A God, a God! the vocal hills reply;
The rocks proclaim the approaching Deity.
Lo, earth receives him from the bending skies!
Sink down, ye mountains; and ye valleys rise!
With heads declined, ye cedars homage pay;
Be smooth, ye rocks; ye rapid floods, give way.
The Saviour comes! by ancient bards foretold:
Hear him, ye deaf; and all ye blind, behold!
He from thick films shall purge the visual ray,
And on the guiltless eye-ball pour the day:
Tis he the obstructed paths of sound shall clear,
And bids new music charm the unfolding ear:
The dumb shall sing, the lame his crutch forego,
And leap exulting, like the bounding roe.
No sigh, no murmur, the wide world shall hear;
From every face he wipes off every tear.
In adamantine chains shall death be bound,
And hell's grim tyrant feel the eternal wound.
As the good shepherd tends his fleecy care,
Seeks freshest pasture, and the purest air;
Explores the last, the wandr'ing sheep directs,
By day o'ersees them, and by night protects;
The tender lambs he raises in his arms,
Feeds from his hand, and in his bosom warms:
Thus shall mankind his guardian care engage,
The promised father of the future age.
No more shall nation against nation rise,
Nor ardent warriors meet with hateful eyes,
Nor fields with gleeming steel be cover❜d o’er,
The brazen trumpets kindle rage no more;
But useless lances into scythes shall bend,
And the broad falchion in a plough-share end.
Then palaces shall rise; the joyful son
Shall finish what his short-lived sire begun;
Their vines a shadow to their race shall yield,
And the same hand that sow'd, shall reap the field.
The swain in barren deserts with surprise
Sees lilies spring, and sudden verdure rise;
And starts amidst the thirsty wilds to hear
New falls of water murmuring in his ear,
On rifted rocks, the dragons' late abodes,
The green reed trembles, and the bulrush nods.
Waste sandy valleys, once perplex'd with thorn,
The spiry fir and shapely box adorn;
The leafless shrubs the flow'ry palm succeed, - And odorous myrtle to the noisome weed. The lambs with wolves shall graze the verdant mead,
And boys in flowery bands the tiger lead.
The steer and lion at one crib shall meet,
And harmless serpents lick the pilgrims' feet.
The smiling infant in his hand shall take
The crested basilisk and speckled snake,
Pleased, the green lustre of the scales survey,
And with the forky tongue shall innocently play.
Rise, crown'd with light, imperial Salem rise!
Exalt thy towery head, and lift thy eyes!
See a long race thy spacious courts adorn;
See future sons, and daughters yet unborn,
In crouding ranks on every side arise,
Demanding life, impatient for the skies!
See barbarous nations at thy gates attend,
Walk in thy light, and in thy temple bend;
See thy bright altars throng'd with prostrate
kings,
And heap'd with products of Sabean springs!
For Thee Idume's icy forests blow,
And seeds of gold in Opher's mountains glow,
See heaven its sparkling portals wide display,
And break upon them in a flood of day!
No more the rising sun shall gild the morn,
Nor evening Synthia fill her silver horn;
But lost, dissolved in thy superior rays,
One tide of glory, one unclouded blaze
O'erflow thy courts: the Light himself shall shine
Revealed-and God's eternal day be thine!
The seas shall waste, the skies in smoke decay,
Rocks fall to dust, and mountains melt away;
But fix'd his word, his saving power remains;
Thy realm for ever lasts, thy own Messiah reigns!
Good name in man or woman is the immediate jewel of their souls.
Who steals my purse, steals trash; 'tis something, nothing;
'Twas mine, 'tis his, and may be slave to thousands;
But he that filches from me my good name,
Robs me of that which not enriches him,
But makes me poor indeed.
NIGHT THOUGHTS AMONG THE TOMES.
Struck with religious awe and solemn dread,
I view these gloomy mansions of the dead;
Around me tombs in mix'd disorder rise,
And in mute language teach me to be wise.
Time was these ashes lived; a time must be,
When others thus may stand and gaze at me.
Well does yonder tombstone say-
As I am now, so you must be,
Prepare in time to follow me.
Here, blended, lie the aged and the young,
The rich and poor, an undistinguished throng:
Death conquers all, and Times' subduing hand,
or tombs, nor marble statues can withstand.
Mark yonder ashes, in confusion spread! Compare earth's living tenants with her dead! How striking the resemblance, yet how just! Once life and soul informed this mass of dust: Around these bones, now broken and decay'd The streams of life in various channels play'd, Perhaps that skull, so horrible to view,
Was some fair maid's, ye belles' as fair as you. These hollow sockets two bright orbs contain'd Where the loves sported, and in triumph reigned:
Here glow'd the lips; there white as Parian stone,
The teeth disposed in beauteous order shone. This is life's goal-no farther can we view; Beyond it, all is wonderful and new.
O say, ye spirits, in a future state
Why do ye hide the secrets of your fate?
Nor tell your endless pains or joys to none,
Is it that man may live by faith alone?
The grave has eloquence, its lectures teach
In silence louder than divines can preach.
Hear what it says-ye sons of folly! hear;
It speaks to you-lend an attentive ear;
It bids you lay all vanity aside;
A humbling lecture this for human pride.
The clock strikes twelve-how solemn is the
Hark, how the strokes from hollow vaults rebound!
They bid us hasten to be wise, and show
How rapid in their course our minutes flow.
Now airy shapes, and hideous spectres dance
Athwart imagination's vivid glance;
The felon now attacks the miser's door,
And ruthless murder prints her steps with gore;
Dull fancy now her dreary path pursues,
'Midst groves of cyprus, and unhallow'd yews;
Poetic visions vanish from my brain,
And my pulse throbs as feebly as my strain.
What means this sudden, strange, unusual start,
This solemn something creeping to my heart?
Why fear to read a gracious God's decree?
Why fear to look on that I soon must be?
Can man be thoughtless of his end? or proud
Of charms that claim the coffin or the shroud?
Come, let him read these sculptur'd tombstones
o'er,
Here fix his thoughts, and then be vain no more.
Let proud ambition learn this lesson hence,
Howe'er distinguished, dignified for sense;
Whate'er the honour'd ensigns of renown,
The cap, the hood, the mitre or the crown,
Death levels all; nor parts, nor pow'rs can save;
Milton himself must moulder in the grave,
Who sang and prov'd with inspiration strong
The soul immortal, in immortal song.
Hark! thus death speaks; ingenious sons of
Why boast the chisel, pencil, or the pen?
Will Fame, who oft denies her children bread,
Deceive the living, discompose the dead?
No; Fame's a breath, it cannot worth supply,
Nor yield you comfort when you come to die;
In these dark realms all opposites agree,
The heirs of wealth, and sons of poverty.
Beneath that sculptur'd, pompous, marble stone
Lies youthful Florio, aged twenty-one;
Cropp'd like a flow'r, he withered in his bloom,
Tho' flattering life had promis'd years to come.
Ye silken sons, ye Florios of the age!
Why tread in giddy maze, life's flow'ry stage?
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