GREAT God! how awful is the scene!
A breath, a transient breath, between,
And can I trifle life away?
To earth, alas! too firmly bound,
Trees deeply rooted in the ground,
Are shiver'd when they're torn away!
Vain joys, which envied greatness gains,
How do ye bind with silken chains,
Which ask immortal strength to break!
How with new terrors have ye arm'd,
That power whose slightest glance alarm'd !
How many deaths of one ye make!
Yet, dumb with wonder, I behold
Man's thoughtless race, in error bold,
Forget, or scorn, the laws of death;
With these no projects coincide,
Nor vows, nor toils, nor hopes, they guide—
Each thinks he draws immortal breath!
Each, blind to fate's approaching hour,
Intrigues, or fights, for wealth or power,
And slumbering danger dares provoke :
And he who, tottering, scarce sustains
A century's age, plans future gains,
And feels an unexpected stroke!
YET a few years, or days perhaps,
Or moments, pass in silent lapse,
And time to me shall be no more;
No more the sun these eyes shall view;
Earth o'er these limbs her dust shall strew;
And life's fantastic dream be o'er.
Alas, I touch the dreadful brink!
From nature's verge impell'd I sink!
And gloomy darkness wraps me round!
Yes!-death is ever at my hand,
Fast by my bed he takes his stand,
And constant at my board is found!
But then, this spark that warms, that guides,
That lives, that thinks-what fate betides?
Can this be dust?-a kneaded clod!
This yield to death! the soul, the mind,
That measures heaven, and mounts the wind,
That knows at once itself and God!
Great cause of all, above, below,-
Who knows Thee, must for ever know
Thou art immortal and divine!
Thine image on my soul imprest,
Of endless being is the test,
And bids eternity be mine!
Transporting thought! but am I sure
That endless life will joy secure?-
Joys only to the just decreed !-
The guilty wretch, expiring goes
Where vengeance endless life bestows,
That endless misery may succeed!
SWEET day, so cool, so calm, so bright,
Bridal of earth and sky,
The dew shall weep thy fall to-night ;
For thou, alas! must die.
Sweet rose, in air whose odours wave,
And colour charms the eye,
Thy root is ever in its grave,
And thou, alas! must die.
Sweet spring, of days and roses made,
Whose charms for beauty vie,
Thy days depart, thy roses fade,
Thou too, alas! must die.
Be wise then, Christian, while you may, For swiftly time is flying;
The thoughtless man, that laughs to-day, Tomorrow will be dying.
My stock lies dead, and no increase
Doth my dull husbandry improve :
O let thy graces without cease
If still the sun should hide his face,
Thy house would but a dungeon prove,
Thy works, nights' captives: O let grace
Drop from above.
The dew doth every morning fall;
And shall the dew outstrip thy dove?
The dew, for which grass cannot call,
Drops from above.
Death is still working like a mole,
And digs my grave at each remove :
Let grace work too, and on my soul
Drop from above.
Sin is still hammering my heart,
Unto a hardness void of love:
Let supplying grace, to cross his art,
O come! for thou dost know the way; Or, if to me thou wilt not move, Remove me where I need not say
FROM Greenland's icy mountains,
From India's coral sand,
Where Afric's sunny fountains,
Roll down their golden sand;
From many an ancient river,
From many a balmy plain
They call us to deliver
Their land from error's chain.
What though the spicy breezes
Blow soft on Ceylon's isle,
Though every prospect pleases,
And only man is vile:
In vain with lavish kindness,
The gifts of God are shewn,
The Heathen in his blindness
Bows down to wood and stone.
Shall we whose souls are lighted
With wisdom from on high;
Shall we to man benighted
The lamp of life deny?
Salvation! oh, Salvation!
The joyful sound proclaim
Till each remotest nation
Has learnt Messiah's name.
Waft, waft ye winds his story,
And you ye waters roll,
|