Awd Isaac The Steeplechase, and Other Poems; With a Glossary of the Yorkshire Dialect. By John Castillo |
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REFLECTIONS ON A BACKSLIDER. |
 | Awd Isaac |  |
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REFLECTIONS ON A BACKSLIDER.
How art thou fallen, thou son of the light!
How happy the scenes from which thou art driven!
Behold! if thy soul can dwell on the sight,
Where thou didst once walk and hold converse with heaven!?
How happy the scenes from which thou art driven!
Behold! if thy soul can dwell on the sight,
Where thou didst once walk and hold converse with heaven!?
Then down turn thine eye to yon dreary place,
To which with swift steps thy spirit is bound;
See the hideous forms which thy spirit shall chase,
Ere long in that fire which thee will surround!
To which with swift steps thy spirit is bound;
See the hideous forms which thy spirit shall chase,
Ere long in that fire which thee will surround!
In anguish there thy frighted eyes shall roll,
While demons triumph at thy overthrow;
With flaming firebrands lash thy naked soul,
With burning arrows pierce thee through and through!
While demons triumph at thy overthrow;
With flaming firebrands lash thy naked soul,
With burning arrows pierce thee through and through!
Thy dying soul still fed with living pain,
Shall curse the day on which she first drew breath;
Her awful burden she must still sustain,
And weep, and wail, and long in vain for death!
Shall curse the day on which she first drew breath;
Her awful burden she must still sustain,
And weep, and wail, and long in vain for death!
Midst hell's deep gloom her portion she must drink,
Of double vengeance from Jehovah's ire,
And in the burning lake for ever sink,—
That dreadful region of tormenting fire!
Of double vengeance from Jehovah's ire,
And in the burning lake for ever sink,—
That dreadful region of tormenting fire!
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Alas! the dreadful stupor still remains,
Nor hell can fright, nor heav'nly joys allure;
In vain thy self-convicted soul complains,
Of constant torment, and of thoughts impure!
Nor hell can fright, nor heav'nly joys allure;
In vain thy self-convicted soul complains,
Of constant torment, and of thoughts impure!
In vain the heav'nly harpers tune the lyre,
Rejoicing saints perform the three-fold part;
In vain believers flash devotion's fire,
Or drag the holy harrows o'er thy heart!
Rejoicing saints perform the three-fold part;
In vain believers flash devotion's fire,
Or drag the holy harrows o'er thy heart!
That heart enclos'd as in a case of steel,
Laments its loss, and seeks for rest in vain!
Sighs for that impulse which she once did feel,—
Oh! shall she never taste those joys again.
Laments its loss, and seeks for rest in vain!
Sighs for that impulse which she once did feel,—
Oh! shall she never taste those joys again.
I know the Lord is mighty to redeem,
Of boundless mercy, and unmeasur'd grace,
But sin hath fix'd a mighty gulf between,—
Beyond that gulf a Saviour shows his face.
Of boundless mercy, and unmeasur'd grace,
But sin hath fix'd a mighty gulf between,—
Beyond that gulf a Saviour shows his face.
Sometimes thou may'st the keen conviction spurn,
Through liquor's magic, or associates gay,
But this thy strongest refuge will o'erturn,
To think of Death, and the great judgement day.
Through liquor's magic, or associates gay,
But this thy strongest refuge will o'erturn,
To think of Death, and the great judgement day.
| Awd Isaac | |