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Sigh not, ye winds, as passing o'er
The chambers of the dead you fly
Weep not, ye dews, for these no more
Shall ever weep, shall ever sigh.

PARAPHRASE

Of the 63d chapter of Isaiah to the 6th verse.

A PINDARIQUE ODE.

Strange scene of glory! am I well awake;
Or is't my fancy's wild mistake?

It cannot be a dream, bright beams of light
Flow from the visions face, and pierce my tender
sight.

No common vision this, I see

Some marks of more than human Majesty.

Who is this mighty Hero, who?

With glories reund his head, and terror in his brow?

From Bozrah lo he comes, a scarlet die

O'erspreads his cloaths, and does outvie
The blushes of the morning sky.

Triumphant and victorious he appears,
And honour in his looks and habit wears;

How strong he treads, how stately does he go! Pompous and solemn is his pace,

And full of Majesty, as is his face.

Who is this mighty Hero, who?.

'Tis I who to my promise faithful stand,
I who the powers of death, hell, and the grave,
Have foil'd with this all-conquering hand,
I who most ready am, and mighty too to save.

Why wear'st thou then this scarlet die?
Say, mighty Hero, why?

Why do thy garments look all red

Like them that in the wine-fat tread?
The wine-press I alone have trod,

That vast unwieldly frame, which long did stand Unmov'd, and which no mortal force could e'er command,

That ponderous mass I ply'd alone

And with me to assist were none;

A mighty task it was, worthy the Son of God. Angels stood trembling at the dreadful sight, Concern'd with what success I should go through The work I undertook to do;

Inrag'd I put forth all my might

And down the engine press'd, the violent force
Disturb'd the universe, put nature out of course.
The blood gush'd out in streams, and chequer'd o'er
My garments with its deepest gore;

With ornamental drops bedeck'd I stood,
And writ my victory with my enemy's blood.

The day, the signal day is come
When of my enemies I must vengeance take;

The day when death shall have its doom,
And the dark kingdom with its powers shall shake.
Fate in her calendar mark'd out this day with red,
She folded down the iron leaf, and thus she said,
This day, if ought I can divine be true,
Shall for a signal victory

Be celebrated to posterity:

Then shall the Prince of light descend,

And rescue mortals from th' infernal fiend,

Break through his strongest forts, and all his host subdue.

This said, she shut the adamantine volume close,
And wish'd she might the crouding years transpose;
So much she long to have the scene display,
And see the vast event of this important day.

And now in midst of the revolving years,
This great, this mighty one appears:

The faithful traveller the sun

Has number'd out the days, and the set period run.
I look'd and to assist was none,

My angelick guards stood trembling by,
But durst not venture nigh:

In vain too from my Father did I look
For help, my Father me forsook

Amaz'd I was to see

How all deserted me.

1 took my fury for my sole support

And with my single arm the conquest won.
Loud acclamations fill'd all Heaven's court,
The hymning guards above,

Strain'd to an higher pitch of joy and love,
The great Jehovah prais'd, and his victorious Sona

INVITATION OF MERCY.

Come! said Jesus' sacred voice,
Come and make my paths your choice;
I will guide you to your home;

Weary pilgrim, hither come!

Thou, who houseless, sole forlorn,

Long hast born the proud world's scorn,

Long hast roam'd the barren waste
Weary pilgrim, hither haste!

Ye who, tost on beds of pain,

Seek for ease, but seek in vain :
Ye, whose swoln and sleepless eyes
Watch to see the morning rise:

Ye by fiercer anguish torn,

In strong remorse for guilt who mours

Here repose your heavy care:
A wounded spirit who can bear?

Sinner, come! for here is found
Balm that flows for ev'ry wound!
Peace that ever shall endure,
Rest eternal, sacred sure.

CONTEMPLATION OF THE WORKS OF

NATURE.

Eternal wisdom! thee we praise,

Thee the creation sings;

With thy great name, rocks, hills, and seas,
And heav'n's high palace rings.

How wide thy hand hath spread the sky!

How glorious to behold,

Ting'd with a blue of heav'nly die,

And starr'd with sparkling gold!

There thou hast bid the globes of light
Their endless circles run;

The paler planet rules the night,

The day obeys the sun.

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