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 THE LIBRARY 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES
 
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 POETICAL 
 
 EFFUSIONS. 
 
 A YOUNG LADY, 
 
 " A virgin muse, 
 " That wakes her lyre to some indulgent theme." 
 
 BATH : 
 
 PRINTED AND SOLD BY S. BENNETT, 20, WESTGATE-STREET ; 
 SOLD ALSO BY BINNS, CHEAP-STREET. 
 
 1824.
 
 
 TO THE 
 
 \ REV. ADAM CLARKE, LL.D. F.A.S. 
 
 ^ WITH 
 
 FE^mNGS OF ADMIRATION FOR HIS GREAT LITERARY ATTAINMENTS, 
 
 \ 
 
 tf 
 
 AND 
 
 VENERATION FOR HIS UNWEARIED ASSIDUITY 
 
 IN THE CAUSE OF PURE AND UNDEFILED RELIGION, 
 
 w EFFUSIONS 
 
 
 THESE SIMPLE 
 
 N ^ 
 
 ©f a putf)ful fHtise, 
 
 ^ ARE HUMBLY INSCRIBED, WITH PERMISSION, 
 
 BY 
 
 •V 
 
 THE AUTHOR. 
 
 f\. 
 
 | 


 
 PREFACE. 
 
 These juvenile productions would 
 never have met the public eye, but for the 
 earnest importunities of several partial 
 friends, and for the sanguine hope that the 
 sale of this little volume might augment 
 the pecuniary resources of a widowed and 
 invalid mother. 
 
 The Writer is conscious that the fol- 
 lowing pieces will elicit no commendation 
 from the reader who seeks for proof of in- 
 tellect only; neither will they afford grati- 
 fication to the refined poet; nevertheless, 
 the Christian mind, that is characterized as 
 condescending to " men of low estate," and 
 whose prerogative it is to trace beauty and 
 discern cause for gratitude and adoration, 
 even in those " weak things which God
 
 6 PREFACE. 
 
 hath chosen to bring to nought things that 
 are mighty," may discover, in these little 
 compositions, the operations of His spirit, 
 who, out of the mouths of babes, notunfre- 
 quently, perfects his praise. 
 
 Many of the following poems were 
 written by the Author, at the very early age 
 of Fourteen Years; and, though affording 
 ample scope for revision and correction, 
 they are now presented in nearly their origi- 
 nal form ; whilst the principal part of those 
 that bear a more recent date, was penned 
 during a season of protracted bodily afflic- 
 tion, and within the precincts of a sick 
 chamber. These considerations, the Wri- 
 ter trusts, will ensure the kind indulgence 
 of those who may honour this volume with 
 their perusal. 
 
 Bath, February, 1821.
 
 ttonttttt** 
 
 Page 
 
 On Hearing the sound of Distant Bells 11 
 
 Ode on the Sabbath 14 
 
 Lines addressed to my Mother, on her Birth-Day . - . . 16 
 Lines on receiving a Nosegay of Wild Flowers from my 
 
 Brothers •• 18 
 
 Fugitive Stanzas .. •• .. .. .. .. 19 
 
 Lines addressed and presented to her late Majesty, Queen 
 
 Charlotte, during her visit to Bath . . . . • • 23 
 Lines addressed to the Author of " David Dreadnought," 
 
 on receiving from him a copy of his Poetical Works . . 27 
 
 Lines addressed to a Widower .. .. •• .. 30 
 
 Ode on the Death of an Infant 32 
 
 Thoughts on New- Year's Day • • 34 
 
 An irregular Ode, written at the close of the Evening . . 37 
 
 Lines written on leaving Clifton . . . . . . . . 38 
 
 Lines written on a Blank Leaf of my Bible . . . . 41 
 
 Monody on the Death of Miss W • • . . 45 
 
 A Sacramental Hymn • • 48
 
 8 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 On Healing the Bells proclaiming the Hour for Divine 
 
