H DCKIVCLCT LIBRARY UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA ' Ck*C*t>~4U> /f*f* HYMNS AND POEMS. BY EEV. JOHN C. FAIRBAIRN, ALLANTON, AUTHOB OP " -SABBATH SCENES AND MEDITATIONS," AC. EDINBURGH: ANDREW ELLIOT, 15 PRINCES STREET. LONDON : HAMILTON, ADAMS, & CO. 1859. LOAN STACK C. Gibson, Printer, 18 Thistle Street, Edinburgh. CONTENTS. fi\ iv II Fit! m PAGE HYMN, ' - 5 HYMN, 7 HYMN, 9 HYMN, 11 HYMN, 13 HYMN, 15 HYMN, 17 HYMN, 19 HYMN, 22 SCRIPTURE LESSONS, 24 PRAYER, - 26 MISERY REFUSING HELP, - - - - - - 29 THE DEAD TREE, 30 THE DEW-DROP, - 32 THE BEE AND THE FLOWER, 33 EARLY BLOSSOMS, 34 PRAISE OF GOD IN NATURE AND IN GRACE, 36 MORNING, 38 FAITH, HOPE, AND LOVE, 41 THE BLACKBIRD'S SONG, ------ 43 REMONSTRANCE, 44 LOVE, 48 fleeting joys, 50 the thunder cloud, the rainbow, and the lark, - 52 the rainbow, - 53 faith's chamber, 55 A COLLOQUY, 57 926 IV CONTENTS. PAGE THOUGHTS BY THE SEA BEACH, 59 THE CHURCHYARD OF THE BOROUGH, 63 DEATH AS IT APPEARS TO SENSES, 66 O DEATH, WHERE IS THY STING ? 68 LINES TO J , DEPARTED, ------ 70 QUESTIONS FOR PRIDE, 71 AUTUMN, 74 PAST AND FUTURE, 76 INCONSTANCY, 77 LINES, 78 THE CATACOMBS AND THE COLOSSEUM, 79 LINES, * - - - BI THE BIBLE, 83 THE SOUL'S RELEASE, 85 SONNETS — ON A PAINTING, 88 EVENING, 89 the brook, 90 happy old man ! ------ 91 the nem^an lion, 92 summer clouds, 93 Rutherford's letters, 94 to welsh, in blackness castle, 95 dr john owen, 96 lines on a burial ground in a wood, 97 to the memory of a friend, ----- 103 the two portraits, 107 HOLIDAY EXCURSION, Ill SATURDAY NIGHT, 119 THE TEMPTATION IN THE WILDERNESS, - - - 127 THE BEATITUDES, 142 THE RAISING FROM THE DEAD OF THE WIDOW OF NAIN'S SON, 154 HYMNS AND POEMS. HYMN. Soar all sublunar themes above, Let heaven be shrined in every thought, No songs be thine but songs of love To Him who thy redemption wrought, Endured the ignominious tree, Was crucified, is risen for thee. Jesus, thy love we ne'er aright Can sing; no thought its depth can sound. Lord, the splendours of Thy might, Where'er we turn, our paths surround. Heaven, earth, and all Thy works proclaim Thy wonders, Lord, thy glorious name. HYMN. The mystery of Thy love defies, Confounds poor Eeason's bounded span. Lord, thou didst rear the earth and skies, Lord, thou didst die for guilty man. The Maker, for the creature's gain, Assumed our nature, suffered pain. love, transcending every height, Deeper than the unfathom'd sea, Thou wast before created light, Thou art unto eternity. Love, in thy perfect fulness known, To Him whose love thou art alone! Lord, when Thy love's amazing plan Thou shew'dst unto Thy heavenly host, How did they burn its depths to scan, In holy admiration lost ! Unfathom'd still, what can they more Than wonder, worship, and adore? "Welcome divine, stupendous thought, Thou canst our heart to rapture raise, For us the marv'llous scheme was wrought ! The blessing ours, Lord, thine the praise. may Thy praise with heart and tongue, And burning zeal, be ever sung! HYMN. HYMN. Dear Lord, unto thy mercy-seat With rev'rence I draw near, In all my guilt, in all my woe, I in Thy sight appear. Helpless I am, but Thou canst help, I cast my cares on Thee. For refuge from deserved wrath, To Thy defence I flee. Cleanse me from my polluted stains, And kindle pure desire, And with love's holy flame within, Set all my soul on fire. My soul is impotent, Lord, My helper, then, be Thou : Behold the angel has come down, The waters tremble now. HYMN. Come, Lord, in this propitious hour, Lord, no tarrying make, Speak now, and heal my guilty soul, For thy dear Jesus' sake. HYMN. HYMN. Ah ! that the humblest of the saints Should cherish one desponding thought, As if their Father's word could fail, His promise be forgot. No adverse power can work you harm, Though all against you were oombin'd, Ye are invulnerable, save To your own doubting mind. Ye are your own most deadly foes, Yourselves, distrustful ones, alone ; Arise, and in your Father's name Bid each false thought be gone. Ye look unto the shining hosts, Your Father's word controls them all ; He paints the lilies of the field, He knows the sparrow's fall. 10 HYMN. If His spontaneous bounty feeds The birds that neither reap nor sow, On you, to whom His truth is sworn, Will He not good bestow ? Be of good cheer, arise, and sing, Spend in despondency no hour, In each perplexity behold And trust your Father's power. The knowledge of His power may well You against every fear provide ; With holy rapture then behold Power to the Promise tied. HYMN. 11 HYMN. Wouldst thou behold thy sins avenged, Yet shun the awful stroke ? Haste to the mount where on the Lamb, G-od's bleeding Lamb, it broke. Behold His agonized brow, His agonizing breath, And wilt thou not confess His love Is stronger far than death ? His sacred body when thou see'st Laid helpless in the tomb, Invading doubts distract thy soul, Perplexing fears consume : But mark Him burst the gates of death, In triumph bright arrayed, Whilst Mercy through the world proclaims The ransom fully paid. 12 HYMN. Let all presumptuous doubts and fears With Night's dark terrors fly : Look up, and with a transport see Morn kindle through the sky. HYMN. 13 HYMN. When the dread peal of final doom Is thundered through the skies, fiends the foundations of the tomb, And bids the dead arise : When all the sins I e'er have done Loud from Thy book are read, How shall I then, most holy God, Before Thee lift my head ? When heaven's quench'd orbs pass swift away, When nature's frame expires, When earthquakes cleave their shiv'ring way Through mountains wrapt in fires, When I on all the works of sin Shall see Thy vengeance pour'd, Ah, with what words shall I begin To plead exemption, Lord ? 14 HYMN. When into dark destruction hurl'd I guilty myriads see, Myself the guiltiest in the world, Ah, what shall be my plea ? Teach now on mercy to rely, To seek the fountain pure, Which cleanses sin's most crimson dye, Which makes our pardon sure : G-ive faith to see my guilty load On holy Jesus laid : In Thy own righteousness, my G-od, My ransom'd soul array'd : And, blessed Comforter, draw near, Thy sacred power impart, Erect Thy throne in love and fear, And reign within my heart. HYMN, 15 HYMN. When freed from earth's dissolving bands In glowing ecstasies sublime, The ransom'd spirit soars away For ever from the shores of Time. Angelic pinions round her glance, To them the radiant path is known, They herald her with holy strains Through their uplifted trumpets blown. The warders on the golden towers In joyful haste unlock the bars, Wide open rush the pearly gates Emblazon'd with ten thousand stars. " Come in " — a thousand ardent tongues With welcome make the porches ring — " Enter, thou bless'd, the holy courts, The temple of the Lord, the King." 16 HYMN. But the ravishment divine That through her raptur'd being glows, When palm, and harp, and golden crown, The Lord, the King himself, bestows. Her in their glory beaming ranks The myriads of the sky infold, And sounds are heard, and sights are seen, Which Paul himself has left untold. HYMN. 1 7 HYMN. Why should we ever cease to raise In holy songs our Saviour's praise ? With glowing heart and burning tongue For ever be His praises sung! Come, raise the song to rapture's height, Come, raise it with the soul's whole might. Shall themes that profit not inspire The heart, and thrill the kindling lyre, Till all the throbbing pulses strain And languish in delicious pain ? Seize, then, this holier theme, and beat The strings with a diviner heat ! Satan against us raged with spite, 'Gainst us arrayed his utmost might, 'Gainst us obstructed every path, Pursued our souls with floods of wrath. In hurricanes his arrows shot, And thick as hail they sorely smote. 18 HYMN. Dear Lord ! what deeds by Thee were done ! How hasten'd Death Thy glance to shun ! Hell grudged to yield her conquest dear, More to confront Thy fatal spear. Nor Satan could find heart to stand Against Thy lightning's with 'ring brand. ever, ever, be adored, Jesus our hope, our life, our Lord. He the dread stroke for us endured By Justice aimed, and peace secured ; Whilst Heaven, astonished, bent its eyes On the amazing sacrifice. Lord, till Thou call'st our souls above, We walk in sunshine of Thy love, Thy love which in our mortal state Doth almost heaven itself create. Surely Thy praises should be sung With glowing heart and burning tongue ! HYMN. 19 HYMN. Devouring Grave ! Exactor cruel, who thy demands must have ! Since that ill-omened day When, yielding to the Tempter's voice, Our Mother made her fatal choice, All have become thy prey. Ah pitiless Abhorred thing ! in thy obscure abyss We lose each cherished friend. And whilst our woes we sadly tell, The iron throated sullen bell Warns us we soon descend. Alas ! we see Our bodies to thy dread necessity Must yield ! Here but begin Our miseries : Hell's dismal gloom Longs for the soul — a living tomb — Dread, just, reward of sin ! 20 HYMN. The world had gone Swift, utterly to wild destruction : Euin triumphant rode, O'er the whole race at first renown 'd For loftiest gifts, ennobled, crowned With the image of their God ; Had not our Lord, Most merciful, girt on His righteous sword, And stood in our defence. He heaped His blows with scathing flame On that proud head that wrought our shame, And marr'd our innocence. The hell-born rout That compass'd us with their cruel bands about. Our Champion foiled them all ; Unchained before their furious eyes Our captive souls, and bore the prize To His high capital. " Thou G-rave, beware" — He said — " how thou thy ward perform'st — Have care Of them given to thy trust : 21 See to their spirits thou throw 'st wide Heaven's portals ; let not ill betide, Till doom, their sleeping dust." — We glorify Our Lord, and ever will, with praises high, Our Lord, who rose and smote The foes that gall'd us with their strife, And o'er Death's porch — " the path of Life" — With Victory's pinion wrote ! 22 HYMN. HYMN. bleeding, suffering, Lamb of God ! To Thee I look, to Thee I pray. Thou art my comfort, Thou my hope, Except in Thee I have no stay. Despair me seized and wildly toss'd Amidst the dark tempestuous sea, My hope was gone, my soul was lost, When, Lamb of God, I looked to Thee. 1 looked to Thee, and then I felt How winds and waves obey Thy will, How as of old on Galilee Thou speak'st with power and all is still. Thou heal'dst my bruises, sooth'dst my pains, Thou saidst unto my trembling heart — " Fear not ;" and what peace flowed in ! The good Samaritan thou art. 23 The good Samaritan ! ah more, The patient suffering man of woe^. Compassion burning in thy heart With blessing to thy vilest foes. The Man of Sorrows ! yea, the Lord Omnipotent, all things above : My soul would tremble at Thy power, But she remembers straight Thy love. Love ! that for me, a guilty worm, A wretched atom, that defied Thy Majesty, from heaven came down, And for me bled, and for me died. The path ordained by Thee the orbs Of heaven unerringly pursue, And all the creatures of Thy hand. Save my false heart, to Thee are true. False heart ! and wilt thou never cease To vex Him with Chy treach'rous ways ? Be it thy joy, as 'tis thy peace, To look to Him, absorpt in praise. 24 SCRIPTURE LESSONS. SCEIPTUEE LESSONS. The soul to Glod to elevate, — Behold the mighty plan ! — A noble spirit to create, To make a man of man : To teach the height from which we fell, The depth in which we lie ; How to escape the woes of hell, How to ascend the sky : Earth's vanities aside to thrust, To choose the future good ; In God to place a cheerful trust, As an immortal should ; By sacred discipline to walk, Of an unerring rule, Unheard of in the learned talk Of Greece's sagest school : SCRIPTURE LESSONS. 25 From guilt to keep the conscience clear, To break Sin's iron bond ; To have the Lord, in love and fear, Within the heart enthron'd : Our neighbour as ourselves to love ; Sublimer yet to rise — Sure proof of teaching from above — To love our enemies : To silence Pride's presumptuous boast, The humble disenthrall ; To teach all mankind they are lost, To publish peace to all. — Man looks upon the perfect sum Of what his God requires ; Avenging conscience strikes him dumb, Hope in his breast expires. — With sound of trumpet let it be Pealed through the world abroad. To all salvation is made free — It is the gift of God ! •26 PEAYEE, Bless'd Minister ! assign'd to man, In Heaven's paternal care, The longings of the weary heart Prompt to the skies to bear. God gave thee a persuasive tongue, With pinions to outrun The swiftest beams that cheer the world Bright darted from the sun. Thou still art ready every hour, Prepared in every place, Our every want and woe to bring Before Jehovah's face. The Seraphim in heaven well pleased Behold thy upward flight, And, through their ranks, to clear thy path, Divide from left to right : PRAYER. 27 Pause in their holy ministries, Their holy songs suspend, To see thee, breathing our behests, Before their Father bend. By whom despatched ? with what behest The skies ascending now ? — Alas ! you pilgrim whom the blasts Of dark temptation bow. I saw the light forsake his eye, His struggling spirit fail, As Satan, striding 'thwart his path, Hurl'd fierce his fiery hail. Bless'd Messenger ! despatched, returned, Ere one can draw a breath, With sov'reign essences, of power To staunch the wounds of Death. Enraged, the fiend with hideous shriek Flees from the upper day ; With grateful heart and cheerful song The saint pursues his way. 28 PRAYER. Soon hopes he that dark flood to cross, To hail that citadel, Where faith, transform'd to clearest sight, Can say to prayer — Farewell. MISERY REFUSING HELP. 29 MISEKY KEFUSING HELP. God bids the perishing receive Salvation full and free ; Pride, ruffling up, will not believe That thus the case can be. The wretch who o'er the vessel's side Falls headlong in the main, Contends with Death in the wild tide The drifting plank to gain. But plunged in ruin's shoreless sea, To sink and perish soon, Because deliverance is free, Man spurns the precious boon. 30 THE DEAD TREE. THE DEAD TEEE. Old, ghastly thing! in cerements dress : d. What bird upon thy naked breast Shall ever choose to build her nest ? Beneath, no roots of thine partake Earth's vital impulses that make At shout of Spring the woods awake. Dead trunk ! with a dead branch or two, A few dry twigs, to which the dew Can ne'er impart a vernal hue, Time was when thou didst lift a screen As blossom -fraught, as gaily green, As any in the sylvan scene. Then, in thy bowers consorting, gay Birds warbled the long summer day. And gnats danced in the evening ray. THE DEAD TREE, 31 Then, not in vain for thee the stream Murmured, nor shot the morning beam Into thy breast his rosy gleam. But all is past. Time blasted tree ! Thou a sad monitor shalt be To teach us our mortality. 