Laden with guilt (a heavy load)

Jesus, then, purge my crimes away, Uncleans'd and unforgiven,

'Tis guilt creates my fears ; The soul returns tan angry God,

'Tis guilt gives Death its fierce array, To be shut out from Heaven

And all the arms it bears.
Oh! if my threatening sins were gone,

And Death had lost his sting,

I could invite the angel on,

And chide his lazy wing.

Away these interposing days,

And let the lovers meet; Fairest of all the lights above,

The angel has a cold embrace, Thou Sun, whose beams adorn the spheres,

But kind, and soft, and sweet. And with unrearied swiftness move,

I'd leap at once my seventy years, To form the circles of our years;

I'd rush into his arms, Praise the Creator of the skies,

And lose my breath, and all my cares, That dress'd thine orb in golden rays;

Amidst those heavenly charms. Or may the Sun forget to rise,

Joyful I'd lay this body down, If he forget his Maker's praise !

And leave the lifeless clay, Thou reigning beanty of the night,

Without a sigh, without a groan,
Fair queen of silence, silver Moon,

And stretch and soar away.
Whose gentle beams and borrow'd light
Are softer rivals of the noon;
Arise, and to that Sovereign Power
Waxing and waning honours pay,

Who bade thee rule the dusky hour,
And half supply the absent day.

ALMIGATY Maker, God!
Ye twinkling Stars, who gild the skies

How wondrous is thy name! When darkness has its curtains drawn,

Thy glories how diffus'd abroad Who keep your watch, with wakeful eyes,

Through the creation's frame! When business, cares, and day, are gone:

Nature in every dress Proclaim the glories of your Lord,

Her humble homage pays, Dispers'd through all the heavenly street,

And finds a thousand ways t'express Whose boundless treasures can afford

Thine undissembled praise. So rich a pavement for his feet.

In native white and red Thou Heaven of Heavens, supremely bright,

The rose and lily stand, Fair palace of the court divine,

And, free from pride, their beauties spread, Where, with inimitable light,

To show thy skilful hand.
The Godhead condescends to shine;
Praise thou thy great inhabitant,

The lark mounts up the sky,
Who scatters lovely beams of grace

With unambitious song, On every angel, every saint,

And bears her Maker's praise on high Nor veils the lustre of his face.

Upon her artless tongue. O God of Glory, God of Love,

My soul would rise and sing Thou art the Sun that makes our days:

To her Creator too; With all thy shining works above,

Pain would my tongue adore my King, Let earth and dust attempt thy praise.

And pay the worship due.
But pride, that busy sin,

Spoils all that I perform;

Curs'd pride, that creeps securely in, THE WELCOME MESSENGER.

And swells a haughty worm. LORD, when we see a saint of thine

Thy glories I abate,

Or praise thee with design; Lie gasping out his breath,

Some of the favours I forget,
With longing eyes, and looks divine,

Or think the merit mine.
Smiling and pleas'd in death;
How we could ev'n contend to lay

The very songs I frame
Our limbs upon that bed!

Are faithless to thy cause, We ask thine envoy to convey

And steal the honours of thy name Our spirits in his stead.

To build their own applause. Our souls are rising on the wing,

Create my soul anew, To venture in his place;

Else all my worship's vain ; For, when grim Death has lost his sting,

This wretched heart will ne'er be true He has an angel's face.

Until 'tis form'd again.

[blocks in formation]

Happy the feet that shining Truth has led

Our headstrong lusts, like a young fiery horse, With her own hand to tread the path she please, Start and free, raging in a violent course; (them, To see her native lustre round her spread,

He tames and breaks them, manages and rides Without a veil, without a shade,

Checks their career, and turns and guides them, All beauty, and all light, as in herself she is !

And bids his reason bridle their licentious force. Our senses cheat us with the pressing crowds

Lord of himself, he rules his wildest thoughts, Of painted shapes they thrust upon the mind : The truth they show lies wrapp'd in sevenfold shrouds,

And boldly acts what calmly he design'd,

While he looks down and pities human faults; Our senses cast a thousand clouds

Nor can he think, nor can he find, On umenlighten’d souls, and leave them doubly blind.