 Worship .. .. .. 50 
 
 On the Sabbath 52 
 
 Epithalamium, affectionately addressed to my dear Maria, 
 
 on her Nuptial Day . • 54 
 
 The Babe of Bethlehem GO 
 
 On Woman 63 
 
 Lines to my Sister, on the Anniversary of her Birth-Day 67 
 
 An Exercise of the Soul 70 
 
 Stanzas on the Primrose . . . . • . . . . . 74 
 
 Lyrical Verses 78 
 
 Reflections .. .. •• .. .. .. .. 79 
 
 Lines addressed to a Friend, on his Birth-Day . . . . 81 
 
 Hymn 85 
 
 Lines written in a Season of much Heaviness . . . . 87 
 
 Effusions to a Friend, on her Birth-Day • • . . • • 90 
 Monody written on the first Anniversary of my beloved 
 
 Father's Death . . . . . . 94 
 
 Nocturnal Reflections, written under bodily Suffering . . 102 
 
 Lines addressed to a Brother, on his Birth-Day . . . . 105 
 
 Lines written on the Close of the Year .. .. •• 109
 
 POETICAL EFFUSIONS.
 
 POETICAL EFFUSIONS 
 
 ON HEARING THE SOUND OF DISTANT 
 
 BELLS. 
 
 -List to yon village bells! how sweet they sound! 
 
 Making the hills and vallies to resound, 
 
 With notes that please and much delight the ear, 
 
 Now seeming distant, then advancing near, 
 
 The passing zephyr swells each tuneful note : 
 
 Anon they die — and gentle murmurs float 
 
 Upon my mind, which soar my soul above, 
 
 Lead me to think of God's unbounded love, 
 
 Make me desire to hear the notes divine, 
 
 And hail the day when I the world resign. 
 
 September, 1815. 
 n 2
 
 12 POETICAL EFFUSIONS. 
 
 ODE 
 
 ON MY FATHER'S BIRTHDAY. 
 
 This day's arriv'd — affection guide ray pen, 
 To sing the praises of the best of men — 
 A father dear — affection once more cries, 
 This is his natal day — he's good and wise. 
 My father, can thy daughter tune her lay 
 To tell thy tenderness from day to day ? 
 I cannot half my love to thee express 
 In these few simple lines, that I address 
 To thee, my father, best of human kind, 
 Who doth unbend and form my opening mind. 
 My father, shall thy hopes be lost on me? 
 No ! w ith obeisance I will bend my knee
 
 POETICAL EFFUSIONS. 13 
 
 Before th' Almighty throne: for grace I'll pray, 
 To strengthen wisdom in me every day ; 
 If Heaven prolongs my life, what will I prove? 
 I hope a child of duty and of love. 
 Dear parent, I will soothe thy ev'ry care, 
 And show my tenderness whilst thou art here ; 
 And when the tyrant, Death, in grim array, 
 Shall come to call from hence thy soul away, 
 Oh! then what comfort can I find below? 
 The comfort will be, that tby soul doth flow 
 Through streams of love, rich in eternal grace, 
 And singing hymns before thy Saviour's face; 
 Enjoying regions which are quite unknown 
 To mortal man: then let me cease to mourn. 
 The eye of faith thus looks on things to come, 
 And Resignation cries " thy will be done."
 
 14 POETTCAL EFFUSIONS. 
 
 But oh! my father's life, Preserver, spare, 
 And I with hymns will meet each happy year. 
 
 Dear father, now my lines are at an end, 
 And let the critic censure or commend, 
 These are the pure effusions of my mind, 
 And speak the feelings that my heart design'd. 
 
 January, 1815. 
 
 ODE 
 
 ON THE SABUATH. 
 
 There is a day that brings much joy, 
 'Like to the king and peasant's boy, — 
 A day of peace without alloy, — 
 
 The Sabbath.
 
