
“Stewards of Christ, and on his service bound,
To train his flock for heaven, we hither fled;
Here sought our bliss; and here through mercy found,
That bliss still harbour'd, where his service led.

CIII. THE CHURCH'S PEOPLE.

And well it likes me, in thy bygone days
To see thy People's sober footsteps press,
Leagued in one bond of peace and holiness,
The path of penitence, and pray'r, and praise.
Not theirs, with itching ear and curious gaze,
To scan the chance way-farer's crude address,
Less apt the spirit's wanderings to repress,
Than fitful dreams and groundless raptures raise.
But theirs, their pastor's teaching, line on line;
God's word digested well; the mystick feast
Full oft enjoy'd; each stated rite divine:—
Thus Walton, Evelyn, Nelson, once were blest;
Learn'd wisdom in communion none but thine,
And in thy bosom found their Saviour's rest.

CIV. GOD THE PRESERVER OF HIS CHURCH.

A sound is in the trees and on the flood!
The wind is up; it lift the waters high,
As if to battle with the eternal sky,
And from its roots to tear the ancient wood.
But there is One, the Powerful and the Good,
Who sits above the storm with wakeful eye,
Prompt, if need be, with voice of sovereignty
To speak, as once Tiberias' waves he strew'd
With “Peace, be still!”—Yea, Lord, if aught of ill
Thy Church assail, her griefs thy care engage;
Safe stands she, founded on thy holy hill:
Thou canst the tempest's fearful roar assuage,
Tumultuous noise! and more tumultuous still,
Lash'd into storm the maddening people's rage.

CV. TO THE READER.

Reader, if aught, these Musings brief comprise,
May quell a judgment harsh, or wish unkind,
For my lov'd Mother-Church; and in thy mind
Bid thoughts more just, and kindlier feelings rise:
Deem them not air-born baseless fantasies!
Scan her by God's own word, and thou shalt find,
The more thou scann'st, thy spirit more inclin'd
Her name to venerate, her worth to prize.
To thee the search a rich return may bear
Of sacred lore, and aspirations raise
Which the earth owns not: nor shalt thou not share
The grateful sense, which, ah! too scantly, pays
Blessings conferr'd with thanksgiving and pray'r,
“Peace to our Sion, to our God be praise!”