A plague like reigning passions, and a subject mind. I hate the dust that fierce disputers raise, And lose the mind in a wild maze of thought :

But oh! 'tis mighty toil to reach this height, . What empty triilings, and what empty ways,

To vanquish self is a laborious art; To fence and guard by rule and roie! [not. What manly courage to sustain the fight, Our God will nerer charge us, That we knew them To bear the noble pain, and part [heart! Touch, heavenly Word, O touch these curious souls: With those dear charming tempters rooted in the Since I have heard but one soft hint from thee, From all the vain opinions of the schools

'Tis hard to stand when all the passions move, (That pageantry of knowing fools)

Hard to awake the eye that passion blinds; I feel my powers releas’d, and stand divinely free. To rend and tear out this unhappy love, 'Twas this Almighty Word that all things made,

That clings so close about our minds, He grasps whole Nature in his single hand;

And where th'enchanted soul so sweet a poison finds. All the eternal truths in him are laid, The ground of all things, and their head, (stand.

Hard; but it may be done. Come, heavenly fire, The circle where they move, and centre where they

Come to my breast, and with one powerful ray

Melt off' iny lusts, my fetters: I can bear Without his aid I have no sure defence,

A while to be a tenant here, From troops of errours that besiege me round; But not be chain’d and prison'd in a cage of clay. But he that rests his reason and his sense Fast here, and never wanders hence,

Heaven is my home, and I must use my wings; Unmoveable he dwells upon unshaken ground.

Sublime above the globe my flight aspires: Infinite Truth, the life of my desires,

I have a soul was made to pity kings, Come from the sky, and join thyself to me:

And all their little glittering things; I'm tir'd with hearing, and this reading tires;

I have a soul was made for infinite desires. But never tir'd of telling thee, “ 'Tis thy fair face alone my spirit burns to see.” Loos'd from the Earth, my heart is upward flown ; Speak to my soul, alone; no other hand

Farewell, my friends, and all that once was inine: Shall mark my path out with delusive art:

Now, should you fix my feet on Cæsar's throne,

Crown me, and call the world my own, [conline. All nature, silent in his presence stand; Creatures, be dumb at his command,

The gold that binds my brows could ne'er my soul And leave his single voice to whisper to my heart.

I am the Lord's, and Jesus is my love; Retire, my soul, within thyself retire,

He, the dear God, shall till my vast desire. Away from sense and every outward show :

My flesh below; yet I can du ell above, Now let my thoughts to loftier theines aspire;

And nearer to my Saviour move; My kuowledge now on whcels of fire

There all my soul shall centre, all my pow'rs conspire.
May mount and spread above, surveying all below.
The Lord grows lavish of his heavenly light,

Thus I with angels live; thus half-divine
And pours whole floods on such a mind as this: I sit on high, nor inind inferior joys:
Fled from the eyes, she gains a piercing sight, Fill’d with his love, I feel that God is mine,
She dives into the infinite,

His glory is my great design,
And sees unutterable things in that unknown abyss.” That everlasting project all my thoughts employs



The rolling mountains of the deep
A SONG TO CREATING WISDOM. Observe his strong command;

His breath can raise the billows steep,

Or sink them to the sand.

Amidst thy watery kingdoms, Lord, ETERNAL Wisdom, thee we praise,

The finny nations play, Thee the creation sings:

And scaly monsters, at thy word,
With thy loud name, rocks, hills, and seas,

Rush through the northern sea.
And Heaven's high palace rings.
Place me on the bright wings of Day

To travel with the Sun;
With what amaze shall I survey

Thy glories blaze all nature round,
The wonders thou hast done!

And strike the gazing sight,

Through skies, and seas, and solid ground, Thy hand how wide it spread the sky!

With terrour and delight.
How glorious to behold!
Ting'd with a blue of heavenly dye,

Infinite strength, and equal skill,
And starr'd with sparkling gold.

Shine through the worlds abroad,

Our souls with vast amazement fill, There thou hast bid the globes of light

And speak the builder God.
Their endless circles run;

But the sweet beauties of thy grace
There the pale planet rules the night,
And day obeys the Sun.

Our softer passions move;

Pity divine in Jesu's face

We see, adore, and love,
Downward I turn my wondering eyes

On clouds and storms below, Those under-regions of the skies

GOD'S ABSOLUTE DOMINION. Thy numerous glories show. The noisy winds stand ready there

Lord, when my thoughtful soul surveys Thy orders to obey,

Fire, air, and earth, and stars, and seas, With sounding wings they sweep the air,

I call them all thy slaves; To make thy chariot way.

Commission'd by my Father's will, There, like a trumpet, loud and strong,

Poisons shall cure, or balms shall kill; Thy thunder shakes our coast;

Vernal suns, or Zephyr's breath, While the red lightnings wave along,

May burn or blast the plants to death

That sharp December saves ; The banners of thine host.

What can winds or planets boast On the thin air, without a prop,

But a precarious power? Hang fruitful showers around :

The Sun is all in darkness lost, At thy command they sink, and drop

Frost shall be fire, and fire be frost,
Their fatness on the ground.

