« ÎnapoiContinuă »
The number of thy worshippers. Who reeks
To lessen thee against his purpose serves
To manifest the more thy might: his evil
Thou usest, and from thence creates more good.
Witness this new-made world, another heaven,
From heaven gate not far, founded in view
Of the clear hyaline, the glassy sea;
Of amplitude almost immense, with stars
Numerous, and ev'ry star perhaps a world
Of destin'd habitation; but thou know'st
Their seasons: among thèse the seat of men,
Earth with her nether ocean circumfus’d,
Their pleasant dwelling-place. Thrice happy men,
And sons of men, whom God hath thus advanc'd,
Created in his image, there to dwell
And worship him, and in reward to rule
Over his works, on earth, in sea, or air,
And multiply a race of worshippers
Holy and just: thrice happy if they know
Their happiness, and persevere upright.
So sung they, and the empyrean rung With hallelujahs : Thus was sabbath kept.
JANES. I'm not design'd to say who lies beneath; Which known how useless to the dead and thee! Whoe'er thou art, or rich, or wise, or strong, If thy proud heart is unsubdu'd by grace, Thou hast within thy souls unwearied foeThy condemnation to infernal shades!
Life is uncertain at the longest short! Lo, the grave yawns --eternity's in view!
Say, wretched sinner! how wilt thou escape? But one resource remains—To Jesus fly With eyes full streaming, and a broken heart: Thy stains his blood shall purge-his spirit guide Thy feet into the way of perfect peace. Thus ready for that dreaded, wish'd-for hour, Thro' Death's cold shades thy soul shall fearless pass To some bless'd region, till the awful trump Proclaims the dawn of that eternal day, In which with Jesus thou shalt ever reign.
RESERVED FOR ANOTHER STATE.
LOOK round the world! with what a partial hand
The scale of bliss and mis’ry is sustain'd!
Beneath the shade of cold obscurity
Pale Virtue lies; no arm supports her head,
No friendly voice speaks comfort to her soul,
Nor soft-ey'd Pity drops a melting tear;
But in their stead, Contempt and rude Disdain
Insult the banish'd wand'rer. On she goes
Neglected and forlorn: Disease, and Cold,
And Famine, worst of ills, her steps attend
Yet patient, and to Heaver's just will resign'd,
She ne'er is seen to weep, or heard to sigh.
Now turn your eyes to yon sweet-smelling bow'r, Where, flush'd with all the insolence of wealth, Sits pamper'd Vice! for him th’ Arabian gale Breathes forth delicious odours; Gallia's hills For him pour nectar from the purple vine; Nor think for these he pays the tribute due
To Heaven: of Heaven he never names the name,
Save when, with imprecations dark and dire,
He points his jest obscene. Yet buxom Health
Sits on his rosy cheek; yet Honour gilds
His high exploits, and downy pinion'd Sleep
Sheds a soft opiate o'er his peaceful couch.
Seest thou this, righteous Father! seest thon this, And wilt thou ne'er repay? Shall good and ill Be carry'd undistinguish'd to the land Where all things are forgot? Ah! no; the day Will come when virtue from the cloud shall burst That long obscur'd her beams; when sin shall fly Back to her native hell; there sink eclips'd In penal Jarkness; where nor star shall rise, Nor ever sunshine pierce th' impervious gloom.
UNREASONABLENESS OF DENI
ING A FUTURE STATE.
SCEPTIC! whoe'er thou art, who say'st the soul,
That particle divine, which God's own breath
Inspir'd into the mortal mass, shall rest
Apnihilate, till duration has unrolld
Her never-ending line: tell, if thou know'st,
Why ev'ry nation, ev'ry clime, though all
In laws, in rites, in manners disagree,
With one consent expect another world,
Where wickedness shall weep? Why Painim bards
Fahled Elysian plains, Tartarean lakes,
Styx and Cocytus? Tell why Hali's sons
Have feign'd a paradise of mirth and love,
Banquets and blooming nymphs? Or rather, tell,
Why on the brink of Orellana's stream,
Where never science rear'd her sacred torch,
Th' untutor'd Indian dreams of happier worlds
Behind the cloud-topt hill? Why in each breast
Is plac'd a friendly monitor, that prompts,
Informs, directs, encourages, forbids?
Tell why on unknown evil grief attends;
Or joy on secret good? Why conscience acts
With tenfold force, when sickness, age, or pain,
Stands tottering on the precipice of death?
Or why such horror gnaws the guilty soul
Of dying sinners; while the good man sleeps
Peaceful and calm, and with a smile expires