32 THE DEW-DROP. THE DEW-DROP. This little, trembling globe of dew Upon the lily flower, Is but a tear-drop of the night, The plaything of an hour. And yet yon lightning- winged orb, Afar through space that gleams, In it delights to paint his form, And shake his fiery beams. Do the sweet glances of the stars On these dark drops alight, Till like a nether galaxy They sparkle through the night ? — Let us with admiration view, With rev 'rent wonder scan, The grace that God's own likeness drawt Upon the soul of man. THE BEE AND THE FLOWER. 33 THE BEE AND THE FLOWEK, The fair Campanula was folded up, An early bee around her play'd, And often and in vain essay'd To reach her nectar 'd cup. Up rose the sun, to his enchanting shine The flower her tent wide open cast, The bee had then a rich repast, He sipped the honey wine. — Thus on the volume of the Word I pore, 'Tis a lock'd chamber to my mind, No key to ope have I, I find No chink in all the door. But when the Spirit's quick'ning grace is given On these dread oracles to shine, I enter straight the courts divine, And look right into heaven. 34 EARLY BLOSSOMS. EAELY BLOSSOMS. Early blossoms, pearl'd with dew, Flushed with every orient hue — Youth, for beauty, is like you. Children of the blue-eyed May ! Why haste ye so to pass away ? So the charms of youth decay. Weep not o'er the vanished throng Of beauties that to earth belong. Let us sing a cheerful song! Cease 'mongst shadows dim to grope, Seize reality, life, hope, Let desire have ample scope ! Happy land beyond Death's river, In thee youth is youth for ever, Sin and sadness enter never. EARLY BLOSSOMS. 35 At the gate, as each appears, A mighty angel dries their tears, Calling thus unto his peers — " Fetch the amaranthine crown, Put the robes of glory on, Carry him before the throne." 3fi PRATRE OP GOD IN NATURE AND IN GRACE. PEAISE OF GOD IN NATUEE AND IN GBACE. A thousand voices, my God, Thy majesty and power, Throughout Thy mighty universe Proclaim each passing hour. Sweet voices fill the sky, they rise Through earth's remotest bounds, And from the ocean's hoary wastes Come up the solemn sounds. From mountain tops they come, from depths Of vales, in storm, in calm, Pealing unceasing melodies Of an eternal psalm. And, my God, there is no spot In being's endless bound, But, lo ! the wonders of Thy power Surprise us round and round. PRAISE OF GOD IN NATURE AND IN GRACE. 37 When the minutest of Thy works My mind with care surveys, It catches straight celestial fire, And kindles into praise. And when through ether's shining realms I cast my glance afar, I hear in mighty peals Thy praise Thundered from star to star. Thy praise is hymned by every thing To which Thou breath hast given, The insect atoms of the air, The sanctities of heaven. But, dearest Lord, for sinful man, What didst Thou not provide, When his redemption was decreed, When for him Jesus died ! And surely, Lord, of all Thy works That utter praise to Thee, Man's grateful soul should take the lead, His voice the loudest be. 38 MORNING. MOBNING-. Hail lovely new-born light ! Swift through the routed Night Thy radiant arrows smite. Her squadrons disappear, Pale, swift of foot through fear, Anywhere from thy spear. I see thy brimming tide Swell up through ether wide. All heaven is glorified. The mountains kindle now, The forests on their brow. Ocean is all a glow. MORNING. 39 Thou sparkiest on the dew, From thee each flower its hue Brinks — crimson, golden, blue. In thy celestial springs The skylark bathes her wings, In rapture soars and sings. The waving groves no less, In ecstasy's excess, Thy joyful coming bless. Is there on earth a spot By thy sweet beams forgot ? A heart thou gladd'nest not ? O'er this terrestrial ball In thee Grod's creatures all Rejoice, both great and small. In thee, fair orient light, I hail an emblem bright Of Grace's heavenly might 40 MORNING. To dissipate our woe, G-ive peace, and make us know Joy's holy overflow. Symbol thou shalt remain Of the gladness without pain When men are born again. Whene'er thou cheer'st our eyes, Our spirit's sacrifice Of praise to God shall rise. FAITH, HOPE, AND LOVE. 41 FAITH, HOPE, AND LOVE. The heavenly Graces came From their serene abode, An heir of Adam's shame To consecrate to God. " This trusty sword receive" — Said Faith — " of temper sure, Heroic deeds achieve, Heroic woes endure." Contending with the wrath Of storms on floods afar, " Look up, direct thy course" — Said Hope — " by this bright star." Love gave a burning kiss Soon as that pledge was given ; His soul was stormed with bliss, Like one just ent'ring heaven. 42 FAITH, HOPE, AND LOVE. Faith's trusty sword through hosts Cut a triumphant way ; He steer' d for happy coasts By Hope's propitious ray. The holy fire of Love Divinely thrilled each vein, Prepared for heaven ahove, Burned out each mortal stain. THE BLACKBIRD 'a SONG. 43 THE BLACKBIRD'S SONG. The snow still lags on hill and plain. The hail showers sharply ring ; But, hark ! the blackbird's happy note Anticipates the Spring. Of rosy clouds and sunny gleams She sings, and budding flowers, The sparkle of the shining brook, The hum of forest bowers, The ploughman early in the field, The echo-wak'ning horn, The crows all busy with their nests. The springing of the corn. — Like her that in the frosty dawn Of spring and summer sings. Beguile thy hours of bitterness With hopes of better things. 44 REMONSTRANCE. KEMONSTKANCE. foolish, foolish heart ! Slow to discriminate The suitors at thy gate, Despoiled by sin of all thy art. The world, with giddy roar, Came promising great things, Wealth, pleasure, rapture wings, " Make haste," thou saidst, " throw wide the door." Fool ! not discerning then The world's a rainbow shading Gay colours bright but fading On a dark ground of bitter pain. Not reckoning at all, The world is but a few Drops of sweet honey-dew Kubbed thinly o'er a heart of gall. REMONSTRANCE. 45 That beauty brightest burning Is but a butterfly- Tossed through the sapphire sky, Worm-bred, and to a worm returning. How gaily thou didst live Awhile with treacherous lies, Big boasting vanities, That had no truth, no peace could give ! But Conscience woke ; his eye Smote stern — thy courage fell ; Through thy chink- riven cell Peered that dread one, Eternity. But see I thy Lover stands Close by — haste for relief. Alas ! He mocks thy grief, Laughs loud in scorn, and claps His hands. Forsaken of all good, Abandoned, perishing, Wretched, ill-fated thing ! Another all this while thee woo'd ! 46 REMONSTRANCE. Hadst thou to Him inclined, There never had been space To hold one half His grace Of love and bliss for thee designed. With joy from side to side Earth had o'erllowed, and Heaven Its high approval given Of thy fair choice, immortal bride ! — Stands He yet at the gate ? Ah, is it yet His song? Can patience last so long ? Has slighted love not turned to hate ? — Thou couldst not lift thine eyes, Shame burned on either cheek, And choked thee when thou'dst speak- Spoke He of past indignities Heaped on His head of old, When thou didst welcome in The rabble rout of sin, Leaving Him in the rain and cold? REMONSTRANCE. Or did He love thee less That thou didst scorn His love ? — He gifts all price above Heaped on thee with a strange excess. With admiration dumb Thou sett'st thyself to cast His mercies — saidst at last — " My sins alone can match their sum ! ; ' 48 LOVE. LOVE. Look up ! Celestial Love Is spread, a boundless sky, Up and through that resplendent sphere My soul to glory fly. In Love's etherial glow See earth and ether blend, Make haste glad spirit, and the sky By that bright stair ascend. what abyss of gloom So dark Love lightens not, Love who so sweetly shoots his beams Into the darkest spot. The borders of despair 1 paced with many a groan, From woe still on to deeper woe, A soul whose hope was gone. LOVE. 40 Love met me there, and brought To where his feast was spread, — " The clusters of the vine are ripe, Reach up, and eat," he said. In his divine discourse Celestial joys I knew, Heaven kindled in my glowing breast, Immortal air I drew. What charms of sweetest bliss Flowed from his silver tongue, And when I rose to bid farewell, This parting note he sung : — " In my bright panoply Begirt, arise and go, If need be, through the heart of Hell, Nor fear thy fiercest foe. " Bid Death, the pioneer, Open to heaven thy way, And Death, who is my servitor. The challenge must obey." 50 FLEETING JOYS. FLEETING JOYS. Fleeting joys of mortal life, Hast'ning to be gone, We have scarcely time to hail you Ere ye past are flown, Eainbow tints that sweetly braid Our hours, and like the rainbow fade. How ye vanish like a dream, Like the cloudy shadow, By the breezes of the Spring, Blown o'er hill and meadow, This moment gaily glancing, next With the Past's oblivion mix'd. Ah ye precious gifts of heaven, Friends whom we loved best, Ye fly like other earthly joys, Vanish like the rest ; Ye cannot, and ye must not stay, Hearts may break, ye must away. FLEETING JOY<. 51 But through sorrow's thickest shade Streams a holy light, And a voice of gladness rings Through the dreary night. From regions far beyond the tomb They fetch with them immortal bloom. And they guide us to the land. The serene abode Of immortals who rejoice Beneath the smile of God, Where friends whom death did separate Stand on the shore, and for us wait. 52 THE THUNDER CLOUD, THE RAINBOW, AND LARK. THE THUNDEK CLOUD, THE KAINBOW, AND THE LAEK. Like Death's black banner, overhead A thunder cloud hung lurid, red, Earth trembled, — could, for fear, have fled. Bright flashed the lightning's dazzling glare, Loud thunders shook the bellowing air, The madd'ning torrents foamed despair. Like immortality, bless'd light That burns beyond death's mournful night, A rainbow gleamed, resplendent, bright. Up to that bow a skylark sprung, And boldly, like a spirit, sung, Or Hope, the cherub ever young, Immortal Hope! that lifts us high, Cheers the sad heart, and shews the eye Calm peace behind the stormy sky. THE RAINBOW. 53 THE KAINBOW. Hail, radiant wonder of the sky ! Delight of old and young ; The admiration of each eye, By every poet sung. Charmed by thy beauty, many hued, Old age to youth runs back, When thy bright wonder was pursued From flowery track to track. The skylark from her grassy nest Springs up with carol loud, And bathes in sunny gleams her breast When thou art in the cloud. Time over thee asserts no power, Unsullied is thy sheen As when in Eden's leafy bower 'Twas first by Adam seen : D 54 THE RAINBOW. Or round the ark, hope to inspire, Its glorious splendours broke, And from them to earth's second sire The Lord in mercy spoke. Whene'er I see thy beauteous shine Gleam o'er man's low abode, My heart conceiveth hope divine, And renders thanks to G-od. Thou art unlike that word, fair bow, Of which in pledge thou'rt given ; An evanescent shadow thou, It, stedfast as the heaven. faith's chamber. 55 FAITH'S CHAMBEK. Faith has a holy art, Whilst marking through Time's glass How swift the moments dart, Her aching heart to cheer ; She smiles, as on they pass, That glory draws so near. Faith's Chamber's small and mean, But through her lattice pane Celestial sights are seen ; So she with ravish'd eyes Feasts, and can scarce refrain To speak her ecstasies. Faith, in her Cabinet, A wondrous mirror has, Where she such sights can get As in the saddest day, And the most mournful pass, Her spirit well can stay. 56 faith's chamber. In it she can behold, E'en in the stormiest weather, Things that may make her bold, Sunshine, and peace, and hope, All blessed things together In heaven, or 'neath heaven's cope. Angels, she there can see, On the celestial towers ; In deep felicity The hosts of the forgiv'n, In calm and holy bowers, Singing the songs of heaven. Bright warders to and fro Upon their charge that pass, G-uardians of saints below, In panoply of light ; The throne, the sea of glass, The day that knows no night. But 0, speak not of these ; They from her vision fade, For she, enraptur'd, sees On His renowned seat, Him who her ransom paid, And worships at His feet. A COLLOQUY. 57 A COLLOQUY. Why, cheerless soul ! this sad lament ? — The breakers roar, the storms augment. — But fiercest blasts are soonest spent. — Friends pine and die, they all have gone, Cold, crumbling, 'neath the churchyard stone.- Thou'lt meet them all anon, anon. — The rider pale and gaunt draws near, His hoofs upon the flints I hear. — A blunted sword, a pointless spear ! — The Precept's wrath denouncing word, Justice' inexorable sword. — Was answered, suffered by thy Lord. — To walk with Glod I cannot find, For heart impure and treach'rous mind. — Thy dross shall all be soon refined. 58 A COLLOQUY. Come on, view from this height serene The promised land, transcendent scene ! — But Jordan rolls his floods between ; His brimming floods, so cold and dark. — The trumpets sound, the Priests, may'st mark, Into the midst have borne the ark. THOUGHTS BY THE SEA BEACH. 59 THOUQHTS BY THE SEA BEACH. The melancholy beach I trode, The skies, that with noon's fervour glow'd, Took twilight's purple dyes ; Hour ! consecrate to pensive thought, And dreamlike revery inwrought With endless imag'ries ! Across the ocean's bosom dim Night's gathering shadows ghostlike swim ; Along the rueful coast The beams of the still glowing west Shone on the sea cliff's rugged crest, Its flanks in gloom were lost. At the steep base of each dark rock The briny swell in surges broke, Whilst Echo's mournful tongue Eepeated hoarse, through the blind caves, The plunge of the unhappy waves, Or in the fissures hung. 60 THOUGHTS BY THE SEA BEACH, As ship bereft of governance Drifts o'er the measureless expanse At will of tide and wind ; So, pacing that forsaken coast, My mind, in hopeless musings lost, To Fancy I resigned. Through the vexed air a plaintive sound Mourned sad from the horizon's bound, Then sunk in silence deep, But only to renew its song In mournful measures deep and long, Like voices heard in sleep. Sad was it as the spirit pent In the Eolian instrument In bitter grief that sighs, When the enraptured joy she hears Of her unmanacled compeers Swift darting through the skies. It seemed the pity moving dirge Of myriads buried 'neath the surge In oozy caves that lie, Far down in the abysses steep, The dreary realms of chaos deep As heaven's blue dome is high. THOUGHTS BY THE SEA BEACH. 61 Old age is there, youth's graceful charms, Babes folded in their mothers' arms, — 0, melancholy wreck !