Thus shall our mouldering members teach

What now our senses learn:

For dust and ashes loudest preach
Man's infinite concern.

A SIGHT OF HEAVEN IN SICKNESS.

OFT have I sat in secret sighs,

To feel my flesh decay,

Then groan'd aloud with frighted eyes,
To view the tottering clay.

But I forbid my sorrows now,
Nor dares the flesh complain;
Diseases bring their profit too;
The joy o'ercomes the pain.

My cheerful soul now all the day
Sits waiting here and sings;
Looks through the ruins of her clay,
And practises her wings.

Faith almost changes into sight,

While from afar she spies,

Her fair inheritance, in light,

Above created skies.

Had but the prison walls been strong,
And firm without a flaw,

In darkness she had dwelt too long,
And less of glory saw.

But now the everlasting hills
Through every chink appear,
And something of the joy she feels
While she's a prisoner here.

The shines of heaven rush sweetly in
At all the gaping flaws:
Visions of endless bliss are seen,
And native air she draws.

O may these walls stand tottering still,
The breaches never close,
If I must here in darkness dwell,
And all this glory lose!

Or rather let this flesh decay,
The ruins wider grow,

Till glad to see the enlarged way,

I stretch my pinions through.

THE UNIVERSAL HALLELUJAH.

PSALM CXLVIII.

PARAPHRASED.

PRAISE ye the Lord with joyful tongue,
Ye powers that guard his throne;
Jesus the man shall lead the song,
The God inspire the tune.

Gabriel, and all the immortal choir
That fill the realms above;
Sing: for he form'd you of his fire,
And feeds you with his love.

Shine to his praise, ye crystal skies,
The floor of his abode,

Or veil your little twinkling eyes
Before a brighter God.

Thou restless globe of golden light,
Whose beams create our days,
Join with the silver queen of night,
To own your borrow'd rays.

Blush and refund the honours paid

To your inferior names:

Tell the blind world, your orbs are fed
By his o'erflowing flames.

Winds, ye shall hear his name aloud
Through the ethereal blue;
For when his chariot is a cloud,
He makes his wheels of you.

Thunder and hail, and fires and storms,
The troops of his command,
Appear in all your dreadful forms,
And speak his awful hand.

Shout to the Lord, ye surging seas,

In your eternal roar;

Let wave to wave resound his praise,
And shore reply to shore:

While monsters sporting on the flood,
In scaly silver shine,
Speak terribly their maker God,

And lash the foaming brine.

But gentler things shall tune his name
To softer notes than these,

Young zephyrs breathing o'er the stream,
Or whispering through the trees.

Wave your tall heads, ye lofty pines,
To him that bid you grow,

Sweet clusters, bend the fruitful vines
On every thankful bough.

Let the shrill birds his honour raise,
And climb the morning sky;

While grovelling beasts attempt his praise,
In hoarser harmony.

Thus while the meaner creatures sing,
Ye mortals, take the sound,
Echo the glories of your king,
Through all the nations round.

The eternal name must fly abroad,
From Britain to Japan;

And the whole race shall bow to God
That owns the name of man.

THE ATHEIST'S MISTAKE.

LAUGH, ye profane, and swell and burst With bold impiety;

Yet shall ye live for ever curs'd,

And seek in vain to die.