Oh! who shall then survive?

Oh! who shall stand and live?

When all that hath been is no more:
When for the round earth hung in air,
With all its constellations fair

In the sky's azure canopy;

When for the breathing Earth, and sparkling Sea,
Is but a fiery deluge without shore,
Heaving along the abyss profound and dark,
A fiery deluge, and without an Ark.

Lord of all power, when thou art there alone
On thy eternal fiery-wheeled throne,
That in its high meridian noon

Needs not the perish'd sun nor moon:

When thou art there in thy presiding state,
Wide-sceptred Monarch o'er the realm of doom :
When from the sea-depths, from earth's darkest
womb,

The dead of all the ages round thee wait:
And when the tribes of wickedness are strewn
Like forest-leaves in the autumn of thine ire:
Faithful and True! thou still wilt save thine own!
The Saints shall dwell within th' unharming fire,
Each white robe spotless, blooming every palm.
Even safe as we, by this still fountain's side,
So shall the Church, thy bright and mystic Bride,
Sit on the stormy gulf a halcyon bird of calm.
Yes, 'mid yon angry and destroying signs,
O'er us the rainbow of thy mercy shines,
We hail, we bless the covenant of its beam,
Almighty to avenge, Almightiest to redeem !

REV. GEORGE CRABBE.

REAL MOURNERS.

YES! there are real Mourners-I have seen A fair sad Girl, mild, suffering, and serene; Attention (through the day) her duties claim'd, And to be useful as resign'd she aim'd; Neatly she drest, nor vainly seem'd t' expect Pity for grief, or pardon for neglect; But when her wearied Parents sunk to sleep, She sought her place to meditate and weep; Then to her mind was all the past display'd, That faithful Memory brings to Sorrow's aid: For then she thought on one regretted Youth, Her tender trust, and his unquestion'd truth; In ev'ry place she wander'd, where they'd been, And sadly-sacred held the parting-scene Where last for sea he took his leave;-that place With double interest would she nightly trace.'

Happy he sail'd, and great the care she took, That he should softly sleep and smartly look; White was his better linen, and his check Was made more trim than any on the deck; And every comfort Men at Sea can know, Was her's to buy, to make, and to bestow : For he to Greenland sail'd, and much she told, How he should guard against the climate's cold; Yet saw not danger; dangers he'd withstood, Nor could she trace the Fever in his blood: His messmates smiled at flushings in his cheek, And he too smiled, but seldom would he speak ; For now he found the danger, felt the pain, With grievous symptoms he could not explain.

He call'd his friend, and prefaced with a sigh A Lover's message-" Thomas, I must die: "Would I could see my Sally, and could rest "My throbbing temples on her faithful breast, "And gazing go!-if not, this trifle take, "And say, till death I wore it for her sake: "Yes! I must die-blow on, sweet breeze, blow on !

"Give me one look before my life be gone, “Oh! give me that! and let me not despair,"One last fond look!—and now repeat the prayer.” He had his wish, had more; I will not paint The Lovers' meeting: she beheld him faintWith tender fears, she took a nearer view, Her terrors doubling as her hopes withdrew; He tried to smile; and, half succeeding, said, "Yes! I must die"-and hope for ever fled. Still long she nursed him; tender thoughts mean time

Were interchanged, and hopes and views sublime. To her he came to die, and every day

She took some portion of the dread away;

With him she pray'd, to him his Bible read,
Sooth'd the faint heart, and held the aching head:
She came with smiles the hour of pain to cheer;
Apart she sigh'd; alone, she shed the tear;
Then, as if breaking from a cloud, she gave
Fresh light, and gilt the prospect of the grave.
One day he lighter seem'd, and they forgot
The care, the dread, the anguish of their lot;
They spoke with cheerfulness, and seem'd to think,
Yet said not so-" Perhaps he will not sink.”
A sudden brightness in his look appear'd,
A sudden vigour in his voice was heard ;-

She had been reading in the Book of Prayer,
And led him forth, and placed him in his chair;
Lively he seem'd, and spoke of all he knew,
The friendly many, and the favourite few ;
Nor one that day did he to mind recall,
But she has treasured, and she loves them all;
When in her way she meets them, they appear
Peculiar people-death has made them dear.
He named his friend, but then his hand she prest,
And fondly whisper'd, "Thou must go to rest."
"I go," he said; but, as he spoke, she found
His hand more cold, and fluttering was the sound;
Then gazed affrighten'd; but she caught a last,
A dying look of love, and all was past!-

She placed a decent stone his grave above,
Neatly engraved-an offering of her Love;
For that she wrought, for that forsook her bed,
Awake alike to duty and the dead;

She would have grieved, had friends presumed to

spare

The least assistance-'twas her proper care.

Here will she come, and on the grave will sit, Folding her arms, in long abstracted fit; But if observer pass, will take her round, And careless seem, for she would not be found; Then go again, and thus her hour employ, While visions please her, and while woes destroy.

THE FEMALE SUICIDE.

SHE left her infant on the Sunday morn,
A creature doom'd to shame! in sorrow born;

A thing that languish'd, nor arrived at age
When the man's thoughts with sin and pain en-

gage

She came not home to share our humble meal,
Her father thinking what his child would feel
From his hard sentence-still she came not home.
The night grew dark, and yet she was not come;
The east wind roar'd, the sea return'd the sound,
And the rain fell as if the world were drown'd:
There were no lights without, and my goodman,
To kindness frighten'd, with a groan began
To talk of Ruth, and pray; and then he took
The Bible down, and read the holy book;
For he had learning: and when that was done
We sat in silence-whither could we run?
We said, and then rush'd frighten'd from the door,
For we could bear our own conceit no more:
We call'd on neighbours-there she had not been;
We met some wanderers-ours they had not seen :
We hurried o'er the beach, both north and south,
Then join'd, and wander'd to our haven's mouth :
Where rush'd the falling waters wildly out,
I scarcely heard the goodman's fearful shout,
Who saw a something on the billow ride,
And-Heaven have mercy on our sins! he cried,
It is my child!—and to the present hour
So he believes-and spirits have the power.

And she was gone! the waters wide and deep
Roll'd o'er her body as she lay asleep.
She heard no more the angry waves and wind,
She heard no more the threat'ning of mankind;
Wrapt in dark weeds, the refuse of the storm,
To the hard rock was borne her comely form!