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But only in thy keeping for a season,
Till the great promis'd day of restitution;
When loud diffusive sound of brazen trump
Of strong-lung'd cherub, shall alarm thy captives,
And rouse the long, long sleepers into life,
Day-light and liberty.
Then must thy gates fly open, and reveal
The mines that lay long forming under ground,
In their dark cells immur'd; but now full ripe,
And pure as silver from the crucible,
That twice has stood the torture of the fire
And inquisition of the forge. We know
Th’ illustrious Deliverer of mankind,
The Son of God, thee foild. Him in thy pow'r
Thou couldst not hold: self-vigorous he rose,
And shaking off thy fetters, soon retook
Those spoils his voluntary yielding lent:
(Sure pledge of our releasement from thy thrall!)
Twice twenty days he sojourn’d here on earth,
And shew'd himself alive to chosen witnesses,
By proofs so strong, that the most slow-assenting
Had not a scruple left. This having done,
He mounted up to heaven. Methinks I see him
Climb the aërial height, and glide along
Athwart the sev’ring clouds: but the faint eye,
Flung backward in the chace, soon drops its hold,
Disabled quite, and jaded with pursuing.
Heaven's portals wide expand to let him in;

Nor are his friends shut out: as some great Prince
Not for himself alone procures admission,
But for his train. It was his royal will,
That where he is, there should his followers be.
Death only lies between. A gloomy path!
Made yet more gloomy by our coward fears.
But not untrod nor tedious; the fatigue
Will soon go off: beside, there's no bye-road
To bliss. Then why, like ill-condition'd children,
Start we at transient hardships in the way
That leads to purer air, and softer skies,
And a ne'er-setting sun? Fools that we are!
We wish to be where sweets unwithering bloom;
But strait our wish revoke, and will not go.
So have I seen, upon a summer's ev'n,
Fast by a riv'let's brink, a youngster play:
How wishfully he looks to stem the tide!
This moment resolute, next unresoly’d:.
At last he dips his foot;, but as he dips,
His fears redouble; and he runs away
From th' inoffensive stream, unmindful now
Of all the flow'rs that paint the farther bank,
And smild so sweet of late. Thrice welcomedeath!
That after many a painful bleeding step,
Conducts us to our home, and lands us

safe On the long wish'd-for shore. Prodigious change! Our bane turn'd to our blessing! Death, disarm'd,



Loses his fellness quite. All thanks to Him
Who scourg'd the venom out. Sure the last end
Of the good man is peace. How calm his exit!
Night-dews fall' not more gently to the ground,
Nor weary worn-out winds expire so soft.
Behold him in the evening tide of life,
A life well spent, whose early care it was
His riper years should not upbraid his green:
By unperceiv'd degrees he wears away;
Yet, like the sun, seems larger at his setting?
High in his faith and hopes, look how he reaches
After the prize in view! and, like a bird
That's hamper’d, struggles hard to get away:
Whilst the glad gates of sight are wide expanded

To let new glories in, the first fair fruits
of the fast-coming harvest. Then! oh, then!
Each earth-born joy grows vile, or disappears,
Shrunk to a thing of nought. O how he longs
To have his passport sign'd, and be dismiss'd!
'Tis done, and now he's happy! The glad soul
Has not a wish uncrown'd. Evin the lag flesh
Rests too in hope of meeting once again
Its better half, never to sunder more;
Nor shall it hope in vain; the time draws on,
When not a single spot of burial earth,
Whether on land, or in the spacious sea,
But must give back its long-committed dust,

Inviolate; and faithfully shall these
Make up the full account; not the least atom
Embezzled or mislaid, of the whole tale.
Each soul shall have a body ready-furnish'd;
And each shall have his own. Hence, ye profane!
Ask not, how this can bei Sure the same pow'r
That rear'd the piece at first, and took it down,
Can re-assemble the loose scatter'd parts,
And put them as they were. Almighty God
Has done much more! nor is his arm impair'd
Thro' length of days: and what He can, He will:
His faithfulness stands bound to see it done.
When the dread trumpet sounds,the slumb'ring dust
(Not unattentive to the call) shall wake;
And every joint possess its former place,
With a new elegance of form, unknown
To its first stile. Nor shall the conscious soul
Mistake its partner, but amidst the crowd,
Singling its other half, into its arms
Shall qush with all th' impatience of a man
That's new come home, who, having long been

absent, With haste runs over every different room, In pain to see the whole. Thrice happy meeting! Nor time, nor death, shall ever part them more. 'Tis but a night, a long and moonless night; We make the Grave our bed, and then are gone.

Thus at the shut of ev'n, the weary bird Leaves the wide air, and in some lonely brake .. Cow'rs down, and dozes till the dawn of day, Then claps his well-fledg'd wings, and bears away.

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AT length escap'd from ev'ry human eye,
From ev'ry duty, ev'ry care,
That in my mournful thoughts might claim a share,

Or force'my tears their flowing stream to dry,

Beneath the gloom of this embow'ring shade,
„This lone retreat for tender sorrow made it
I now may give my burden'd heart relief,
And pour forth all my stores of grief;

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