His power in nature's ample book we find,
But the less volume doth express his mind.
This light unknown, bold Epicurus taught
That his blest gods vouchsafe us not a thought,
But, unconcerned, let all below them slide,
As fortune does, or human wisdom guide.
Religion thus removed, the sacred yoke
And bond of all society is broke:
What use of oaths, of promise, or of test,
Where men regard no god but interest?
What endless war would jealous nations bear,
If none above did witness what they swear?
Sad fate of unbelievers, and yet just,
Among themselves to find so little trust!
Were Scripture silent, Nature would proclaim,
Without a God, our falsehood and our shame.
To know our thoughts, the object of his eyes,
Is the first step towards being good or wise;
For though with judgment we on things reflect,
Our will determines, not our intellect:
Slaves to their passion, reason men employ
Only to compass what they would enjoy ;
His fear to guard us from ourselves we need,
And Sacred Writ our reason doth exceed;
For though heaven shows the glory of the Lord,
Yet something shines more glorious in his word;
His mercy this (which all his works excels,)
His tender kindness and compassion tells:
While we, informed by that celestial Book,
Into the councils of our Maker look.
But now they desire a better country, that is, an heavenly.-HEBREWS xi. 16.
I HEAR thee speak of the better land,
Thou call'st its children a happy band;
Mother! Oh where is that radiant shore,-
Shall we not seek it and weep no more?
Is it where the flower of the orange blows,
And the fire-flies dance through the myrtle boughs?
"Not there, not there, my child."
Is it where the feathery palm trees rise,
And the date grows ripe under sunny skies,
Or midst the green islands of glittering seas,
Where fragrant forests perfume the breeze,
And strange bright birds, on their starry wings,
Bear the rich hues of all glorious things?
"Not there, not there, my child."
Is it far away, in some region old,
Where the rivers wander o'er sands of gold—
Where the burning rays of the ruby shine,
And the diamond lights up the secret mine,
And the pearl gleams forth from the coral strand—
Is it there, sweet mother, that better land?
"Not there, not there, my child.
"Eye hath not seen it, my gentle boy!
Ear hath not heard its deep songs of joy,
Dreams cannot picture a world so fair,
Sorrow and death may not enter there;
Time doth not breathe on its fadeless bloom,
For beyond the clouds, and beyond the tomb,
It is there, it is there, my child!"
The land shall be utterly emptied and utterly spoiled.-ISAIAH xxiv. 3.
WHERE fell the palm-trees' clustering shade,
The aged and weary prophet lay,
And o'er his fevered temples played
The freshness of the primal day.
He slept-and on his spirit fell
A vision of the flight of time
He saw upon the future dwell,
A dark'ning cloud of sin and crime.
Gone were the spirits that lingered near
The world in its early bloom,
And Hope's pure light, that was wont to cheer, Grew dim in the gathering gloom;
And Love from Earth was hurl'd
And a mandate came,
In a breath of flame,
To scourge a sinful world.
"LET THE SWORD GO FORTH!"—And forth it went, And gleamed o'er tower and battlement,
And glanced in the tented field;
And helms were cleft, and shields were broke,
And hearts were bared to the battle stroke,
Only in death to yield:
The warriors met-but not to part
And the sun glared redly on the scene;
And the broken sword, and the trampled heart,
Might tell where the battle steed had been ;
Dark and still, by the moon's pale beam,
Lay mouldering heaps of slaughtered men—
The fountain of a sanguine stream—
Earth drank the blood of her offspring then.
"GO FORTH, DISEASE !"-And at the word,
The groans of a stricken world were heard,
And the voice of wo rose high-
And myriads yielded up their breath,
As the haggard form of the tyrant Death,
On the rotten breeze swept by,
And the lovely green that overspread
The world in its guileless day,
Grew as deeply dark, and sear'd, and dead,
As the parched earth where it lay.
With lifeless limbs, the livid trees
Stood locked in the arms of Death,
Save one, that still to the withering breeze
Could lend its poisonous breath.
Deeply the world, in that drear time,
Felt the deadly curse of sin and crime.
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