— There, hearts the waves that proudly rode, And grim old admirals who trode The thunder bearing deck. Far far above the oozy soil In snaky folds sea monsters coil, But there Death reigns alone ; Reigns ever there in silence dread, And awful gloom unvisited By star that ever shone. No wandering sunbeam ventures there, No flash from the mild lunar sphere ; The wild tornado's breath, That, sweeping fierce the upper seas, Wrecks the rich laden argosies, Bespects the realms of Death. Thou wilt not yield them to our pain, Our prayers to thee are all in vain, Of pity thou hast none ! In calm thou scornest us ; on high Thy surges toss, in mockery Of the poor widow's moan. 62 THOUGHTS BY THE SEA BEACH. Kelentless as thou art, Sea ! To mortal prayers and sympathy Shall sound a summons dread, Then heaven shall pass like gossamer, The earth be purified by fire, And thou shalt yield thy dead. THE CHURCHYARD OF THE BOROUGH. 63 THE CHURCHYARD OF THE BOBOUGH. 0, what a mighty company reside in silence here ! Small is the spot, but than the town more populous I fear. Four ancient walls enclose it all in half an acre's space, On these old walls' entablatures quaint imag'ries you trace. Well lodged within these narrow bounds of burghers — strange to say — A multitude far greater dwells than throng the streets to-day. They, who for long six hundred years dwelt here in easy state, Peopled the borough's pannelled rooms, its mansions small and great, Its busy markets thronged, and paced its antique balconies, Or, like the tree top rooks, looked down from turrets in the skies ; Its guilds that knew their trades right well, its cunning craftsmen too, 64 THE CHURCHYARD OF THE BOROUGH. Its merchants rich, its traffickers, its artists, not a few ; Its thrifty wives and damoselles, when household work was done, Who rustled through its walks in silks beneath the evening sun, Are all assembled silently within this narrow spot, Their industry, their merriment, their very names forgot. Busy as ever is the town, whate'er beneath the sun They schemed and planned from day to day is by their children done. The very shadows of their homes, fantastical and tall, In morn and even's slanting beams upon their tomb- stones fall. In the very heart of the town's stir and bustlement they lie, And yet remote as time's first hour is from eternity. In niches of their sculptured tombs the swallow's nest is hung, Where in grey dawn of early morn she chirrups to her young. The anvil rings, and one by one the blending sounds arise, THE CHURCHYARD OF THE BOROUGH. 65 Dinned through the town, like a beehive, by buzzing industries. — Unheard, unheeded all, their sleep shall undisturbed rest, Till on Doom's morn the angel peals his dreadful trumpet blast. 66 DEATH AS IT APPEARS TO SENSES. DEATH AS IT APPEAES TO SENSES. 0, hast thou ever witness been To Nature's last, her saddest scene, When from her clay built tenement The viewless spirit forth is sent ? Was not your mind with awe subdued When you before the dead one stood ? The window whence the spirit flung Her glances, the persuasive tongue Her dulcet instrument; now barr'd The one, no more the other heard. You gaze a sceptic on the dead. It cannot be that life has fled. What wonder ! what bewilderment 1 Ah no, the mind will not assent To what the eye affirms; she will Persist that life must linger still. You muse, you yearn, you wonder why The dead one opes no more his eye, DEATH AS IT APPEARS TO SENSES. 67 And why the tongue no longer may For kind words given kind words repay, And why the hand you fondly press Gives no return of tenderness. Not from the clouds the lightning's lance But straight you catch the dazzling glance, Soon as you break the casket fair The treasured incense loads the air ; But from her tenement of clay Not thus the spirit glides away, The eye beholds her not, the ear No signal of her flight can hear; Unheard, invisible, alone By sad and dread negations known. 68 DEATH, WHERE IS THY STINQ? DEATH, WHEEE IS THY STING? " From out thy house of clay" — Dread summons! — " Come away I" — 'Tis Death's resistless hand I Firm on the Kock now stand I Of guilt a mountain load Kises 'twixt thee and G-od, To plunge thee down in night, To quench thy spirit's light. Thy sins of youth and age Crowd up, and round thee rage, To hurl thee to the gloom Of wrath and final doom. Though sorely thus beset, Horror invades not yet Thy soul, nor does despair Kindle his torments there. DEATH, WHERE IS THY STING? 69 Thy face reflects thy peace Of soul, as, when storms cease, The sea's smooth mirror shews Heaven's undisturbed repose. Yea, thou beginn'st to sing Welcome to that dread king Who all things, low and high, Speeds to their destiny. When, frowning, he displayed His terrors thick arrayed, He in his quiver found No shaft that thee could wound. Across the sea forlorn Faith has thee safely borne, Though long sore tempest toss'd Thou now art near the coast. Celestial glories bright Imparadise thy sight ; Thy soul in ecstasies To their endearment flies. 70 LINES TO J , DEPARTED. LINES TO J , DEPAETED. Now thou hast reached thy goal, To thee Death opens wide The eternal gate, and bids thy soul Through the dread portal glide. Tears for the mourners sad, Weeping thee, to them lost, But joy to thee, in glory clad. With the celestial host. With deepest sorrow fraught, Am I who miss thy love, Till like a sunbeam comes the thought, How blest thou art above. QUESTIONS FOR PRIDE. 71 QUESTIONS FOE PKIDE. When Pride begins to rise and storm, and in Thy breast her cunning flatteries to spin, Admonish her of folly, weakness, sin. Tell her, that when a few brief years have fled, She in the dust must hide her tarnished head, Hissed from the world, with slimy worms bespread. Ask her — if it be fit that she should flame Before the world in state, when from the same Vain stage she soon shall be thrust off with shame ! Ask her — where are thy mighty kingdoms gone Whose vast renown through all the earth was blown; Egypt, Assyria, Persia, Babylon ! Ask — where thy valiant conquerors, who swept The land and sea ? who men in turmoil kept ? Into what silent corners have they crept ? 7 Z QUESTIONS FOR PRIDE. Take her to the proud Pyramids, and say — Canst thou decypher whose this royal clay Crumbling to dust, as soon as fetched to day ? Take her to the Museums, point her there The wrecks from Time's vast ocean fished with care, — Are these thy gallant trophies, Pride, declare ? If still she vaunt — her brow is brass, her eyes Are shameless, and her tongue's all sophistries, — Change thou the theme, yet strictly catechise. Make her speak out — if e'er a time she knew When heaven was purged of a rebellious crew ? Ask — who these legions to rebellion drew ? Ask her — if e'er into fair Eden's bound She stole, and in its walks our parents found Arrayed in holiness, with glory crowned ? Question her — knowest thou aught about the tree ? Come, Pride, speak out — canst thou inform how he, Once bless'd, is sunk so deep in misery ? QUESTIONS FOR PRIDE. 73 When thou hast shewn her how an angel host Was ruined by her wiles, and mankind lost — Ask her — if it becomes her still to boast ? Should she still make defence, if thou art wise Haste to be gone, such fascination lies In this cursed Syren's song, who listens dies. 74 AUTUMN. AUTUMN. I never saw a day more bright, I never saw a day more calm, The air is full of warmest light, The zephyr's breath is balm, The leaves in the deep forest fall, Yellow, sapless, withered all. The zephyr woos them with his song. He never played a sweeter strain The thickets of the wood among, Yet fall they thick as rain — In the forest depths they fall and fall, Yellow, sapless, withered all. Delicious incense rises round, Steamed warmly on the fragrant air, Yet fall they with a dirgelike sound, The boughs will soon be bare — In the wood's ferny depths they fall, Yellow, sapless, withered all. AUTUMN. 75 The frost at morn, the frost at night, The fogs that muffle up the moon, Work and defeat the genial light, And kindly glow of noon — They blight the leaves, and so they fall, Yellow, sapless, withered all. Fool ! 'tis not Autumn's change you see, Nor seared leaves by the forest rill; Death shaketh bare a nobler tree, The world-wide Ygdrasil; 'Tis human lives, her leaves, that fall, Yellow, sapless, withered all. PAST AND FUTURE. PAST AND FUTUKE. Look not behind, look not behind, For sorrow only fills the past, Thy heart shall faint, thine eyes be blind. With tears of sadness falling fast. It is the land of shades, a shroud, A film obscure invests it all, Or if a sunbeam pierce the cloud, 'Tis only on the grave to fall : The grave, in whose remorseless gloom Infolded our beloved ones lie ; The grave even Hope that would consume, Life's brightest star, if Hope could die. Look forward ! Forward Hope leads on ; And forward, Faith, with eye sublime, To where Eternity leans down Serene beyond the mists of Time. INCONSTANCY. 77 INCONSTANCY. ever changeful sea ! In thy inconstancy 1 am too like to thee ! Of every wind the sport thou art ; Of every passion my vain heart. But now I thought my breast Had found at length her rest, Almost with glory bless'd. Such dreams scarce through my fancy pass, When all is marr'd like broken glass, Just as when heaven we see Eeflected gloriously In thy smooth breast, sea ! A puff of wind blows out, and lo, No vestige of the wondrous shew ! 78 LINES. LINES. Aloft through rosy ether borne On dew bespangled wing, There is a bird that makes the morn With his glad carol ring. And all night long there is a bill Whose witching songs delight, Hark, how his notes the arbours fill And charm the pale moonlight. And wouldst thou emulate the lark, And night's sweet minstrel too ? Then cherish well devotion's spark, Grive heavenly love its due. With many a song thy heart shall cheer Herself through many an hour, When other song thou canst not hear In grove or shady bower. THE CATACOMBS AND THE COLOSSEUM. 79 THE CATACOMBS AND THE COLOSSEUM. Of misery a sad abyss, Unending catacombs ! Of graves a very wilderness, A labyrinth of tombs ! The dead below, the dead around, The dead on every side, His countless slain, in gloom profound, Tis kind in Death to hide. Devouring phantom, ghastly, pale, What dismal work is this ? We must thee " king of terrors " hail In thy metropolis. — The Colosseum's myriad shout Bursts far into the sky ; And " To the lions lead them out, The Christians," is the cry. 80 THE CATACOMBS AND THE COLOSSEUM. Old age and helpless womanhood, And infants newly born, In the arena — hell of blood — By savage beasts are torn. Approving senators look on And swell the crowd's applause, From woman's heart, congealed to stone, No sigh the slaughter draws. Christ on their zeal in martyrdom Looks with complacent eyes ; His angels in a throng have come To waft them to the skies. LTNES. 81 LINES. Sweet scenes far far behind us lie, Oases of the waste, What wonder if the longing eye Fond glances at them cast ? If we beseech fond Memory Back to these bowers to haste ? happy, happy, happy gleams That cheered life's pilgrimage, Then under Hope's bewitching beams We pass'd from stage to stage ! Dreams ! yes ; but they were happy dreams : It was the golden age. The sky, then bright, is troubled now With tempest, whirlwind, rain ; Time cuts into the heart and brow, And gnaws with care and pain. Immortal he on earth would grow Who fetched these days again. 82 LINES. Ah ! we must sit, and sadly see Still deeper shadows fall, Till utter darkness mournfully Infold us like a pall, The wrecks drift past us on life's sea Of our joys one and all. Morn never kindles now so clear, Dew-drops glance not so bright, The lark makes not such merry cheer, Nor mounts so vast a height ; All things a faded aspect wear, There is no such delight. — Such trifles on the mournful lyre Let idle bards pursue ; And while they sing let Age catch fire, 'Tis all to truth untrue. If earthly pleasures swiftly fade, Diviner rise in view. Immortal glory overhead Kindles along the sky, And in it Love has come to read Our wondrous destiny. If Faith receive, if Hope give heed, Our home shall be the sky. THE BIBLE. 83 THE BIBLE. Precious Volume ! Book of Heaven, To mankind in mercy given ! Heaven above and earth below With their glories thou dost shew, Whence their being did begin, Whence their lofty origin, In thy every page and line, Book, Book, thou art Divine ! Man has no measure for the sky. Far beneath his plummet lie Ocean's depths. Can he embrace In his thoughts the boundless space ? Wondrous Yolume ! in thee lie Deeps as deep and heights as high ; These declare God's works abroad : Thou reveal'st the thoughts of God. 84 THE BIBLE. Were all volumes writ by men Shipwrecked in oblivion, then Mighty loss would be sustained, The laborious wisdom gained From all ages that have pass'd, Perished, into chaos cast, Men, aghast, would grope about, All these luminous stars put out. Yet, the Book of Life remaining, We might cease our sad complaining. With it other books compare, They as dust to jewels are. They are stars that rise and climb And set within the sphere of time, Thou art an eternal light, Pole star of the infinite. They o'er earthly things preside, Thou to bliss the prow dost guide Through the blackest gulfs of woe, Where the maddest whirlwinds blow. They at death their charge resign, There thou dost most clearly shine. Brightest in the darkest hour, Strongest where fails all mortal power. the soul's release. 85 THE SOUL'S RELEASE. A thousand ears have listened, A thousand bosoms glowed, Eyes with emotion glistened, And tears of rapture flowed. Over our land has blown again The silver trumpet's glorious strain. Give slumber to the weary, Dew to the languid flowers, Stars to the midnight dreary, Drench the parched fields with showers ; But pour into the troubled breast The love of heaven, to give it rest. — The conscience stricken soul In vain seeks rest within, She hears Wrath's thunders roll, The vengeance cry of Sin, Wild voices call athwart the gloom, The wail of death, the shriek of doom. 86 the soul's release. A half desponding eye She raised, as Mercy took His trumpet and on high Its thrilling raptures shook : To sing what she then felt and saw Would tears of admiration draw. The garden agony, Christ's sacred woe and prayer, The Mount of Calvary, The cross, the spear, were there, The crown of thorns, the cup of woe, The fainting heart, the sinking brow. Immeasurable price For her redemption paid ! Love prompts the sacrifice, And Justice is allayed. Justice with Love is now agreed For sinful man with God to plead. She looks no more within, She looks to Christ alone, Feels not the curse of sin, And glory is her own. — More blessed than the beams of morn, Christ's matchless love to souls forlorn ! the soul's release. 