When he appoints the hour.
Lo, the Norwegians near the polar sky

Chafe their frozen limbs with snow;
Now to the Earth I bend my song,

Their frozen limbs awake and glow; And cast my eyes abroad,

The vital flame, touch'd with a strange supply, Glancing the British isles along;

Rekindles, for the God of life is nigh;

He bids the vital flood in wonted circles flow. Blest Isles, confess your God.

Cold steel, expos'd to northern air, How did his wondrous skill array

Drinks the meridian fury of the midnight Bear, Your fields in charming green !

And burns th’unwary stranger there.
A thousand herbs his art display,
A thousand flowers between.

Inquire, my soul, of ancient Fame,

Look back two thousand years, and see Tall oaks for future navies grow,

Th’ Assyrian prince transform'd a brute, Fair Albion's best defence,

For boasting to be absolute: While corn and vines rejoice below,

Once to his court the God of Israel came, Those luxuries of sense.

A King more absolute than he. The bleating flocks his pasture feeds:

I see the furnace blaze with rage And herds of larger size,

Sevenfold: I see amidst the fame That bellow through the Lindian meads,

Three Hebrews of immortal name: His bounteous hand supplies.

They move, they walk across the burning stage

Unhurt, and fearless, while the tyrant stood PART IV.

A statue; fear congeal'd his blood:

Nor did the raging element dare We see the Thames caress the shores ;

Attempt their garments, or their hair: He guides her silver flood;

It knew the Lord of nature there. While angry Severn swells and roars,

Nature, compell’d by a superior cause, Yet hears her ruler, God.

Now breaks her own eternal laws,


Now seems to break them, and obeys

The mysteries of creation lic Her sovercign King in different ways.

Beneath enlighten'd minds ; Father, how bright thy glories shine!

Thoughts can ascend above the sky, How broad thy kingdom, how divine!

And fly before the winds. Nature, and Miracle, and Fare, and Chance, are thine.

Reason may grasp the massy hills, Hence from my heart, ye idols, flee,

And stretch from pole to pole ; Ye sounding names of vanity!

But half thy name our spirit fills,
No more my lips shall sacrifice

And overloads our soul.
To chance and nature, tales and lies:
Creatures without a God can yield me no supplies.

In vain our haughty reason swells,
What is the sun, or what the shade,

For nothing's found in thee

But boundless unconceivables,
Or frosts, or flames, to kill or save?
His favour is my life, his lips pronounce ne dead;

And vast eternity.
And, as his awful dictates bid,
Earth is my inother, or my grave.




When the Eternal bows the skies,

To visit earthly things,
With scurn divine he turns his eyes

From towers of haughty kings;
Rides on a cloud disdainful by

A sultan, or a czar,
Langhs at the worms that rise so high,

Or frowns them from afar :
He bids his awful chariot roll

Par downward from the skies,
To visit every humble soul,

With pleasure in his eyes.
Why should the Lord that reigns al ove

Disdain so lofty kings?
Say, Lord, and why such looks of love

Upon such worthless things?
Mortals, be dumb: what creature dares

Dispute his awful will ?
Ask no account of his affairs,

But treinble, and be still.
Just like his nature is his grace,

All sovereign, and all free;
Great Gud, how searchless are thy ways !

How deep thy judgments be!

Aras, my aching heart!

Here the keen torment lies;
Il racks my waking hours with smart,

And frights my slumbering eyes.
Guilt will be hid no more,

My griefs take vent apace;
The crimes that blot my conscience o'er

Flush crimson in my face.
My sorrows, like a flood

Impatient of restraint,
Into thy bosom, O my God,

Pour out a long complaint,
This impious heart of mine

Could once defy the Lord,
Could rush with violence on to sin,

In presence of thy sword.
How often have I stood

A rebel to the skies,
The calls, the tenders of a God,

And mercy's loudest cries !
He offers all his grace,

And all his heaven, to me;
Offers! but 'tis to senseless brass,

That cannot feel nor see,
Jesus the Saviour stands

To court me from above,
And looks and spreads his wounded hands,

And shows the prints of love.
But I, a stupid fool,

How long have I withstood
The blessings purchas'd with his soul,

And paid for all in blood !
The heavenly Dove came down

And tender'd me bis wings,
To mount me xpward to a crown,

And bright immortal things.
Lord, I'm asham'd to say

That I refus'd thy Dove,
And sent thy Spirit griev'd away

To his cwn realıns of love.
Not all thine heavenly charms,

Nor terrours of thy hand,
Could force me to lay down my arms,

And bow to thy command.
Lord, 'tis against thy face

My sins like arrows rise,
And yet, and yet (O inatchless grace!)

