Go you that rest upon the law, And toil, and seek salvation there; But I'll retire beneath the cross, And the keen sword that justice draws, SEEKING A DIVINE CALM IN A RESTLESS WORLD. O Mens, quæ stabili fata Regis vice, &c. ETERNAL Mind, who rul'st the fates Thou scatterest honours, crowns, and gold; The bubbles and the ore: Here a vain man his sceptre breaks, Earth's but an atom: greedy swords Let greedy swords still fight and slay, HAPPY FRAILTY. How meanly dwells the' immortal mind! How vile these bodies are! Why was a clod of earth design'd To' inclose a heavenly star? "Weak cottage where our souls reside! This flesh a tottering wall; With frightful breaches gaping wide All round it storms of trouble blow, Cold waves and winter storms beat through, Alas! how frail our state!' said I, My soul felt all the glory come, And breath'd her native air; Then she remember'd Heaven her home, And she a prisoner here. Straight she began to change her key, And joyful in her pains, She sung the frailty of her clay In pleasurable strains.— 'How weak the prison where I dwell! The breaches certainly foretel 'No more, my friends, shall I complain, Though all my heart-strings ache; Welcome disease, and every pain, That makes the cottage shake. 'Now let the tempest blow all round, And beat this house of bondage down, "I have a mansion built above By the Eternal hand; And should the earth's old basis move, My heavenly house must stand. 'Yes, for 'tis there my Saviour reigns, (I long to see the God) And his immortal strength sustains Hark! from on high my Saviour calls: LAUNCHING INTO ETERNITY. Ir was a brave attempt! adventrous he, I see the surging brine; the tempest raves: Such is the soul that leaves this mortal land, As the shores lessen, so her joys arise, She floats on the broad deep with infinite delight, A PROSPECT OF THE RESURRECTION. How long shall Death the tyrant reign, And triumph o'er the just? While the rich blood of martyrs slain When shall the tedious night be gone? Let faith arise and climb the hills, How distant are his chariot wheels, Lo, I behold the scattering shades, I see the Lord of glory come, The trumpet shakes the ground. |