87 Angels on hovering wings, Heaven's universal throng, Sweep all their golden strings, Fill all the heaven with song, As Mercy leads her by the hand Before her God, approved to stand. SONNETS. ON A PAINTING-. How faithfully Art's hand this scene has traced, Each object Memory, as an ancient friend. Salutes, more than well satisfied to spend An hour to hail again what time defaced. Warmly the summer air sleeps on the brow Of yon high hill, whence swells a prospect wide Of pastoral mountains, o'er whose sheep-speck' d side The shadows of the white clouds come and go ; On the more distant peaks of mellow light Rich masses sail, like heavenly thoughts that find Entrance into, and fill with calm delight, And soothe and sanctify the good man's mind. — happy thoughts ! that shall endure alway, Unlike those transient gleams that fade so soon away. SONNETS. 89 EVENING. beauteous Night, the burnished heaven is stained With hues most glorious ! In the twilight dim The upland crofts and trees and hamlets swim. Across the river levels purple-grained, Dim mists float thin and curl around the slopes. On topmost boughs of the near grove the leaves, In the mild breeze that with theirs interweaves Its note, dance swift. Each feathered warbler drops Asleep. Day, folded in the arms of peace And silence, shuts its eye, more bright to rise A few hours thence. — Even so the good man dies ; A lovely twilight o'er him steals, till cease The throbbings of his heart : soon from the tomb To rise in the great day's unfading bloom. 90 THE BK00K. The brook that glances through this narrow vale, The happy brook that ever ever sings, And decks its bank with wildflowers dark and pale. Nodding like naiads o'er its crystal springs, The happy brook I followed at rny ease, Thro' moss, and fern, and scented meadow-sweet. And purple thyme, sweet nectar of the bees, And sedges whence the winds glad measures beat. We parted company : a twilight grove Keceived the stream into which path was none, So close its interlacing boughs it wove, I heard the brook within still singing on. — happy stream, that ever can rejoice In the sweet company of thine own voice. SONNETS. 91 Happy old man, tranquil thy life has been, A calm and cheerful walking with thy G-od, Still following Faith along the heavenly road, Thro' rough or smooth, 'neath skies dark or serene. No cloud, no shadow, mars the placid scene Thy soul contemplates now, as near the beach Of the eternal world thy life doth stretch Like home bound ship that long at sea has been. The sailor's heart is filled with hope, and he Already seems at his own hearth to be, Embracing kindred, wife, and children dear, While all the village bells a welcome ring. — So heavenly sights, as thou to heaven draw'st near, Brighten upon thy heart and make thee sing. 92 SONNETS. THE NEM^EAN LION. When 'gainst that brindled monster, typhon-born, Who the Nemsean neighbourhood in fear Of blood and rapine kept from year to year, Whilst parents sad their mangled offspring mourn, Alcmena's son advanced, the beast in scorn Huffed the uplifted club and brandished speai, But found ere long that mock'ry purchased dear, And scorn repaid with more disdainful scorn. — Alcides doffed his arms, in dire embrace Compressed the blood-gorged monster trunk and mane, And crushed to death, whilst writhed his strength in vain, Glared his red eye, and foamed his savage face. — 0, could I so destroy that rav'ning pest That works such havoc daily in my breast ! SONNETS. 93 SUMMER CLOUDS. Soft clouds! the breezes round you must be still, Ye so unmoved by any motion lie On the pale azure of the luminous sky, Like a white flock on peaceful Syrian hill, To whom their shepherd, couched by tinkling rill, Pipes from the thicket. Quietly, heart and eye, Ye gaze up to the noonbeams earnestly, And with their love your panting bosoms fill : So happy, happy, ye would never move. If ye have any pity, zephyrs cease Your gentlest breath, 'twill but disturb their peace. Spoil not, I pray you, so complete a love ! — And my soul, that thus thou evermore Couldst drink thy Saviour's love at every pore ! 94 SONNETS. KUTHEKFOBD'S LETTEBS. A galaxy of lovely starlike thoughts ; Fair sister planets kindled at one sun ; A throng of brooks from one sweet hill that run Through meads with blossom'd asphodels enwrought ; A lute by a most perfect master taught; A thirst no stream on earth can satisfy ; A hunger that must feed on Christ or die ; A soul with heavenly longing nigh distraught ; A garden where the heavenly sisters sing; A cabinet of all costly jewels rare ; A casket filled with frankincense and myrrh ; A chamber where our eyes may see the king. — Askest thou where the writer ? Gone to dwell With Him in heaven he loved on earth so well. SONNETS. 95 TO WELSH, IN BLACKNESS CASTLE. One said, " Though dark the dungeon, it is not The utter darkness." — Welsh ! it seems to me, In chains and dungeons 'twas thy glorious lot To reach of spiritual light and liberty Supremest heights, else how could e'er thy pen Compass such thoughts ? not often have I found In weightiest volumes of most saintly men, Musings where such celestial gleams abound. — Thou wast a gift of God, thou prophet sage, To whom such gifts, to whom such grace was given ! Thousands have looked through thy inspired page As through a casement opening into heaven. 96 SONNETS. Dr JOHN OWEN. A mighty soul is in this man. He long Has sat, and mused at the celestial springs Of revelation. He profoundest things Has weighed that unto Grod and man belong. Smit with the love divine, the morning sees Him in his chamber, and through the long night He courteth thought, by the pale study light, Through all her heights and depths of just degrees. Then with a giant's strength he takes his pen, While like a legion armed and in array, His sentences cleave their resistless way, And win the Truth from Error back to men. — Hark ! 'tis his march, the burnished hosts draw near, With trumpets in the van and trumpets in the rear ! LINES ON A BURIAL GROUND IN A WOOD. 97 LINES ON A BUEIAL QKOUND IN A WOOD. How still this burial place, beneath the arch Of this great sylvan minster, spann'd with boughs ! Though noon intense burns through the upper sky, A twilight cool is here. Kich imag'ry, Such as the chisel cannot imitate, Is fashioned by the sunbeams that stream down Through every interspace, emblazoning all The pillar'd trees and foliage, and it weaves A net- work wonderful upon the sward. The zephyrs lurking in the alleys green, Flutter their gauzy wings, and with their fan Eelieve the brow, and almost lull to sleep. And what a wilderness of mingled sounds The ear receives ! the many-noted birds, Choiring in their dim arbours, the deep chirm Of insect life, the hush of forest brooks, That through the green 'ry glance like threads of fire. Were all the sounds that glide into the ear 98 LINES ON A BURIAL GROUND IN A WOOD. Beckon'd, then would we note, at intervals, From fields and rustic granges far remote, The song of sunburnt labour at his toil. Nor fewer the rich odours that compound The incense steaming up through the warm air, The incense Nature offers up to God On the great sapphire altar of the noon. And that praise and prayer from rational men As sweetly, freely, and at all times rose. Then were the harmony complete between All the Creator's works, and earth were bless'd. How fitly chosen for the trance of death, One cannot but observe, is this quiet spot. The sleepers here with time have shaken hands, For ever said " farewell " to the concerns Of life, to its continual busy stir, Its arts, its industry, its peace, its war. The world, too, as forgetful is of them As they of it. It far away from this Pursues its path, or only looks in here When a new grave is opened to receive Another of its denizens, whom Death Has summoned to his shadowy, silent halls. Could one the history write of those who sleep Here in oblivion, the tale with tears Would be obstructed, but to what avail ? LINES ON A BURIAL GROUND IN A WOOD. 99 'Twere only to repeat the story told, Not twice, but often o'er and o'er again, Through long six thousand years, a tale of woe That's never finished, and shall have no end Till man's weak race from earth quite disappears. But we may woo the vagrant muse to tell What fancy was at work with him, what aim, Who with his dying breath besought his friends — " I charge you, friends, that here my ashes rest, That in this sylvan haunt ye bury me." Was he a man sick of the storms of life, Its shews, its pageantries, its fleeting pomp, Its flatteries, its profit, and its loss ? And sought he healing for the wounds it gave In this retreat, pursuing tranquil thoughts ? And, as I now do, yielding himself up Passive to all its dreamy influences Powerful upon the meditative mind, Though seldom felt and scarcely understood By those still busy with the world's affairs ; And by these influences impressed, was he Wafted far into vision land, the strange, The glorious mystic land, where thoughts that fear Contact with the rough handling of the crowd Work freely, and to wondrous forms expand ? Dearer to the sedate such musings than 100 LINES ON A BURIAL GROUND IN A WOOD. His gold to Av'rice. Idle it may seem, 'Midst thin abstractions, and mind fantasies, To hunt an hour, yet in such airy fields What pleasures wait, what pure delights are won ! Was he, the man who first conceived the wish Here to he buried, and besought his friends With his last words to see his wish fulfilled, A dreamer such as this ? full of the fancy — 'Twere pleasant here to sleep that long long sleep Beneath the shining of the open heavens ? Among the flick'ring shadows numberless ? Amidst the murmurings of the hermit brooks, And never ceasing chorus of the groves ? Or was he one — in ancient times were such, Though now they are but thinly strewn — who lived Near to his God, familiar with the things Beyond the tomb, allied more to the next Than to the present world, more skill'd in thoughts Heavenly, than cunning in the ways of men ? A man to deep religious musings given, Strengthening his earnest soul with truths sublime, All things contemplating thro' faith's purged eyes? And oft, like Jacob, wrestling through the night With that strong Angel ? Oft, it may be, here, As he sat meditating on the word, The Spirit to his ravished sight unveiled LINES ON A BURIAL GROUND IN A WOOD. 101 The heavens with their dread mysteries, or to Paul Wrapt into paradise : for, what joys Unuttered and unutt'rable, the saints Meet in communion intimate with G-od ; With many a touch that makes their hearts, o'er- flow'd With peace, weep, and in holy wonder pause. Too sacred to be spoken of to men, Save in an indirect and general way, But 0, what source of gratitude to God, And 0, what source of comfort to the soul ! Was he, the man who sought sepulture first In this deep solitude, so favourable For meditation deep, and earnest prayer, One such as this ? And did he think — 'twere well, Where such soul exercise he had enjoyed, To rest in expectation of the peal That to the judgment shall arouse the world ? To him the summons when, redeemed from dust, And made immortal, and with glory clothed, His body shall arise, companion fit For the blest soul already glorified ? One place to another to prefer may seem Weak, and perhaps is weak, since everywhere Alike thou'rt present, Lord ! and since the souls Of thy beloved have easy quick ascent 102 LINES IN A BURIAL GROUND IN A WOOD. To Thee, whenever death the silver cord Unties, and breaks the pitcher at the well : Since, too, their ashes, wheresoever laid, Or scattered by the winds, shall hear the call Of the last trumpet, and rejoicing rise. Weakness, perhaps, it is, yet such as men Have ever felt: even in the strongest minds Fast rooted. Who would choose a stranger's grave ? Who not repose amongst the friends with whom He shared the joys and griefs of mortal life ? But howsoever settled this account, Blest man ! to whom such hope through faith is given. He, at the eventide of life's short day, Can, with the appetite of labourer worn With his hard toil, who courts the boon of sleep, Compose himself for death, sure that the morn, When he awakes, shall brightly shine. G-lad morn Of an eternal day that ne'er shall close! TO THE MEMORY OF A FRIEND. 103 TO THE MEMOEY OF A FBIEND. Thou hast departed from this mortal world. For thee death's gates have opened, on thee closed. Though I no more shall take thee by the hand, See thy fond eye, hear thy sweet voice no more, In thought I daily with thee shall commune. Thou shalt be present with me when I sit In my lone chamber ; when I meditate At noon or eventide, thou shalt be there. Well I remember, when a little child, I knew thee with thy waving flaxen locks Floating upon thy shoulders, like a cloud Of golden vapour round the morning sun. I can recal thee in thy prime of youth. — But 0, what crowding recollections throng The mem'ry; what old faces long forgot, Some of them shrouded in the mists of death, Some withered by the heat of tropic suns, Some ploughed with care ! — but I behold them now All sparkling with the glow of happiness, 104 TO THE MEMORY OF A FRIEND. ■ As in those far off days when we began With them the pilgrimage of this brief life ; Ah, then not sad, for hope illum'd our path, Like the clear sunbeams of the young-eyed morn. Dear friend ! how often have we wandered far From the town's bustle, in our schoolboy days, Upon the mountain heights, and through the woods, Our hearts together throbbing with delight, When half way up among the clouds we breathed The bracing air upon the loftiest peaks ; We hailed with rapture every sight and sound Of these wild regions, they in our young breasts Kindled enthusiasm, and we dreamed Of all impossible and arduous things : We heard aerial whispers in the clouds, And in their shadows saw strange forms of power. Often together have we in the glades Through which grey Esk like an old shepherd strays, Herding his silver-footed streams through steeps Bock-pinnacled, and dark mysterious caves, Courted the twilight shadows when the heat Of fervid June burned through the glist'ning air ; There, in the thought inspiring hush of noon, Conn'd many an hour together, heart and tongue, The works of famous bards, whose powers called up Ideal glories never realized TO THE MEMORY OF A FRIEND. 