Thy thunder silent lies.


Some seraph, lend your heavenly tongue,

Or barp of golden string,
That I may raise a lofty song

To our Eternal King.
Thy names, how infinite they be!

Great Everlasting One!
Boundless thy might and majes y,

And unconfin'd thy throne.
Thy glories shine of wondrous size,

And wondrous large thy grace;
Immortal day breaks from thine eyes,

And Gabriel veils his face, Thine essence is a vast abyss,

Which angels cannot sound, An ocean of infinities,

Where all our thoughts are drown'd.

O shall I never feel

Adore the hand that led your way The meltings of thy love?

Through flowery fields a fair long summer's day; Am I such hell-harden'd steel

Gasp out your soul in praises to the sovereign power That mercy cannot move?

That set your west so distant from your dawning

hour. Now for one powerful glance,

Dear Saviour, from thy face;
This rebel heart no more withstands,

But sinks beneath thy grace.
O’ercome by dying love I fall,

FLYING FOWL, AND CREEPING THINGS, Here at thy cross I lie;

And throw my flesh, my soul, my all,

And weep, and love, and die.
“Rise,” says the Prince of Mercy,“ rise, Sweet flocks, whose soft enamelld wing
With joy and pity in his eyes :

Swift and gently cleaves the sky; " Rise, and bebold my wounded veins,

Whose charming notes address the Spring Here flows the blood to wash thy stains.

With an artless harmony: “ See my Great Father reconcild:”

Lovely minstrels of the field, He said. And lo, the Father smild:

Who in leafy shadows sit, The joyful cherubs clapp'd their wings,

And your wondrous structures build,
And sounded grace on all their strings.

Awake your tuneful voices with the dawning light:
To Nature's God your first devotions pay,

Ere you salute the rising day;

'Tis he calls up the Sun, and gives him every ray. YOUNG MEN AND MAIDENS, OLD MEN Serpents, who o'er the meadows slide, AND BABES, PRAISE YE THE LORD. And wear upon your shining back

Numerous ranks of gaudy pride,

Which thousand mingling colours make;
Sons of Adam, bold and young,

Let the fierce glances of your eyes In the wild mazes of whose veins.

Rebate their baleful fire: A food of fiery vigour reigns,

In harmless play twist and unfold And wields your active limbs, with hardy sinews The volumes of your scaly gold: strung;

That rich embroidery of your gay attire, Fall prostrate at th' eternal throne

Proclaims your Maker kind and wise. Whence your precarious powers depend;

Insects and mites, of mean degree, Nor swell as if your lives were all your own,

That swarm in myriads o'er the land,
But choose your Maker for your friend;

Moulded by. Wisdom's artful hand,
His favour is your life, his arm is your support, And curl'd and painted with a various dye;
His hand can stretch your days, or cut your minutes

In your innumerable forms

Praise him that wears th' ethereal crown, Virgins, who roll your artful eyes,

And bends his lofty counsels down
And shoot delicious danger thence;

To despicable worms.
Swift the lovely lightning flies,
And melts our reason down to sense;

Boast not of those withering charms,

That must yield their youthful grace To age and wrinkles, earth and worms;

THE COMPARISON AND COMPLAINT. But love the Author of your smiling face; That heavenly bridegroom claims your blooming

INFINITE Power, Eternal Lord, hours:

How sovereign is thy hand ! O make it your perpetual care

All Nature rose t’ obey thy word,
To please that Everlasting Fair;

And moves at thy command.
His beauties are the sun, and but the shade is yours. With steady course thy shining Sun
Infants, whose different destinies

Keeps his appointed way;
Are wove with threads of different size,

And all the hours obedient run But from the same spring-tide of tears

The circle of the day. Commence your hopes, and joys, and fears, But ah! how wide my spirit flies, (A tedious train !) and date your following years:

And wanders from her God ! Break your first silence in his praise

My soul forgets the heavenly prize, Who wrought your wondrous frame:

And treads the downward road. With sounds of tenderest accent raise

The raging fire, and stormy sea, Young honours to his name;

Perform thine awful will, And consecrate your early days

And every beast and every tree To know the Power supreme.

Thy great designs fulfil: Ye heads of venerable age,

While my wild passions rage within, Just marching off the mortal stage,

Nor thy commands obey; Fathers, whose vital threads are spun

And flesh and sense, enslav'd to sin, As long as e'er the glass of life would run,

Draw my best thoughts away. VOL XIIL

« 前へ次へ »