I read God's awful name emblazon'd high, With golden letters on th' illumin'd sky; Nor less the mystic characters I see, Wrought in each flower, inscrib'd on ev'ry tree; In ev'ry leaf that trembles to the breeze I hear the voice of God among the trees. With thee in shady solitudes I walk, With thee in busy crowded cities talk ; In every creature own thy forming power, In each event thy providence adore.
Thy hopes shall animate my drooping soul, Thy precepts guide me, and thy fear controul: Thus shall I rest, unmov'd by all alarms, Secure within the temple of thine arms, From anxious cares, from gloomy terrors free, And feel myself omnipotent in thee.
Then when the last, the closing hour draws nigh, And earth recedes before my swimming eye; When trembling on the doubtful edge of fate I stand, and stretch my view to either state; Teach me to quit this transitory scene With decent triumph and a look serene; Teach me to fix my ardent hopes on high, And, having liv'd to thee, in thee to die.
O thou great arbiter of life and death!
Nature's immortal immaterial sun!
Whose all-prolific beam late call'd me forth
From darkness, teeming darkness. where I lay
The worm's inferior, and, in rank, beneath
The dust I tread on, high to bear my brow,
To drink the spirit of the golden day,
And triumph in existence; and could'st know
No motive, but my bliss; with Abraham's joy,
Thy call I follow to the land unknown;
I trust in thee, and know in whom I trust;
Or life or death is equal; neither weighs,
All weight in this-O let me live to thee!
THE FRAILTY AND FOLLY OF MAN.
Great Heav'n! how frail thy creature Man' is made!
How by himself insensibly betray'd!
In our own strength unhappily secure,
Too little cautious of the adverse pow'r;
And, by the blast of self-opinion mov'd,
We wish to charm, and seek to be belov'd.
On pleasure's flow'ry brink we idly stray,
Masters as yet of our returning way:
Seeing no danger, we disarm our mind,
And give our conduct to the waves and wind:
Then in the flow'ry mead, or verdant shade,
To wanton dalliance negligently laid,
We weave the chaplet, and we crown the bowl,
And smiling see the nearer waters roll:
Till the strong gusts of raging passion rise,
Till the dire tempest mingles earth and skies;
And, swift into the boundless ocean borne,
Our foolish confidence tco late we mourn:
Round our devoted heads the billows beat;
And from our troubled view the lessen'd lands
retreat.
LIFE COMPARED TO A STREAM.
Is it, that Life has sown her joys so thick,
We can't thrust in a single care between?
Is it, that life has such a swarm of cares,
The thought of death can't enter for the throng?
Is it, that time steals on with downy feet,
Nor wakes indulgence from her golden dream?
To-day is so like yesterday, it cheats;
We take the lying sister for the same.
Life glides away, Lorenzo, like a brook;
For ever changing, unperceiv'd the change.
In the same brook none ever bath'd him twice:
To the same life none ever twice awoke.
We call the brook the same; the same we think
Our life, though still more rapid in its flow;
Nor mark the much irrevocably laps'd,
And mingled with the sea. Or shall we say
(Retaining still the brook to bear us on)
That life is like a vessel on the stream?
In life embark'd, we smoothly down the tide
Of time descend, but not of time intent;
Amus'd, unconscious of the gliding wave;
Till on a sudden we perceive a shock;
We start, awake, look out; our bark is hurst.
Is this the cause death flies all human thought!
Or is it judgment by the will struck blind,
That domineering mistress of the soul!
Or is it fear turns startled reason back,
From looking down a precipice so steep?
'Tis dreadful; and the dread is wisely plac'd,
By nature conscious of the make of man.
A dreadful friend it is, a terror kind,
A flaming sword to guard the tree of life.
By that unaw'd, man on each pique of pride,
Or gloom of humour, would give rage the rein,
Bound o'er the barrier, rush into the dark,
And mar the schemes of Providence below,
A PRAYER IN THE PROSPECT OF
O Thou unknown Almighty cause
Of all my hope and fear!
In whose dread presence, ere an hour,
Perhaps I must appear!
If I have wander'd in those paths
Of life I ought to shun,
As something loudly in my breast
Remonstrates I have done;
Thou know'st that Thou hast formed me
With passions wild and strong:
And list'ning to their 'witching voice
Has often led me wrong.
Where human weakness has come short,
Or frailty stepp'd aside,
Do Thou, all-good! for such Thou art,
In shades of darkness hide,
Where with intention 1 have err'd,
No other plea I have,
But, Thou art good; and goodness still
Delighteth to forgive.
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