105 Amongst men's sons save only in desire; Or those whose eloquence enthrall'd the crowd, Binding them to their will, through sweet constraint Of speech almost divine. And what a precious gift of heaven a friend Whose sympathies at each point touch our own ; A friend identical with us in feeling, Imagination, understanding, faith ! How precious friendship on so broad a base Erected! drawing love, and hope, and fear, From the same fountains! Such in thee I found. And therefore feel thy memory whilst I live Must still be near me, near as my own heart, For of myself thou hast become a part. I never can forget that day when last — Thy last, too, in this world — I thee beheld, And sat beside thee in communion sweet. Oft had we held communion sweet, exchanged Our hearts' most secret thoughts, yet ne'er before Felt I such pure and unalloyed delight In thy dear company. Sad was the thought, The certainty, that at thy journey's end Almost thou wast arrived, where it behoved We should shake hands, ne'er to salute again On this side time. A dismal shade it cast Over my heart, but soon that cloud gave way 106 TO THE MEMOEY OF A FRIEND. Before unwonted light and gladness. We, Upon the edge of time, the farthest point To which a mortal destined still to live Can travel with a friend destined to die, Sat in the splendour of immortal hope. But what tranquil and celestial peace Shone in thine eye, and shed a radiant glow, As of the glory that beyond the tomb Awaits the Lord's redeemed, on every line Of thy already sainted face. Then, then All doubt had vanished, every mist that screens The future for a moment had dissolved. To thee what a soul strengthening view was given Of the sufficiency of Jesus' power ! Of the sufficiency of Jesus' love ! Bavished by which, though mortal pain did burn Like fire through every nerve of thy poor frame, Thy look was of unutterable bliss ! Christ took thee by the hand and led thee safe Through the cold freezing river — through the gloom Of utter horror that divides this world From that to come. Death was a lovely thing. Thou hand and heart stretch'dst out to welcome him, Bidding him with good cheer to lead the way, As if already thou diclst feel thy feet Firm planted on the shores of paradise. THE TWO PORTRAITS. 107 THE TWO POETEAITS. This hour the artist's skill demands our praise. What have we here ? Two portraits ; one of youth, The other of old age ; the youth, the age, Of the same individual. Let us new Peruse them carefully, they much can teach. Observ'st thou not how on that youthful face Hope kindles like the day-spring, ardent hope, Self-confident, secure in her own strength ; As yet no rugged obstacle has crossed Her path, or tasked her might. Not hard to guess Thy views and aspirations, spirit young, On that bold forehead throned, thro' these large eyes, The windows of thy mortal tenement, Gazing in wonder out. Thy feelings are Joyful — exuberant, spontaneous joy; Thy speculations airy, golden clouds, Far 'bove the region of this world's affairs. Thy burning aspirations all take aim At things impossible. A dreamer thou, 108 THE TWO PORTRAITS. And every vision of thy dream is bright, Wonderful, glorious. Alas ! that e'er Out of thy paradise thou shouldst be driven, As soon thou must, if so thy destined stars Be such as rule the ways of mortal men. But pass we to the other. What suggest These thoughtful features, on which one may mark Settled repose, after a struggle hard Through long eventful years ? Where now young Hope, Winged Aspiration ? Have ye perished quite Amidst the tempest, and enduring strife Which men must wage with all without, and oft Wage with himself, as in a fallen world Behoves, where many things are out of joint ? How sad, how poor, is age, which has no share Id this world's common gladness ! Age, on which From the dread world beyond the tomb no ray Of comfort shines to lighten and to cheer ! Alas for such ! Not such this aged face, So venerable with the mist of years ; On it we read nought of despair, no sour Splenetic hatred of the faded world — Faded from its regard; nor hopeless dread Of what of doom waits it on the farther side Of death. True, with the same far-darting light THE TWO PORTRAITS. 109 No longer flash thine eyes, the ecstatic glow Kindled by inexpressible desires, The charm, the reverie of opening life. I know not what events have filled the gap Between thy youth and these few hoary hairs, But well may judge, as is the general lot, Thine has been mingled — darkness checkering light, Light darkness, joy with grief conflicting, grief With joy, despair now threat'ning awful things, No hope, and inward strength baffling despair. what a mystery is man ! He lives In mysteries unfathomable, vast. Faith only can uphold us and give peace On this much vexed tumultuous sea of life. Faith opens up a harbour where we all May anchor safely till the storm be calmed; A refuge in the gloom, where we may wait Secure, until the morning light shall dawn Of the eternal day. Faith takes her stand Firm on the word of G-od, and rests secure, In fixed assurance that the eternal word Shall be fulfilled. Let us by this hold fast, And reap the comfort from such hope that springs. Into that harbour, as I fondly deem, Thou, old man, hast been guided. I refer To this that calmly thoughtful countenance. 110 THE TWO PORTRAITS. To me it seems thou waitest patiently Till the Lord call thee from this mortal scene To heaven's full joy. The sacred scriptures spread Before thee, I would fondly fetch to build To confirmation my heart's earnest hope. HOLIDAY EXCURSION. Ill HOLIDAY EXCUKSION. Look at this image rudely cut in stone, They say Saint Patrick's dust lies here, and this His effigy ; but whether it be so Let antiquarians search. The neighbourhood, And many travellers from far distant parts, Who from their course turn this way a few hours To spend, accept the popular tradition ; So, whether true or not, it does to them The part of truth, and brings before their mind A great old saint, of labours manifold, Arduous, and crowned with many and good points. — We had a holiday. From the neighbouring city We came in a swift ship : we disembarked At Bowling ; and the hills that steeply rise, With crag and wood, up from the river's feet, We climbed, not easily tired, for the bright day Was full of breezes, bringing on their wings Fragrance from distant heaths and mountain swards, And gardens where the enamelled progeny 112 HOLIDAY EXCURSION. Of June, chiefly the roses pale and deep, Must have glowed thick as stars. The hreezes brought These odours, mingled in an essence sweet, And blew them in our faces ; they gave not The sunbeams, fiercely hot, the power to smite Too sultrily. We soon came to a nook Of most bewitching loveliness. I've seen Such sometimes in picture, oftener In dreamland. What a sylvan loveliness We sat in, and gazed on ! Could one believe Such music in the leaves ? How they did toss Their cymbals, and how witchingly the breeze Piped through the glades, and in the branches sung, Then in a moment darted far aloft Amongst the clouds, then back ! A little jet Of water, from its fern o'ershadowed course, O'er a moss woven rock, into the pool Let itself down in silver threads ; it spread Itself in its descent upon the slope Of the cool rock, as one may see the locks New combed of maiden on a summer morn Caught by the breeze, and on the rosy air Blown with their curls ; and having gained the pool, And caught a glimpse of the blue sky above, Again it glode unseen through verdant paths With a blythe voice. Had one been here alone, HOLIDAY EXCURSION. 113 His mind had in a moment been enthralled In musings beautiful of that far land Whence poets and imaginative men Bring their rare glorious merchandise : but we Indulged discourse. We gazed, we talked, we sang, We laughed, we sat among the sunny beams, And leaves, and breezes, and the shadows fleet Of nimble clouds. In at our eyes we took The vast impression of the glorious scene. Clyde ! as we looked upon thy noble stream, Poured by the hand of God through the rich vales Clothed with His gifts, and where the hands of man Have wrought such wonders of industrious skill ; When we surveyed whatever could be seen In the wide prospect through the midst of which Thy waters glide ; when we beheld the ships Darting like arrows up and down thy flood, Behind each ship a trail of sunny foam On this bright day, and all thy waters curled With waves ; next looked to the small flowers whose gems Studded each inch of sward, then to the clouds, White, many tinted, some far up in space, Motionless, in the lower region some Bacing upon the winds, with sails full spread, Then to the innumerable leaves of every tree, 114 HOLIDAY EXCURSION. Quivering with motion, melody, and health, And listened to the song of choiring birds ; How could we but be glad, and how but see The hand of God, the footsteps of His power, The largeness of His bounty. He who can miss The Maker in His works on such a day, In such a vast profusion of His wonders, In the gushing gladness which to every thought Gives ravishment, has sunk to hopeless depths, And is a monster in the world. Poor man ! Break through the prison of death in which thy soul Satan has chained, come, hear thy Father's voice Speak clearly to thee. Him adore and love, Who for thy good, and thee to entertain, Has showered such bounties from His lib'ral hand. Be of good courage, let hope cheer thee on, Take pledges from the magnificence around Of future good, and ecstacies that wait Thee farther on, at stages far remote Of thy unending being, if with love You now receive your Father's gifts, and yield Obedience when He speaks both in the word Of nature and of grace ! — The slanting beams And lengthening shadows in the mountain vales Hinted of day's decline, so from the heights We came, with song and converse, to the plains, HOLIDAY EXCURSION. 115 Bound once more for the city. We passed on To the quiet village, in whose burial ground The rude cut effigy of him I named Lies looking up to heaven through all the years. With hands met on the breast, and clasped in prayer; Amongst the rank weeds and the grass it lies, The chisel's markings all defaced with years, And covered with a robe of verdant moss, Yet a remembrancer that stirs the thoughts, And makes them busy with the old grey times In which he lived among rude men, and wrought Patiently, nobly, in the cause of G-od. Fables have gathered round his memory, A cloud of superstitions bright and dark. Such always rises when men idolize Some great one, and divert their thoughts from God To His servants, whom for mighty works He girds With attributes heroic both of thought And deed. So has it him befallen whose dust. Where'er its resting-place, here or elsewhere, I speak of, and whose effigy this is. Deduct the prodigies, the miracles, The fancies great or frivolous, in which Admiring generations have enshrined His name, and look upon the naked truth Sifted from the husks, we shall behold a man 116 HOLIDAY EXCURSION. Of whom the faith of Christ had such a hold, That its invisible and vast concerns, Far more than things of earth we see and touch, Had grown into realities most real. Behold him spend whole days and prayerful nights In meditation. Money, meat, and drink, Pleasure, ambition, traffic, merchandise, That make the whole world of irreverent men Lie far beneath his care, nor can detain His thoughts, except to pity those who are Bound in their fetters. Strange as it may seem, Incredible, and not to be explained By Mammon's worshippers, all worldly wealth Could not enrich him. A small cell, with stuff Sufficient to supply nature's few wants, With time for prayer, and reading of God's word, And meditation, better far to him Than palaces such as our merchants build, And load with luxuries. So different Their several schemes of life. Happy himself In Jesus Christ, he feels within him rise A strong necessity, the growth of love To Jesus, the Redeemer, and to man, To preach the faith to the perishing, aware Of their capacity to be blessed, and that The Gospel came to bless them. So his life, HOLIDAY EXCURSION. 117 Devoted to this cause, runs brightly on, Through fasting, labour, opposition, pains. To him such things are not what they appear ; He scarcely feels them, so upheld by the might Of love. Kough, savage natures not a few, Heathen, barbaric men, from him receive — Such instruments God uses — the divine Impulse, are civilized, renounce their rites Bloody, and cruel, and profligate, subdued To Jesus, walking meekly with Him here, In hope of glory and eternal life. — Whether in this, his native spot, or in The neighbouring isle, where he his labours good So earnestly pursued, his dust is laid, Is but of small account. This effigy, "With its traditions, led us to remember Whate'er we could of that great man and good, Who in such dark days as he lived in wrought So manfully, and with such faith and hope. His memory we honoured, but dared not To worship, rather gave we thanks to God Who raised him up, with many of like mind, To spread and keep alive the truth in times So dismal. But let us beware of doting Over the past, unmindful of the present, Which unto us is greater than the past. 118 HOLIDAY EXCURSION. The present 's full of hope, despite the flaws And horrid dislocations which the lust Of wealth, and living beyond honest means, And other miseries which human vice And folly have incurred. Upon the flood Of our great social ills the Ark of peace Still floats. 'Tis the mere cant of bold bad men To say the word and mission of the Cross Are obsolete. A thousand facts declare The gospel powerful in our days, as when At its first burst it carried life and peace Through all the empire. Its conquests never were Mightier, its heralds never more devoted. That which is destined, and the gospel is, To wrench the world from the usurped power Of Satan, and through all its kingdoms spread Messiah's reign of peace and holiness, Knows not decrepid age or failing power. SATURDAY NIGHT. 119 SATUEDAY NIGHT. It is the night before the Sabbath morn. Duly canst thou, as it returns, devote An hour, redeemed from thy industrious cares And occupations manifold, that task Thy strength and labour, to the holy work Of prayer and meditation ? It will prove A source of bliss to thee and many more. For then thou may'st from thy perplexities Eetire and bid them off. Then may'st ascend Ethereal spiritual heights, where vision comes Of heavenly truths and scenes scarce to be seen From the common level where most of thy time Must be consumed, and as they come in view, "What strength shall pass from them into thy soul ! Here is thy access to the throne of grace Opened for thee by Him who loved thy soul, And ransomed it with blood. No more the veil 120 SATURDAY NIGHT. Within which none dared venture save the priest, And that once only in the year, forbids Thy entrance, on the sanctities within To fix thy rev'rent eyes. That veil thou seest Is rent, and there, before the Mercy-Seat, Thou standest face to face with God. Thou may'st Speak with Him in His holy oracle, Undazzled by the awful beams that burn Around the sacred Presence. And being there, How awful is the place, and yet how sweet ! Thou lookest up and seest thy Father's face Beam on thee love ineffable — no trace Of wrath. That cloud has pass'd which once in gloom, Ere thou wast won to God, hid from thy view His countenance, whilst from its edges dark Flashed lightnings, and within its shrouded folds Muttered the thunders, in whose discords thou Didst hear the crash of doom. That cloud has pass'd. Then, as one when the tempest of the heavens Peals its last volley, and the sun again Bursts through the tumult, sees all nature's face Sparkling with rain-drops, and the sapphire sky Flooded with brightness, where the halcyon Peace Floats on her dove white wings, thou looking up The face of God behold'st, thy Father's face, SATURDAY NIGHT. 