See nature hastes her earliest wreaths to bring,
With all the incense of the breathing spring;
See lofty Lebanon his head advance,

See nodding forests on the mountains dance;
See spicy clouds from lowly Saron rise,
And Carmel's flow'ry top perfumes the skies!
Hark! a glad voice the lonely desert chears!
Prepare the way! a God, a God appears!
A God! a God! the vocal hills reply,
The rocks proclaim th' approaching deity.
Lo, earth receives him from the bending skies!
Sink down, ye mountains, and ye vallies, rise;
With heads declin'd, ye cedars, homiage 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!
lie from thick films shall purge the visual ray,
And on the sightless eye-ball pour the day;
'Tis he th' obstructed paths of sound shall clear,
And bid new music charm th' 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 ev'ry face he wipes off ev'ry tear.
In adamantine chains shall death be bound,
And hell's grim tyrant feel th' eternal wound.
As the good shepherd tends his fleecy care,
Seeks freshest pasture, and the purest air,
Explores the lost, the wand'ring 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 boson warms;
Thus shall mankind his guardian care engage,
The promis'd father of a future age.

No more shall nation against nation rise,
Nor ardent warriors meet with hateful eyes,
Nor fields with gleaming steel be cover'd o'er,
The brazen trumpets kindle rage no more ;
But useless lances into scythes shall bend,
And the broad faulchion in a plough-share end.
Then palaces shall rise; the joyful son
Shall finish what his short-liv'd 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 surprize
Sees lillies spring, and sudden verdure rise;
And starts, amidst the thirsty wilds to hear
New falls of water murm'ring in his ear.
On rifted rocks, the dragon's late abodes,
The green reed trembles, and the bulrush nods.
Waste sandy vailies, once perplex'd with thorn,
The spiry fir and shapely box adorn :

To leafless shrubs the flow'ring palms succeed,
And od❜rous myrtle to the noisome weed.
The lambs with wolves shall graze the verdant
mead,

And boys in flow'ry bands the tiger lead;
The steer and lion at one crib shall meet,

And harmless serpents lick the pilgrim's feet.

The smiling infant in his hand shall take
The crested basilisk and the speckled snake;
Pleas'd the green lustre of their scales survey,
And with their forky tongue shall innocently play.
Rise, crown'd with light, imperial Salem, rise!
Exalt thy tow'ry head, and lift thine eyes!
See, a long race thy spacious courts adorn:
See future sons and daughters, yet unborn,
In crouding ranks on ev'ry side arise,
Demanding life, impatient for the skies!
See barb'rous nations at thy gates attend,
Walk in thy light, and in thy temples bend;
See thy bright altars throng'd with prostrate kings,
And heap'd with products of Sabæan springs!
For thee Idume's spicy forests blow,
And seeds of gold in Ophirs' mountains glow.
See heav'n its sparkling portals wide display,
And break upon thee in a flood of day.
No more the rising sun shall gild the morn,
Nor ev'ning Cynthia fill her silver horn;
But lost, dissolv'd in thy superior rays,
One tide of glory, one unclouded blaze
O'erflow thy courts: the Light himself shall shine
Reveal'd, 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!

Lying at a Reverend Friend's house one night, the author left

THE FOLLOWING VERSES

In the room where he slept.

O thou dread Power, who reign'st above!
I know thou wilt me hear :
When for this scene of peace and love
I make my prayer sincere.

The hoary sire-the mortal stroke,
Long, long, be pleas'd to spare;

To bless his little filial flock,

And show what good men are.

She, who her lovely offspring eyes
With tender hopes and fears,
O, bless her with a mother's joys,
spare a mother's tears!

But

Their hope, their stay, their darling youth,
In manhood's dawning blush;

Bless him, thou God of love and truth,
Up to a parent's wish.

The beauteous, seraph, sister-band,
With earnest tears I pray,

Thou know'st the snares on every hand,
Guide thou their steps alway.

When soon or late they reach that coast,
O'er life's rough ocean driv❜n,
May they rejoice, no wanderer lost,
A family in Heav'n!

THE DYING CHRISTIAN TO HIS SOUL.

Vital spark of heav'nly flame!
Quit, oh quit this mortal frame :
Trembling, hoping, ling'ring, flying;
Oh the pain, the bliss of dying!
Cease, fond nature, cease thy strife,
And let me languish into life.

Hark! they whisper; angels say,
Sister spirit, come away.
What is this absorbs me quite !
Steals my senses, shuts my sight,
Drowns my spirits, draws my breath?
Tell me, my soul can this be death?