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Yet bliss awaits the holy heart,
A CHURCH-YARD SCENE.
How sweet and solemn, all alone,
To meditate, in Christian love,
Such is the scene around me now:
A little church-yard on the brow
Of a green, pastoral hill:
Its sylvan village sleeps below,
And faintly, here, is heard the flow
A place where all things mournful meet,
With what a pensive beauty fall
Across the mossy, mouldering wall
That rose-tree's cluster'd arches! See!
Bright through the blossoms leaves his nest :
What lulling sound, and shadow cool
Thou gorgeous sycamore!
Oft have the holy wine and bread
Now, all beneath the turf are laid
Above that consecrated tree
Ascends the tapering spire, that seems
To heaven, with all its dreams;
UNDER THE PRESSURE OF VIOLENT ANGUISH.
O THOU Great Being! what thou art
Surpasses me to know;
Yet sure I am that known to thee
Thy creature here before thee stands,
Yet sure those ills that wring my soul
Sure thou, Almighty, canst not act
O, free my weary eyes from tears,
But if I must afflicted be,
To suit some wise design;
Then man my soul with firm resolves
EXODUS XX. 12.
THE Voice of nature, yea, the voice of God,
And led our tottering steps to walk in wisdom's way.
A parent is indeed a tender friend,
And if once lost, we never more shall find
A bosom that so tremblingly can blend
Its feelings with our own congenial mind; Our lips may speak their anguish to the wind That hurries heedlessly and wildly by
Our hearts, to lonely agony consign'd,
May throb without relief-for no reply
Comes from the mouldering breasts that in their gravebed lie.
And then we pause to think-alas! how late!—
Oh! but once more to see their face!—'t is vain!— Once more to hear their voice!-'t is sweetly driven Across our fancy, and expires,—and then
We wish ourselves away-away to heaven,
WHERE can I go from Thee!
Nature, and Time, and Thought, thine impress bear; Through earth, or sea, or sky,
Though wide and far I fly,
I turn, and find Thee present with me there.
The perfume of the rose,
And every flower that blows,
All mark thy love; the clusters of the vale,
The fruits the garden yields,
Proclaim the bounties that can never fail.
The vapor and the cloud,
The thunder bursting loud,
Speak of thy majesty in words of flame;
The ocean as it roars,
Lashing the rocks and shores,
The vasty globes that roll,
Each on his own firm pole,
Through all the boundless fields of space alone,