121 Complacent and unutterably sweet, And Jesus stands beside, who takes thy hand And leads thee to the Father, and he puts Thy hand in His, and love and peace spring up Betwixt thee and that Father reconciled. Over that peace-making the Holy Spirit Presides, and with his sacred sanction tells It shall for ever last. Behold what joy Spreads swift through all the myriads of the sky, As every eye is turned to thee in love. How they around thee crowd ! There is not one In their vast countless ranks who would not now, Thee to defend, encounter fire and flood, And speed, at God's behest, on thy behalf, Through every ward and desolate abode Of dark destruction. Hear'st thou them salute Thee, as a prince of theirs the prophet once, " man greatly beloved!" — What wonder thou Tremblest at thine one bliss ! canst scarce believe Thyself so happy. Nor should it surprise Thou art so humbled to the dust, so full Of self-reproach, yea, dumb for very shame, For what art thou, for whom the Lord of heaven, Triune Jehovah, has such wonders wrought Of mercy ? Thou, whom to reconcile The blood of Jesus flowed ? Thou, thus to be 122 SATURDAY NIGHT. Crowned by His hand with glory ne'er to fade ? Thou, thus to he saluted and made glad By all the angels in their heavenly bowers ? What art thou ? That thou knowest, and therefore art Confounded. Yet 'tis true as strange. Beware Of measuring by men's thoughts the thoughts of God. Well, thou art at the Mercy-Seat. It is The highest mount of vision. Thou may'st here To best advantage see all it behoves Thee most to note, whatever and whoever Lies next thy heart, in thy affection claims Supremest interest 'mongst created things, what a sacred height ! As one who stands Upon the top of Atlas sees beneath One half the world, and the uplifted edge Of ocean mixing with the skies, so thou Hast wonderful enlargement. To record What comes within thy sight, what longest day Would be sufficient ? There the sons of men Toil in the vale beneath, with the evil hosts, Which Hell has summon 'd thither. Some allied To their worst foes have lost all consciousness Of their great destinies; they only seek SATURDAY NIGHT. 123 Their brutal lusts and sensual appetites To gratify ; of these Belial is prince. Less blindly and less eagerly sweat not The votaries of Mammon. Every devil Has his own worshippers. But other some Seek, though in vain, regardless of the star Of heaven which only points the way, to shape Their course through the wild breakers, all their pains But only run the vessel's head more sure On the foam vexed rocks. There, too, the host Of Israel maintains — with fainting heart How often ? — the soul- tasking fight of faith. Seize thy advantage then, thyself approve One on whose mind the welfare of the world Lies like a burden, which thou neither canst Nor wishest to cast from thee. If thy hands, Like Moses' weary grown, begin to droop, Faith and her sister Love are at thy side Keady to bear them up. Thou hast concerns That press upon thy feelings painfully. Thy little child is at the gates of death. The agonies that rack its little frame, The pale and awful forerunners of death, Each hour thou clearer mark'st. couldst thou take Its sufferings on thyself ! Come with thy heart 124 SATURDAY NIGHT. Thus bleeding, in thy Saviour's breast already Compassion moves, and sympathies Even stronger than thine own. Yes, He will hear And answer thy requests. Thou ask'st what's best For thy beloved, He what is best will give, Or life to glorify His name on earth, Or from all earthly ills release by death. But who can tell what nearest to thy soul Lies in desire ? Thou know'st and feel'st it best, And also knowest in whose ear to speak Thy every want. But 'tis the night before The Sabbath morn ; when that morn grows to day, Then shall the heralds' steps who bring good news Be seen upon the mountains. At the call Of their uplifted trumpets I behold Crowding assemblies meet. Hark how the praise Swells up to heaven from all the sanctuaries Of earth ! 'Tis the entreating voice of prayer. The gospel is proclaimed by zealous men To thousands of our race, in many tongues. Now mark the thoughtful worshippers drink in The holy sounds, and how intent they look On all the mighty acts of Jesus Christ, In his humiliation, sufferings, death, SATURDAY NIGHT. 125 Entombment, resurrection. Charge thy heart With many cares, and pour it out in prayer, Earnest, that must be heard, that the Holy Spirit May with the word descend into the souls Of thousands, tens of thousands, that the day Of Pentecost each Sabbath be renewed. that the earth were once again restored To harmony with heaven ; that all its shores, And merchandise, and arts, and towered towns, And hamlets, all its people, men of toil, Its statesmen, orators, philosophers, Were wedded to the fear of God, and lived Beneath the cloud of fire. One day it shall Be so, and more than so. Doubt not the power Of Him who is its Saviour to effect His purpose, in despite of Hell and all Kebellious powers 'gainst it in league combined, They are but creatures, the Creator he. Behold — and lovely is the sight, it thrills The soul to the centre ; it comes like a gale From spicy garden through the wilderness. Behold, in many lands, the men who love Our great Bedeemer on their knees this night ; Are not their hearts united? Hear their prayers 126 SATURDAY NIGHT. Gro up for blessing on the preached word ; And some of them, like him who all the night Wrestled in Penuel with the Angel strong, Will struggle with that Angel till He yield. So if thou canst devote from thy pursuits An hour each evening ere the Sabbath dawn To prayer and meditation, use it well For thine own good, and with the company Of them who fear the Lord in every land, In blest communion join of supplication, That power and glory from on high may go Forth with the gospel preached ; then shalt thou be A benefactor true of the human race ; Thou shalt not live in vain either for God Or for thyself, or for thy kindred dear. THE TEMPTATION IN THE WILDERNESS. 127 THE TEMPTATION IN THE WILDEKNESS. Our Champion in the wilderness behold, Now wandering on the shaggy mountain's side. Now seated on the cliffs, which storms of old Have reft, and lightnings ploughed with gashes wide, Now musing in the cavern's gloomy shade, Which beams of summer sunshine ne'er invade. Death -like seclusion ! Here the face of man Is never seen, nor heard the silver gush Of his sweet speech, the drooping soul which can Kevive so potently. The deep still hush Of noon falls heavy on the mind, it lies A life oppressing weight on earth and skies. Lovely is morning bathed in sparkling dew, Kinging with songs from every happy grove ; Noon, borne on floods of light, is glorious too, And gleams that slowly o'er the mountains move : Night is sublime when she her gates unbars, And leads us through her hosts of fire- winged stars. 128 THE TEMPTATION IN THE WILDERNESS. Each form, each change is beautiful, sublime, With sweet companionship of man to share Emotion's genial glow, without it time Drags cumb'rously, and all things irksome are : Denied exchange of thought and sympathy We languish would in heaven itself, and die. Behold Him through the desert to and fro Wander, in meditation wrapt, and prayer; The crested snakes their ancient hate forego, The lions, harmless, mark Him from their lair, Or in their dens couch, overawed with fear, When in their savage haunts His steps appear. How changed each circumstance ! the majesty Of His celestial splendours thrown aside ; Clothed in our nature's wants and poverty ; Omnipotence to impotence allied ! To Him the stars that pave His courts become, As unto us, the glory spangled dome. May we without irreverence draw near And seek Thy thoughts, Thou Holy One, to read, Who our redemption didst account so dear As thus to stoop so low Thy sacred head, The thoughts that through Thy musing spirit pass'd Whilst these long days and nights of watching last? THE TEMPTATION IN THE WILDERNESS. 129 Before Him still in awful prospect lies, And presses on His mind with anguish sore, The toils immense of that vast enterprise Which to achieve He touched our sinful shore; Dread prospect dark'ning on His mind by day, And stealing all the night His rest away. An ocean blown with storms that never cease ; A midnight gladden 'd by no cheerful beam ; An agony whose horrors still increase ; Hours endless as eternity that seem ; Moments of woe ! what terrors fill you all, And crush into your cup the bitt'rest gall. Closing the dismal perspective appear, Dreadful and prominent, the cross of pain, The crown of thorns, the legionary's spear, Hell's malice, in Heaven's wrath the victim slain ; Soul-with'ring thought ! awful reality! His Father's frown, 'neath which He needs must die ! His Father's frown ! can it ever be, That even in seeming for a moment's space The eternal smile withdrawn from Him can be ? And vengeance darken on that Father's face ? Forbear ! — Before Him in dread vision lies Each pang of the mysterious enterprise. 130 THE TEMPTATION IN THE WILDERNESS. See, then, with reverence, the Man of woe Sunk 'neath His brooding thoughts' oppressive weight, Or if a ray of joy illume His brow, And for a moment soothes His anguish great, If a swift passing smile a moment light That countenance so sad and deadly white, 'Tis in anticipation of the scene, Ah far remote, but, thanks to God, secure, That shall infold in happiness serene His ransomed, for whose sakes swift to endure All suffering He is. Betwixt that goal And Him what oceans of confusion roll ! How shall we e'er forgive our hearts of stone, So little melted by our Saviour's woe, Who for our sinful sakes has meekly gone Down through the vexed abyss where sorrows flow? Around Him now the thick'ning tempests meet, Their plunging waves against Him sorely beat. — Thus Satan — " When He grown to man was born, I 6aw o'er Bethlehem's field that vision bright, Whose splendours shamed the golden torch of morn, And swallowed darkness in celestial light ; Incensed I heard the message spoken then Of my power overthrown, of peace to men. THE TEMPTATION IN THE WILDERNESS. 131 " Heard of the Babe who in the manger lay The future might proclaimed, and how must wane The empire reared by me on earth each day Till it in ruins crumble, by a reign Displaced of light and love ; that haughty boast Much to my mind perplexed of care has cost. " Nor can I free my thoughts that Heaven intends G-reat things — if so its power may match its will — To be achieved by Him whom it defends, Thus far in safety, 'gainst my sleepless skill ; A thousand snares and deaths He has escaped, To compass His destruction wisely shaped. " All is confirmed by that so lately done On Jordan's banks, when my eternal Foe Proclaimed Him loud and openly His Son. — But ere on earth my empire I forego, Ere Hell's supreme dominion far and wide I cease through all His starry worlds to spread, " Ere to Him and His Son I bow this knee In homage, by destruction's gulf I swear — My witness heaven and earth and chaos be, The oath of my resolved purpose hear — My being first shall cease." — The Tempter spoke Enraged, and into fierce defiance broke. 132 THE TEMPTATION IN THE WILDERNESS. Whilst thus his wrath he vented, and defied The Highest, dark'ning nature with his frown, His wings he folded from his voyage wide, And on a pine-clad mountain lighted down In midst of the lone desert, and with speed Assumed a hermit's form and russet weed ; A hoary ancient from the world retired, To spend his few last years in solitude ; A venerable aspect, which inspired Esteem, so seeming reverent and good ; A voice whose sifted wisdom in bland speech Swift entrance to the guileless heart can reach. And so transformed he soon the Saviour found In a thick brake, faint and exhausted now From His long fast, stretched on the thorny ground, With hollow cheek and pale care-furrowed brow ; His mind absorbed in holy musing, still Meekly observant of His Father's will. He felt, as the arch-enemy drew near, A thrill of righteous indignation rise Like sudden fire, as His keen glances peer Into the fiend through all his deep disguise. Satan had fled o'erwhelmed, but in His breast His holy ire our meekest Lord suppressed. THE TEMPTATION IN THE WILDERNESS. 133 " Strange unto me it seems to find Thee here," The Devil his deceitful speech thus wove, " Thee whom the voice from heaven pronounced most clear The Son of the Eternal Father's love ; For at Thy baptism, amongst the crowd, I on the banks of famous Jordan stood, " Marking the scene which thunderstruck each eye, When heaven her crystal portals opened wide, And streams of radiance from the upper sky Kushed, whilst the sun his meaner rays did hide ; And from the midst, around Thy honoured head, Dove-like the Spirit His mild pinions spread. " 111 seems it to befit that Father's care, Whose bounteous hands o'er all His works extend, Who feeds the tuneful tenants of the air, That sing all day, and ne'er to labour bend, Who clothes the flowers with their ethereal bloom, And breathes into the rose its sweet perfume ; " The seraphim, that tremble as they gaze, Adoring reverently His awful power, Are all by Him upheld ; and in the blaze Of noon, the film-winged insects of an hour Partake of His great love — alone from Thee His fostering goodness seems withdrawn to be ; 134 THE TEMPTATION IN THE WILDERNESS. " Which in Thy breast might well insinuate Some doubt if Thou art not by Him forsaken, Imprisoned in this region desolate, And at the point of death by want o'ertaken. His Son beloved, excluded from the care The meanest of His creatures daily share ! " Likelier Thy heavenly Father stands aloof, And hems Thee round with this necessity, That of Thy Sonship Thou may'st fetch a proof, Some miracle performing to supply Thy needs. Know, then, the season, and fulfil The intimations of His sovereign will. " For if Thou art His Son essay Thy power ; Power unexerted is an empty boast, Nor better is than weakness ; fit the hour ; Let not, through diffidence, the hour be lost. Command, and let these stones, transformed to bread, Kedeem Thy life in this Thy hour of need." — " 'Man shall not live by bread alone,' and that Thou knowest, though car'st not to remember now : What food had Moses, when with God he sat Full forty days on Sinai's awful brow ? The Tishbite kept like fast, when from the wratli Of man he trod the desert's howling path. THE TEMPTATION IN THE WILDERNESS. 