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Satan gains admission to his heart, and in the temporary absence of his guardian angel, Phylacter, under the form of a spirit of light, lures the unsuspecting youth to an aërial journey, in quest of 'celestial prospects.' The chariot destined to convey him in this perilous voyage was formed of six round shields, and drawn by 'airy ghosts,' chosen out of the apostate army. After various temptations, Satan descends with Hymnotheo in the beautiful gardens of Daphne, which are described with some spirit. Having indulged himself in all the luxuries of this seductive abode, the youth begins to think of committing suicide, when Satan reappears and conveys him to a mountain cave near Smyrna, the resort of banditti, who elect him their captain. At this critical period, St. John revisits Smyrna, and having learned from Polycarp the melancholy fate of Hymnotheo, he immediately sets out to discover his hiding-place, and succeeds in awakening a feeling of repentance in his bosom. Satan, however, again recovers his ascendancy over the youth, who is rescued from his power by the interference of his guardian angel, and delivered up to St. John, whom he accompanies in a chariot drawn by eagles, while a vision of the future world-the miseries of the wicked and the happiness of the blest-passes before him. After numerous scenes of penitential suffering Hymnotheo is reconciled to the church." The original source of this poem, which is very pious in spirit, and very shambling and incongruous in execution, is to be found in the Ecclesiastical History of Eusebius.


Thrice happy man, lodged in sweet private shade,
Which nor contempt nor envy e'er invade;
Who has great God his Father and his Friend,
Who heaven proposes for his journey's end;

Wont to his God his troubles to disclose,

And from his promise to derive repose;

Whose prayers ascend to heaven with vig'rous flight,
Who keeps God always in his awful sight;
Ejaculating praise in every place,

Who to his work, as to his meat, says grace;
To whose repentance God a pardon seals;
Who the reviving rays of pardon feels;
Whose zeal is for God's glory ever warm,
Who would his life, not ancient faith, reform;
Who all his dangers on his God depends,
Whose safety an angelic host defends;
Who persecuted duty ne'er declines;
Whose spirit trouble breaks not, but refines;
Who daily sacred writ devoutly reads,
And with fresh subjects meditation feeds;
Whose inoffensive conscience at full rest,
Creates habitual joy within his breast;
In simple truth whose wisdom only lies,
And never feels embroilments of disguise;
Who all affronts with patience entertains,
And ground by meekness, not abjection, gains;
Who by converse his neighbour ne'er defiles,
Who none despises, injures, or reviles;
Whose charity, like God, is unconfined,
And would be benefactor to mankind;
Whose little flock by liberal alms is blessed,
Who oft makes Jesus, in the poor, his guest;
Whose virtue's uniform, and heart sincere,
To others easy, to himself severe;

Who well meant error with compassion treats,
Fired by no party with eccentric heats;
Whose soft reproofs have an obliging force;
Who with a relish can of heaven discourse;
Who by example more than counsel sways,
Who ills with overplus of good repays;
Who others' wrongs, as God his sins, forgives,
Of his own heart in jealous caution lives;
His ghostly watch and weapons daily plies,
Ne'er thinks his spirit safe from a surprise;
His tenderest concerns with God can trust,
And rather would be needy than unjust;
Who acquiesces in plain truths revealed,
Pries into no abstrusities concealed;

Primeval saintship reverently esteems,
In his religion owns no modern schemes;
Whom no one fashionable vice can taint,
Who in a Sodom can continue saint;

Who in the world, makes from the world retreat,
Still studies to be rather good than great;
In a mean pleasant cottage stands secure,
Wondering how men can wealth and pomp endure;
Resolves town noise, stink, philtres to avoid,
Still on his field, or on a book employed;
Of temper even, of a constant mind,

Whom no strong passion can enslave or blind;
Whose duty lies in a proportioned sphere,
Has competence his station to endear;
Would be himself, and nothing else requires,
No disappointment feels, since no desires;
Chooses plain, wholesome, cleanly food to eat,
Rising refreshed, not glutted, from his meat;
Free from the anguish of a life misled,

And previous horrors which the impious dread;
Who from God's blessings severs the abuse,
Has no fruition of the world but use;
Whose care is for the present manna spent,
Who with his daily omer lives content;
Who takes in revolutions the right side,
And makes the law, not multitude, his guide;
Who still remembers death before he sleeps,
His last accounts adjusted daily keeps;
Who public sins with secret tears bewails,
And for arrest of judgment oft prevails!

Who when great God for vengeance armed appears,
Has midst a shower of thunderbolts no fears;
No bolts at his innocuous head are aimed,

Who all the sins which drew them down disclaimed;
Who is the mighty Thunderer's constant care,
And stops his ireful hand by fervent prayer;
His will to God strives wholly to resign,
Who has no will himself but the divine;
Prepared to undergo a martyr's doom,
Yet dares not to seek martyrdom presume;
Who daily grows of bliss more humbly sure,
More like to Jesus, more for heaven mature;
Sings his own Nunc dimittis when he dies,
And on his angel's wings to glory flies.


Awake, my soul! and with the sun
Thy daily stage of duty run;
Shake off dull sloth, and joyful rise
To pay thy morning sacrifice.

Thy precious time misspent, redeem;
Each present day thy last esteem;
Improve thy talents with due care,
For the great day thyself prepare.

In conversation be sincere

Keep conscience as the noontide clear; Think how all-seeing God thy ways, And all thy secret thoughts surveys.

By influence of the light divine,
Let thy own light to others shine;
Reflect all heaven's propitious rays,
In ardent love and cheerful praise.

Wake, and lift up thyself, my heart,
And with the angels bear a part,
Who all night long unwearied sing
High praise to the eternal King.

I wake! I wake! ye heavenly choir,
May your devotion me inspire,
That I, like you, my age may spend,
Like you, may on my God attend.

May I, like you, in God delight,
Have all day long my God in sight,
Perform, like you, my Maker's will;-
may I never more do ill.

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Had I your wings, to heaven I'd fly,
But God shall that defect supply;
And my soul winged with warm desire,
Shall all day long to heaven aspire.

All praise to Thee, who safe hast kept,
And hast refreshed me while I slept.
Grant, Lord, when I from death awake,
I may of endless life partake.

I would not wake or rise again,
Even heaven itself I would disdain,
Were not Thou there to be enjoyed,
And I in hymns to be employed.

Heaven is, dear Lord, where'er Thou art;
O, never Thou from me depart;

For to my soul, 'tis hell to be,

But for one moment, void of Thee.

Lord, I my vows to Thee renew,
Disperse my sins as morning dew;

Guard my first springs of thought and will,
And with thyself my spirit fill.

Direct, control, suggest this day,
All I design, or do, or say;

That all my powers, with all their might,
In thy sole glory may unite.

Praise God from whom all blessings flow,
Praise Him, all creatures here below,
Praise Him above, ye heavenly host,
Praise Father, Son, and Holy Ghost!


Pain keeps me waking in the night,
I longing lie for morning's light;
Methinks the sluggish Sun

Forgets he this day's course must run:
O heavenly torch, why this delay
In giving us our wonted day?

Sure some new spots your face besmcar,
And you're ashamed to reappear;
Ör clouds surround your head,

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