 POETICAL EFFUSIONS. 15 
 
 The beasts they rest from stripe and blow, 
 And with mankind they seem to know 
 What blessed comforts ever flow 
 
 Upon The Sabbath. 
 The birds they lly on freedom's wing, 
 And offer up a cheerful hymn : 
 No sportsman's near to-day, they sing, 
 
 This is The Sabbath. 
 The savage has a day of rest, 
 He knows there's One that's always best : 
 Come, Christians, haste, your God address, 
 
 Now on The Sabbath. 
 Then may we all more cheerful go, 
 To learn our duty here below, 
 And hope to reap the fruit we sow, 
 
 An endless Sabbath,
 
 16 POETICAL EFFUSIONS. 
 
 LINES 
 
 ADDRESSED TO MY MOTHER, ON HER BIRTHDAY, OCT. 24th. 1815- 
 
 Dear mother, this thy natal day, 
 
 How many years have wing'd away, 
 
 Since the bright auspicious morn 
 
 Gave one birth, that doth adorn 
 
 The world, as mother, wife, and friend, 
 
 To whom your heart you may unbend. 
 
 With kindest sympathy she takes a part 
 
 In ev'ry sorrow that o'erhangs the heart. 
 
 Indulgent mother and angelic wife, 
 
 May virtue guide, and God prolong thy life: 
 
 Sweet mother, may those tender eyes long shine, 
 
 And cv'ry sacred heartfelt joy be thine.
 
 POETICAL EFFUSIONS. 17 
 
 Come, sister dear, and brothers kind, rejoice! 
 This is our mother's natal day, rejoice! 
 May all of us here dwell in peace and love, 
 And fully taste of purer joys above; 
 May we oft hail this day with joyful hearts, 
 Till haggard Death our earthly meeting parts; 
 Then, with the prospects of eternal joy 
 And pleasures lasting, that will never cloy, 
 We'll join th' angelic host and things divine, 
 Leave this sad world, and all its cares resign, 
 Escape to worlds of bliss, where friends re-meet, 
 And sing loud anthems at our Saviour's feet.
 
 18 POETICAL EFFUSIONS. 
 
 LINES 
 
 ON RECEIVING A NOSEGAY OF WILD FLOWERS FROM MY BROTHERS. 
 
 My dearest boys, the nosegay I approve 
 
 Because it is a token of your love ; 
 
 For me you kindly pluck'd the wildest flowers. 
 
 That nature, full of bounty, on us showers ; 
 
 Th' anemone, you cull'd it with delight, 
 
 And early cowslip greeted then your sight; 
 
 The fragrant violet, hair-bell white and blue, 
 
 The gaudy buttercup you gather'd too; 
 
 But, mark these flowers ! how soon they all decay, 
 
 They're wither'd now, though flourishing to-day: 
 
 Just so, my dears, will beauty quickly fly, 
 
 And you, just like these flow'rs, must quickly die ;
 
 POETICAL EFFUSIONS. 19 
 
 Then seize the present time, before you fade, 
 Learn goodness, ere within the tomb you're laid, 
 That when you're call'd from hence to soar above, 
 You may enjoy and reap a Saviour's love. 
 
 FUGITIVE STANZAS. 
 
 1. 
 
 Life's transitory scenes are lost, 
 
 When contemplation comes: 
 My thoughts on different themes are tost, 
 
 To heaven my spirit roams. 
 
 2. 
 
 May I in bower and lonely grove, 
 Think of the world to come;
 
 20 POETICAL EFFUSIONS. 
 
 Let all that 's transient from me rove, 
 And I be hast'ning home. 
 
 3. 
 
 Tho' here on earth sweet Nature's given 
 
 A universal charm, 
 Yet what is this, compar'd to heaven, 
 
 The land without alarm. 
 
 Jesus, my Saviour, points the way, 
 
 And folds me in his arms, 
 And leads me to the realms of day 
 
 And bright celestial charms.
 
 POETICAL EFFUSIONS. 21 
 
 A THUNDER STORM, 
 
 WITH THE STORY OF OLIVIA INTRODUCED. 
 