135 " When God ordains it so, each holy word That from His mouth proceeds to man shall be Food, and divinest nourishment afford, Eearing him up to immortality. In Him who brought me hither I confide ; All needful things His goodness will provide. " Besides, if thou believ'st me whom thou say'st, Why venture in my presence ? Whence this care Of me, thou hat'st and fearest ? When thou lay'st, Think not success shall crown so crude a snare?" — Whilst Christ thus spake the Tempter rankled sore, Yet on his looks well feigned complacence wore. Well feigned, but with an effort, conscious now He must exert, or fail, his utmost power, . Taught, mortified, the contrast vast to know 'Twixt this assault and that in Eden's bower. Such virtue in Christ's seeming weakness lies To thread his wiles, unmask his treacheries. What words can paint the horrid thought his guile Devises next? who dream Hell's arrogance Could swell so high, as plot by its damned wile To move from G-od our Champion's confidence ? And with presumption fill that sacred breast, Where nought but humblest, meekest virtues rest ? 136 THE TEMPTATION IN THE WILDERNESS. Wall knew the fiend, by long experience taught. How man's weak nature hastens to extremes, And in the tossings of unbalanced thought Now burns in hell, now in heaven's glory seems Enfranchised ; cunningly he sought to find In Christ some taint of mortal passion blind. Full of his purpose, by permitted power, He bears Him up through the ethereal clime, And poises steep upon a giddy tower Of the great temple ; from the height sublime, Like silver tissues Kedron's windings gleam, And dusky specks his olive gardens seem. And thus he shaped his speech — " In God Thy trust, Holy, submissive, childlike, I admire, With reverential mind. All my mistrust Is gone. Thou art the Son of that dread Sire. Pardon my overbold experiment To prove Thee truly that great Son intent. " For much it all concerns the same to know, Since many to that honour have presumed, Impostors bold ; whilst many a fatal blow, Alas ! their wretched followers has consumed. God's own Son now revealed, let earth rejoice ! Strength 's in His arm ; salvation in His voice ! THE TEMPTATION IN THE WILDERNESS. 137 " Men shall be bless'd in Thee, and blest art Thou, Secure for ever of Thy Father's love. All beings share His love, but chiefly Thou ; All potencies in earth and heaven above Attend Thee everywhere, Thy life to guard, Subdue each foe, each lurking danger ward. " What holy myriads throng the heavenly state Of powers sublime, and truth has given the word They ever must on all Thy goings wait, And minister to Thee, ordained their Lord. service enviable ! Hosts of light, This service is your joy's supremest height ! " This knowest Thou in Thy mind, though hitherto From proving it by deed Thou hast refrained, And by such abstinence Thou seem'st to do Dishonour unto Him who thus ordained ; As if at nought the mighty boon was prized ; By use alone can it be recognised. " That as G-od speaks, declare Thy confidence, So Thou believ'st; from this cloud-neighb'ring height Cast Thyself headlong, lo ! for Thy defence Already gleam around the pinions bright Of seraphim, too proud to form a chair To bear Thee softly through the astonished air." — 138 THE TEMPTATION IN THE WILDERNESS. Again His countenance our Saviour turned Full on the wily fiend ; with stedfast look Pierced each dark corner of his heart, that burned With rankest hate beneath the stern rebuke. Then in few words — " When duty points the way Through dang'rous paths, and promptly men obey, " Using with zeal each help the reverend fear Of God and sober prudence give in vain, Then may the Lord in majesty appear, Bind up the storms, divide the angry main, Throw wide the prison doors, innocuous make The flames, his venom from the serpent take. " But rash the man, and with presumption blind He rushes on a spear who sets at nought What reason dictates, bolst'ring his vain mind On miracles that never shall be wrought. Thoufetchest scripture. Knowestthou where the word Is written plain — c Tempt not, man, thy Lord?' ' Twice baffled. Next fond recollections rose Of proud Ambition's power o'er noble minds ; He thought how wisest counsels she o'erthrows, And gives maturest maxims to the winds. Disguised in Honour's name, what ruins vast In her dire train through every land have pass'd ! THE TEMPTATION IN THE WILDERNESS. 139 Can he without a burning pang recal The fatal hour, the sad occasion when He and his legions hastened to their fall From pride's steep summit ? 'Mongst the sons of men His readiest entrance this to noblest hearts, Drawn to perdition by his devilish arts. Our Lord he to a mountain has conveyed, His cone advancing almost into heaven, The subject world they from that perch surveyed, From Jordan's stream to the far Granges even ; Far o'er the deep the mighty realms that lie Couched dim on its remotest boundary- Was ever scene beheld by mortal sight Of such magnificence, to wrap the soul In ecstasies of wonder and delight ? The prospect stretches on from pole to pole, Whatever clime the sun's far darting ray Visits, somewhere in the vast landscape lay. Here Commerce trafficked on a thousand floods ; There Art arose and comely structures reared; Music stormed heaven ; while in laborious mood Strong hundred-handed Industry appeared. Gowned senators, absorbed in high debate, Weighed questions deep, and great affairs of state. 140 THE TEMPTATION IN THE WILDERNESS. War thinned the maddened nations, whilst he blew His clarion, midst the sword dance seas of blood Deluged the fields, when straight swift-pinioned flew Fair Peace, and wooed him where begrimmed he stood, Arms stronger than his own around him flung, And soothed his frenzy with her dulcet tongue. Winter was seen upon his frozen chair, Whilst northern meteors round his temples played ; His icy storms he hurled into the air, His mace the heavings of the ocean stayed : Spring through another part, went singing on, Flowers round her head and in her garments shone. Summer, bright fav'rite of the sun, matured The fruits and grains of nature's bounty born ; Brown Autumn, to his healthy toil inured, Laughed as his sickle reaped the waving corn ; All lands, with all men work beneath the sun, In the proud prospect to the life were shewn. Satan, exulting in the skill whereby He fetched them all within the vision's scope, Felt for a moment his misgivings fly, And stood elated on the peak of hope ; In subtlest rhetoric his speech arrayed, Whilst his last grand assault on Christ he made. THE TEMPTATION IN THE WILDERNESS. 141 " If noble purposes inflame Thy mind To found a kingdom which may lift her head Above all empires, ample scope may'st find In this vast amplitude around us spread ; And all is Thine, only Thou shalt receive The gift from me, to me the homage give." He spoke, and stood expectant, but knew not The holy indignation his proud word Kindled in Jesus' bosom, nor how hot Burned then the zealous anger of our Lord ; With what disgust He loathed the horrid snare To make Him thus the devil's worshipper. His eye on the deceiver flashed with scorn. Unmasked, its ken he hastens to evade, His power and malice utterly o'erborne ; His hopes, to empty ashes crumbling, fade ; These words midst his confusion pierce his ear — " Worship the Lord thy God, Him only shalt thou fear." In his own form, drawn from his thin disguise, Even to himself detestable he stood ; Straight his broad wings, upon the shrinking skies Spread sudden, sounded like a rushing flood, As he drew near Hell to her centre shook, And her dark realms a darker horror took. 142 THE BEATITUDES. THE BEATITUDES. The world shall hear divine morality, The Saviour loosens now his holy speech, His seat a mountain summit bold and high ; Above, their canopy the blue heavens stretch ; The charmed winds are breathless now, they cease To sport with the white clouds, or stir the flowers ; The birds suspend their songs in their green bowers, And all the air is hushed in perfect peace. Mighty the multitude assembled round ; Jerusalem, emptied, sends her thousands there; Towered Jericho is silent, crowds abound From famed Samaria, with her gardens fair ; Sun-burn'd, from distant Galilee are seen The hardy race who ply the sail and oar On her blue lake, whose city studded shore Is still as it the Sabbath morn had been. THE BEATITUDES. 143 The learned scribe, the formal Pharisee, The Sadducee, cold sceptic ; weak and strong ; The rich, the poor ; of high and low degree ; Mothers and children, swell the countless throng. Such crowds continually His steps attend, To see the marv'llous works He daily wrought, Hear His discourse with heavenly wisdom fraught — In mute attention now they forward bend. He who in the Olympian grove would claim A statue, and the olive garland wear, Be given by Pindar to immortal fame, Be homeward borne 'midst trumpet's festive blare, Must in the Stadium task his utmost powers. — But who celestial guerdons shall receive, And honoured in the heavenly kingdom live, With glory crowned in its unrivall'd bowers ; These, with their discipline, and holy care, The graces they pursue with ardour strong, His lips, who spake as ne'er spake man, declare, With all the virtues that to them belong ; Virtues ! unlike those deeds that, with acclaim, The world pursues. foolish world, to slight, For Sodom's apples that yield no delight, The blest beatitudes from heaven that came ! 144 THE BEATITUDES. that our ears were open to receive, Our hearts, Thy holy words to entertain, Most gracious Lord ! Thy bless'd assistance give To drink them in as thirsty soil the rain ! Of our ungenial hearts prepare the field, The showers bestow, give the propitious sun ; Begin Thy work, watch o'er Thy work begun ; Then shall our lives a golden harvest yield ! — " Blessed the poor in spirit," those who know, Taught from above, their total emptiness ; That in their breasts no holy thoughts can grow, No strength spring up from their own feebleness : The purity of Grod still in their view Darkens their guilt, shines burning on their sin, That loathsome plague, that leprosy within, That midnight softened by no orient hue. Themselves abhorring, 'gainst themselves they fight, Fearing themselves, against themselves they pray; On wings of faith to mercy's arms take flight, As the dove hastens on a stormy day Swift to her cot : they seek with earnest mind, Self-diffident, their watchful course to keep By the bright lamps of heaven hung o'er the deep; In heart and purpose to their God resigned. THE BEATITUDES. 145 Happy, indeed ! yours a diviner prize Than e'er enriched Ambition's grandest dream ; Laid up secure within the peaceful skies ; Ye from the earth can see its holy gleam ; Thus oft the storm-heat mariner to cheer A vision forms itself, upon the air, Of the halm-breathing isles, and regions fair, To which thro' the vexed floods their ship they steer. — " Blessed are they who mourn," whose eyes are red With weeping rivers o'er their grievous sin ; Not that their tears, in such profusion shed, Can cleanse the lep'rous stain, or pardon win; Mercy's sweet voice oft to have met with scorn, With base ingratitude their Father's love! — G-rieves them — " Hard hearts," — they cry — " that would not move " — And so all day and all the night they mourn. By the glad ministries of Spring serene Grim Winter's havoc in the sylvan bowers Eepaired, with joyful eyes we oft have seen; She weaves an emerald robe of sun and showers ; The purple violet, the primrose pale, She skilfully embroiders in the grass; Hangs every spray with blossoms ; as they pass The roving winds sweet essences inhale. 146 THE BEATITUDES. The tender leaves burst from their silken sheathes ; For wand'ring birds delightful bowers are deckt ; Her gay festoons the honeysuckle wreathes From bough to bough, where pearled dews reflect The blush of morning from their crystal eyes; Whilst burnished insects on their gauzy wings G-lance o'er the stream through the quiet glade that sings; And all the scene golden in sunshine lies. And sweet as Spring, into the mourner's heart, Calm, silent, with celestial influence, The holy Paraclete his beams doth dart, Heals every wound, and purges every sense; Nor only with his balm allays each pain, But adds the peace of heaven; a cabinet The soul becomes with precious jewels set, A heaven in miniature, where Christ doth reign. — The haughty mind obtains the world's applause, The meek are trampled by the bustling throng, Yet blest are they to whom, by heaven's just laws, The true dominions of the earth belong! All things they see in truth's unflatt'ring light. In every common gift, on them bestowed, They see the hand, adore the love of God ; Hence every comfort yields its true delight. THE BEATITUDES. 147 Thus, in his cottage, at his humble meal, His daily labour for his daily bread, More independence the meek man can feel Than scapegrace worldlings fortune nurs'd and fed. For man the true nobility of soul Is meekness; there his realest grandeur lies. This is the wing that lifts him to the skies; Pride and ambition in the dust but roll. The stars from deepest pits are brightest seeD, The river's sweep is noblest in the vale, The shade of rocks the modest flowerlets screen, When tempests on proud heights the oaks assail; Humility shields man from many a blow; The lark, upon the ground that builds her home, Mounts up, and warbles through the azure dome ; They highest soar in faith whose thoughts are low. Humility becomes us, as we are Creatures; as sinful creatures, better still; The humblest are the greatest everywhere ; None are so humble as the saints that fill Heaven's regal courts — the nearer to the throne The humbler: docile is Humility, And it is given to her meek eyes to see Celestial wonders to the proud unshewn.— 148 THE BEATITUDES. There is a fountain whose lip overflows, Where yet the soul can never drink her fill; A loaded table, but who to it goes And feasts, and ever feasts, he starveth still; A market glutted with, abundance rare, All that e'er pleasure flashed upon the sight, Love, wine, gold, kingdoms, piled to mountain's height; Get all, and yet no blessing settles there. foolish people, then, who plough the seas And sift the rocks of foreign lands for gold, Who range through every danger, seeking ease, Found nowhere if your hearts it do not hold ; folly, so to toil those things to win From which no true solacement ye receive, With which you must shake hands, for ever leave Outside the grave when it ye enter in. But blessed they who feel their soul's distress, Its poverty, its guilt, its misery; Who long, by day and night, for righteousness, And till they find ne'er satisfied can be: Your hunger shall be fed, your thirst allay'd ! happy, happy, I behold you stand Unchallengeable, with the heavenly band, In the white garments of the saints array'd ! THE BEATITUDES. 