EARTH AND HEAVEN. HAST thou not seen, impatient boy? 'Pleasure must be dash'd with pain:' The thirsty boy repeats the taste, Nor hearkens to despair, but tries the bowl again. The rills of pleasure never run sincere; (Earth has no unpolluted spring) From the curs'd soil some dangerous taint they bear; So roses grow on thorns, and honey wears a sting. In vain we seek a heaven below the sky; The world has false, but flattering, charms : Earth, with her scenes of gay delight, With glaring colors, and false light; But bring the nauseous daubing nigh, Look up, my soul, pant toward the eternal hills; Those heavens are fairer than they seem; There pleasures all sincere glide on in crystal rills, There not a dreg of guilt defiles, Nor grief disturbs the stream. That Canaan knows no noxious thing, No curs'd soil, no tainted spring, Nor roses grow on thorns, nor honey wears a sting. FELICITY ABOVE. No, 'tis in vain to seek for bliss ; For bliss can ne'er be found Till we arrive where Jesus is, And tread on heavenly ground. There's nothing round these painted skies, Nothing, my soul, that's worth thy joys, 'Tis heaven on earth to taste his love, To feel his quickening grace; And all the heaven I hope above Is but to see his face. Why move my years in slow delay? O God of ages! why? Let all the spheres cleave, and mark my way To the superior sky. Dear Sovereign, break these vital strings Take me, Uriel, on thy wings, GOD'S DOMINION AND DECREES. KEEP silence, all created things, And wait your Maker's nod: The muse stands trembling while she sings The honours of her God. Life, death, and hell, and worlds unknown, Hang on his firm decree: He sits on no precarious throne, Nor borrows leave to be. The almighty Voice bid ancient Night And lo, ten thousand globes of light Now wisdom, with superior sway, He spake the sun obedient stood, Lord of the armies of the sky, He marshals all the stars; Chain'd to his throne, a volume lies, His providence unfolds the book, And makes his counsels shine: Each opening leaf, and every stroke, Fulfils some deep design. Here he exalts neglected worms Anon the following page he turns, Not Gabriel asks the reason why, My God, I never long'd to see In thy fair book of life and grace SELF CONSECRATION. Ir grieves me, Lord, it grieves me sore, That I have liv'd to thee no more, And wasted half my days; My inward powers shall burn and flame, |