 The low'ring clouds portend a direful storm, 
 The trees all shake and Nature feels alarm! 
 Upon my ear no gentle murm'rings float, 
 The little songsters cease to tune a note, 
 No freshening zephyrs fan the labourer's toil, 
 But intense heat, which scorches dry the soil; 
 Large drops now fall and awful thunders roll, 
 And forked lightnings play from pole to pole: 
 Now poor Olivia, a lone peasant child, 
 Is galh'ring flow'rets o'er the craggy wild, 
 Her parents both are dead, no friend ha? she 
 To drop on her the tear of sympathy:
 
 22 POETICAL EFFUSIONS. 
 
 They who once view'd Olivia with delight 
 Are snatch'd for ever from the orphan's sight; 
 But ere they bade adieu to care and pain, 
 And found departure their eternal gain, 
 Olivia's mind they had enrich'd with truth, 
 And nurtur'd her to seek the God of youth ; 
 Thus, in this dreadful hour, Olivia feels 
 Faith in her God, and piously she kneels. 
 The peals of thunder now they rend the air, 
 And the poor sinner trembles with despair. 
 In such a tempest warriors stand aghast, 
 E'en the brave seaman thinks it is his last. 
 The storm roars loud, the peasant lifts her eyes, 
 And thus she prays to Him who rides the skies : 
 ' Omnipotent! who guardeth all from harm, 
 ' Whose power it is to calm, or rage the storm;
 
 POETICAL EFFUSIONS. 23 
 
 " Whose power it is to still the foaming seas, 
 " Father Almighty ! on my hended knees, 
 " Thy prompt protection, Lord! I do implore, 
 " To keep me safe in this impending hour." 
 The storm ahates — her Maker lends his ear 
 To poor Olivia's pious, fervent prayer. 
 
 LINES 
 
 ADDRESSED AND PRESENTED TO HER LATE MAJESTY, QUEEN 
 CHARLOTTE, DURING HER VISIT TO BATH. 
 
 Accept, great Charlotte! amiable and mild, 
 These simple lines, the tribute of a child: 
 Ah ! could my tongue such lofty strains rehearse, 
 As beam'd in Pope and Milton's sacred verse ;
 
 24 POETICAL EFFUSIONS. 
 
 Or like a Cowper, sweetly slide along, 
 And please my hearers with harmonious song ; 
 Then would T, in true poesy, take flight, 
 And paint thy virtues in their native light; 
 Tell England's people thy unsullied worth 
 And bless with them the day that gave thee birth. 
 Though, gracious queen ! I cannot tune my lyre 
 To strains of sweet and true poetic fire, 
 Yet my poor muse will aim to sing thy praise, 
 And speak her feelings, in these simple lays. 
 All hail ! beloved queen of Britain's isle, 
 Uathonians now shall hail thee with a smile; 
 Fair Nature! too, be cloth'd in ev'ry grace, 
 And let bright charms pervade thy lovely face; 
 Join with our Charlotte's subjects to be gay, 
 And cast awhile thy wint'ry garb away.
 
 POETICAL EFFUSIONS. 25 
 
 My much lov'd Queen; it needs an abler pen 
 Than mine, to sing thy praise so due from men ; 
 But now be pleas'd my heartfelt wish to hear, 
 And Heaven, kind Heaven, accept my fervent prayer: 
 May convalescency to thee ensue, 
 And blest Hygeia breathe on thee anew ; 
 Thy each declining year may bliss attend, 
 And smiling peace with downy wings descend; 
 Still happy in thyself and all around, 
 With sweet domestic love thy head be crown'd ; 
 If e'er substantial bliss is found below, 
 May'st thou it taste — this life's a scene of woe, 
 And vain's my wish, true joy dwells not on earth, 
 'Tis with the angel throng it has its birth — 
 'Tis in th' etherial home the soul's at rest, 
 And finds a pillow on her Maker's breast. 
 c
 
 20 POETICAL EFFUSIONS. 
 
 Charlotte, 'tis there thy virtues will be known, 
 
 Where an impartial Saviour claims his own; 
 
 To Him, when earth you leave, Oh ! may you soar, 
 
 And rest for ever on that peaceful shore. 
 
 And now my Queen, a few more notes I'll sing, 
 
 Respecting George, thy consort and our King. 
 
 His rcver'd worth shall ever be confest, 
 
 And his lov'd image fill each tender breast. 
 
 When he shall droop in death, he still must live 
 
 In memory — 'tis all we have to give : 
 
 Heav'n grant him patience to endure its rod, 
 
 And fix his hopes on ease at last with God ! 
 