149 Peace ye enjoy on earth, and your abode Shall be the treasure fraught celestial dome, A tranquil dwelling in the house of God, When Christ your Lord shall come to call you home, To give you joys that ever shall endure, Lead you each day in the calm mead that lies Embosomed far within the peaceful skies, Beside the living streams and fountains pure. — " Blessed the merciful, for they shall find Mercy." — A seraph's rapture and his wing, An eye as clear as morn, a burning mind, He much requires, who would of mercy sing A fitting strain. He must ascend the sky, Drink at the fountain-head of that pure stream, Upspringing glorious in the heart of Him, The great " I Am:" the sacred Majesty: Whose mercy is the uncreated source Of being, and of being's every bliss. Should mercy fail, behold all things perforce Bush headlong into ruin's dark abyss. The sun shines by His mercy, the green earth Teems with her riches manifold ; no bound Above, below, to mercy can be found ; O'er death she watches — she presides o'er birth. 150 THE BEATITUDES. Unsearchable for ever are the ways Of mercy, and ineffable to man ; Transcending all his impotent essays, As does the infinite a little span : Baffled in thought, with holy awe adore Her surest pledge, and pluck the choicest fruit That ever sprung, or could, from mercy's root, Even Him who stands our wond'ring eyes before, In mortal flesh, and to men's sons declares These high beatitudes from heaven come down. Such blessings for the apostate God prepares. Making our guilt and misery His own, Our holy Saviour dies upon the tree, Washes in His own blood our sins away, Expires, all that we owe the law to pay, And wins us peace by His own agony. Haste, then, and seize on mercy! firmly hope, Securely trust. Mercy can never die : New life thou shalt experience ; she shall ope The fountains of thy heart to sympathy With all distress and woes of every shade, With earnest prayers, and with an open hand Swift wilt thou ever be to run and stand Amongst the wretched, bringing needful aid. THE BEATITUDES. 151 Behold the drop of dew that glitt'ring lies Upon the verdant blade, your eye shall see The image of the orb that fills the skies With splendour in it shadowed gloriously, But soon he draws it up to his own sphere. Even so the merciful reflect the Sun Of righteousness ; to them heaven is begun ; In them to Christ His likeness is so dear. Mark how the merciful haste to forego Bevenge, where stern revenge is strictly due ; With steps of eager love their deadly foe Through all the coils of mischief they pursue, Kindness still heaping on the head of hate, With soothing speeches baffling haughty scorn, Even as the night is ever met by morn With rosy greetings at the eastern gate. To angel visiting the earth, the sheen Of all its pomps and pageantries, the pride Of all its towers and palaces, how mean ! Impotent they to turn his glance aside In admiration. But to his pure eyes How great the works of mercy, light sublime Ling'ring amongst the wretched wrecks of time, Keminding him of his own native skies. — 152 THE BEATITUDES. " Blessed the pure in heart." They shall behold The face of God unveiled, with sweet delight. — But how shall we, of Adam's sinful mould, Be pure, save looking on that perfect light Of spotless purity, our Saviour's face ? Gazing thereon, in love, may we draw light Into our hearts, as the dark orbs of night From the great sun, that may our stains efface ! may that holy face aye on us shine So sweetly, and with such attraction strong Fix us intent upon its beams divine, That we, absorb'd, no more may hear the throng Of worldly tumults ; nor the wanton train Of Pleasure passing with her brav'ry by, In floating robes, and loose voluptuous eye, Eager, and skill'd, unwatchful souls to gain. If pure in heart, a man may safely walk Through snares of darkness, by that inward light. Though weak it seems, yet has it strength to baulk, And break, a hundred foemen in the fight. It has a look so awful, a regard So dread to every evil, thought or done, Even the great foe of God and man would shun, Kather than court with it the contest hard. — THE BEATITUDES. 153 " Blessed the peacemakers," in heaven proclaimed G-od's children. Honourable badge, and true, For surely they are children rightly named, Who do whate'er they see their Father do. And G-od th' Almighty maker is of peace, At such a ransom, too, for sinful men ! Proclaim them, therefore, bless'd, with tongue and pen, Who o'er the world would send her mild increase. — " Blessed are ye when men shall persecute, Falsely revile, and curse, for Jesus' sake," And aim you wholly from the earth to root : With hearts unruffled all their malice take. — But what a scene arises ! groans and cries Of anguish : torments, desolation, fire, Scaffolds, and stakes where multitudes expire, Hunted to death, in quiv'ring agonies. Through every age the scream of anguish rings. If here the sword is sheathed, and, gloated, dies The pile, there it is fleshed, there, kindling, springs With keener flames on a fresh sacrifice. Nature is horrified. But gliding down Serene from heaven, Faith sees the dazzling team That whirls them up, and hands, amidst a gleam Of glory, reaching them th' immortal crown. 154 THE RAISING FROM THE DEAD OF THE THE KAISING FEOM THE DEAD OF THE WIDOW OF NAIN'S SON. Sad was the scene in Nain, the little town, In the poor widow's house, where pining lay Her only son, by sickness smitten down, Languishing weaker, weaker, every day; His life a summer brooklet by the ray Of the fierce sun consumed, a channel dry, Where once the waters gushed melodiously. 'Tis not the dismal picture of her woes, Her lonely mansion's desolation drear, The awful solitude round her to close When that last life is quenched, sole link so near To being snapped, which in affection dear Binds her to earth, which unto her has been A vale of tears indeed, a sadly troubled scene. Herself she could forget, herself forgets, But ah to look on the afflicted's pain ! WIDOW of nain's son. 155 The sweat of anguish on his 'brow, the sets Of fainting, the strong efforts to restrain Sunk nature's sigh, and unfelt vigour feign To save a mother's heart another wound, Alas, already crushed by sorrow to the ground. The sympathizing neighbours at her door Assemble, speak kind words, and go away; And sweet is sympathy to rich or poor, Ah, could it charm the parting breath to stay; From the stern spoiler Death redeem the prey. Poor woman ! he has drawn his latest breath : Oft seeming dead before, this time 'tis death. Hope has departed with the precious life That flickered on the exhausted wick so long ; Ah, who can blame thee that thy tears are rife ? Thy wail of sorrow passionate and strong ? Not to the sympathies of man belong The skill to medicate a wound like thine, Into so sad heart make beams of comfort shine. To the dead warbler what avails the rise Of morn, with songs in every leafy bower ? Brooks in a dream to him of thirst who dies ? Dews dropping fragrance to a withered flower ? 156 THE RAISING FROM THE DEAD OF THE Can earthly joys affdrd a happy hour To her whose total wealth and treasure all Is that pale wasted corpse laid out for burial ? Discordant now, and harsh, to her appears The bustle of the town, that ceases not Its usual stir : in thoroughfares their fears, Their hopes, men speak not saddened by her lot ; Light hearts pass by the door; and many a note Of laughter, where the merrymakers meet, Kings sharp with all the sounds that fill the busy street. The funeral day arrives, the grave must have Its spoil ; to that dark and sad resting place The slow procession moves, a sable wave ; Tears dim each eye and sorrow every face ; With reverence all to that sad train give place ; All pity that chief mourner, dumb with woe, "Who walketh next the bier with feeble steps and slow. The city gate is pass'd, the roadside trees Checker with light and shade the mournful pall. As, gently shaken by the sultry breeze, The sunbeams through their emerald partings fall : How like man's life ! how fitted to recall That short sojourn in grief and joy begun, Which in alternate waves thro' all its windings run. WIDOW of nain's son. 157 But propitious day, propitious hour ! For now they meet upon the dusty road Him who to sympathy unites the power Omnipotent, Immanuel, Son of God And son of man, who came to bear our load Of guilt, to cleanse the lep'rous plague of sin, Whence all the crowding ills of mortal life begin. He knows the widow's case, already swells His heart with pity ; in His moist'ning eye The tears already start ; in thought He dwells On all the sad and ceaseless misery He came to remedy; He draweth nigh, The man of sorrows, unto whom in vain The sorrow laden mourner never did complain. He toucheth with His hand the funeral bier; He speaks — " Young man, I bid thee to arise" — The sealed up sense of death is forced to hear, Which else had slumbered till the last assize ; Upon the light the sleeper opes his eyes ; Himself he raised ; again began to beat His heart, his cheek to glow with life's returning heat. An agony of grief the mother felt, And now she feels an agony of joy, The tears in rivers flowed as down she knelt 158 THE RAISING OF THE DEAD, ETC. In gratitude, the Saviour of her boy Adoring, worship pure without alloy Of insincerity, yet half afraid Unreal the mighty fact that her so joyful made. Fear seizes on the crowd, a holy awe Invades each mind. Whoever with his eyes Beheld at man's command stern death withdraw His hand, and from his realms the captive rise ? May all that throng of wonderers recognize The Saviour of the world, and Him receive, Who can from death, and worse, their sinful souls relieve ! Lately Published, Fcap 8vo, cl. limp, Price 9d., SABBATH SCENES AND MEDITATIONS. BY REV. JOHN C. FAIRBAIRN. ALLANTON. OPINIONS OF THE PRESS. " We can sincerely recommend this production as a specimen of pleasing, vigorous, and genuine poetry, on a theme that never ceases to be interesting. Every line in the poem is consecrated to lofty principle and holy feeling. The appeals on behalf of the day of rest often rise to great animation, and peal on the ear as with the voice of a trumpet, whilst anon the author, touching another string of his lyre, thrills as with a strain of deep pathos. For the sake of the good principle as well as the good poetry in the book, we trust that it will make its way into extensive cir- culation." — Eeformed Presbyterian Magazine, May 1859. " ' Sabbath Scenes and Meditations' is a name happily chosen, and is truly descriptive of this small but very beautiful and attrac- tive volume. In full remembrance and never failing enjoyment of the notes that have been struck in honour of the Sabbath, by Vaughan, and Herbert, and Grahame, each in his own exquisite way, we welcome Mr Fairbairn from his Berwickshire Manse as no unworthy partner in the sacred choir. — Mr Fairbairn has learned ' the open secret' revealed by nature to the eye of all her observant children. To him familiarity with her scenes brings increasing foudness and heart content. Hence many pas- sages of exquisite description scattered through the volume, at once imparting and receiving a tone of sober cheerfulness in beautiful harmony with the subject of his verse." — Ayr Advertiser, 23d June 1859. " The little volume before us is an example of tine poetry on a religious theme. It is profoundly embued with the spirit of its subject, and in handling it we have many fine descriptions of nature, as well as thoughtful musings on the ' Sabbath Calm' and its associated scenes. Mr Fairbairn has evidently a heart for his theme, as well as the power to give measured utterance to his thoughts. The descriptions of the Eural Sabbath, &c, &c, are all given with a strong and graphic yet graceful pen, and in a measure which steals irresistibly into the heart."— Magazine of the United Presbyterian Church, July 1859. " A series of beautiful pictures, descriptive of the hallowed influ- ences of the day of rest. Most cordially do we recommend Mr Fairbairn's ' Scenes and Meditations' to all our readers. Somewhat different in .style, but not inferior in talent and execution to the blank verse of Grahame, we are sure that Mr Fairbairn's contri- bution to the poetical literature of the Sabbath, whether it obtain it or not, deserves a celebrity as wide." — Some and Foreign Be- cord of the Free Church of Scotland, August 1859. " Mr Fairbairn's contributions to our sacred poetry we have repeatedly read with real pleasure ; and though his work is small in compass, we consider him well entitled to an honourable place among the brotherhood of the sacred lyre, of which he wakes the strings with no unskilled or feeble hand. His thoughts, and language, and figures, are his own ; and, with a genial glow of poetic fervour, there is a vividness of colouring, and no little graphic power, displayed in the scenes and characters he portrays. His diction is expressive and dignified ; his images always appro- priate, often striking, with frequent fine turns of thought and ex- pression." — Witness, 29th August 1859. " — Drawing his'inspiration from heaven, his song ascends to the fountain of his genius. He has the divine gift, and with that he celebrates the praises of the Divine Giver. — The ' Sabbath Scenes' sketched in Mr Fairbairn's Poem are of a high character. He looks at nature with a poet's eye, and delineates our Scottish Sabbath Scenery with a pencil that dashes out the large outlines, and tints beautifully the great features of things visible ; or touches their minuter details with a graphic and delicate power. Through- out the ' Meditations' there breathes a refined spirit of love, and faith, and hope. In reading them you are carried away up out of the cares and concerns of this life, into the higher region of holy thought and solemn musing. — In publishing his little work, Mr Fairbairn has done good service to the religious public ; and we are confident that all who love truth, sincerity, and godliness, clothed in the shining array of chaste and poetical ornament, will not fail to approve and reward the hallowed diligence and conse- crated genius of the author." — Dunfermline Press, 22d Sep., 1859. EDINBURGH: ANDREW ELLIOT. LONDON: HAMILTON, ADAMS, & CO.