 Then may your gentle souls together fly, 
 
 And dwell in love through all eternity.
 
 POETICAL EFFUSIONS. 27 
 
 LINES 
 
 ADDRESSED TO THE AUTHOR OF " DAVID DREADNOUGHT," ON RECEIVING 
 FROM HIM A COPY OF HIS POETICAL WORKS. 
 
 Hail, Whitchurch! hail! the muses' favor'd bard ! 
 My simple theme of gratitude regard ; 
 Receive my thanks, from sources pure they flow, 
 This lowly verse I trust their truth will shew. 
 My muse can't soar, in unison with thine, 
 To paint the prospect of each foreign clime ; 
 To sing of perils o'er, or things to come, 
 Or what heroic actions men have done; 
 Yet with a grateful heart I tune my lyre, 
 To thank thee for thy energetic fire. 
 I need not say with what delight I scan 
 O'er ev'ry line which paints the life of man ; 
 c 2
 
 28 POETICAL EFFUSIONS. 
 
 O'er each bright page wherein is strictly given 
 
 The only road to happiness and heaven. 
 
 Your Dreadnought first appears with heart of stone, 
 
 Callous to ev'ry tenderness, and prone 
 
 To sinful mirth, and blasphemy of tongue, 
 
 Inclin'd to join the careless impious throng ; • 
 
 But onward you peruse, and soon you find 
 
 That God enlighten'd Dreadnought's harden'd mind: 
 
 Thus do we see, the man that once was sin, 
 
 Virtue in actions — godliness within. 
 
 Thou sublime bard! thy lines such truths impart, 
 
 That thrill with ecstacy the feeling heart, 
 
 Inspire the youthful mind with heavenly love, 
 
 And lift the aged to the realms above. 
 
 Respected Whitchurch ! when thy body's laid 
 
 'Neath the green sod, and nature's debt be paid,
 
 POETICAL EFFUSIONS. 29 
 
 Thy works shall live as long as ages roll, 
 To he an emblem of thy pious soul; 
 And when this fleeting world shall be no more, 
 And earthly prospects — earthly things be o'er ; 
 When to the dead the summons shall be given, 
 To quit the grave and meet the Judge of heaven ; 
 Then, rever'd Whitchurch ! shall thy deeds be known, 
 And all thy pious labours God will own ; 
 The angel throng will meet thee in thy way 
 To heaven, and lead thee to the realms of day, 
 Where with the ransom'd, shall thy soul, so blest, 
 Enjoy her sacred — her eternal rest.
 
 30 POETICAL EFFUSIONS. 
 
 LINES 
 
 ADDRESSED TO A WIDOWEH. 
 
 Ah! who is he that sits with haggard eye? 
 Why does he grieve, and heave the bitter sigh? 
 It is because his Eliz'beth is fled, 
 And her lov'd body mingled with the dead : 
 A flow'r she was, just in its finest bloom ; 
 That tyrant, Death, hath cut her off too soon. 
 'Tis not too soon, the cherub angels say, 
 Her soul is wanted in the realms of day ; 
 She's much too good, to dwell on earth below, 
 On eager wing, she must now with us go 
 To those blest skies, where peace for ever reigns, 
 And there to be rclcas'd from all her pains.
 
 POETICAL EFFUSIONS. 31 
 
 Inconsolate of men, then ease thy mind, 
 To cherish, teach, and oh! " be ever kind, 
 To the sweet pledge that she has left behind ;"* 
 May'st thou a mother and a father be, 
 And in this babe its mother's image see; 
 Then calm thy grief, since thou'rt not left alone- 
 Still there's an object left, tho' one is flown. 
 Belov'd she was by all who knew her worth, 
 Her face was deck'd with smiles of youthful mirth, 
 But she had charms beyond what beauty claim'd, 
 For virtue bright, and goodness, she was fam'd ; 
 A mother's feelings hardly had she known, 
 Before her spirit fled to skies her own : 
 She left this world, to taste of one above, 
 Where there is nought but purity and love. 
 
 * Shaw's Mouody on the Death of a Young Lady.
 
 32 POETICAL EFFUSIONS. 
 
 Let these reflections dry the mourner's tears; 
 And when a few more swiftly rolling years 
 Have sped their flight, re-union shall be given, 
 And you with her be glorified in heaven. 
 
 ODE 
 
 ON THE DEATH OF AN INFANT. 
 
 Ye sacred nine ! begin a doleful lay ; 
 Ye little birds! that hop from spray to spray ; 
 Ye tuneful songsters ! now begin your song, 
 And round the grave of sweet Eliza throng : 
 Let all confess the infant's pleasing smile, 
 Replete with innocence and free from guile : 
 Her little ways much pleasure did impart,
 
 POETICAL EFFUSIONS. 33 
 
 For whils't they pleas'd the eye, they won the heart. 
 Content, with beaming goodness, grae'd her face, 
 Angelic sweetness ever kept its place ; 
 Yet all these charms could not resist the blow 
 Of cruel Death — kind Heav'n wou'd have it so, 
 That this sweet child should to the throne ascend, 
 Where joy and pleasure reign without an end. 
 Sleep on in peace, dear babe, thy soul's at rest, 
 No longer pains disturb thy tender breast; 
 Thy infant agonies and pangs are o'er, 
 Thy cry of anguish now is heard no more; 
 Parents below no longer view thy charms, 
 A heav'nly Parent clasps thee in his arms; 
 Thy life, so short, seem'd only to be given 
 To taste of death, then wing its course to heaven. 
 Angel companions watch'd around thy bed
 
 34 POETICAL EFFUSIONS. 
 
 To take thy soul, soon as from earth it fled; 
 To shout thee welcome to the blest abode, 
 Where all are glorified and fill'd with God. 
 
 1816. 
 
 THOUGHTS ON NEW- YEAR'S DAY. 
 
 My muse arise with contemplative lay, 
 Assist me now to sing of New-Year's Day ; 
 "With serious thought let me review the past, 
 And think the latter year may be my last; 
 Tho' now, in health, I rise to greet this day, 
 That nought avails — 1 may be call'd away: 
 Before a twelvemonth's rapid course is fled, 
 I may be mingl'd with the silent dead.
 
 POETICAL EFFUSIONS. 35 
 
 With mind intent, the year just past I'll scan, 
 And mark the changes in the life of man. 
 First vig'rous youth, then age, I've seen decay, 
 Since the last opening morn of New-Year's Day. 
 Some may suppose that youth is too robust 
 To quit this stage of life and sleep in dust; 
 But Death discharges arrows every hour, — 
 The rich and poor are subject to his power. 
 Grim tyrant! all must feel thy pow'rful sway, 
 The good, the bad, the indifferent, and gay ; 
 Fresh troubles open at each year's return, 
 Uncertain quite is life — it makes us mourn, 
 Some friends we've lost, or circumstances chang'd; 
 Or plans quite blasted, which were just arranged 
 For future happiness ; or joys complete, 
 Which llattcr'd us with every bliss replete.
 
 30 POETICAL EFFUSIONS. 
 
 Such is the state of things — man may repine, 
 
 But with reflection God's decrees will shine ; 
 
 He hest doth know the guidance of our fate, 
 
 Who watches over us in every state. 
 
 Then since his wakeful providence is nigh, 
 
 This following year I will on him rely ; 
 
 I'll cast my soul hefore th' Almighty's throne, 
 
 My least of troubles he will not disown. 
 
 Now, Oh! my God ! accept my humble prayer, 
 
 Teach me thy name to praise throughout the year; 
 
 Pity my failings, and Oh! give me rest, 
 
 Let me a pillow find upon thy breast; 
 
 When sin shall tempt me, may my soul take rise, 
 
 And seek its refuge in the starry skies ; 
 
 Be thou thyself my guide and constant friend ; 
 
 Father omnipotent! Oh! condescend
 
 POETICAL EFFUSIONS. 37 
 
 To watch o'er me with thy parental care ; 
 Each hour, each day, my soul, my mind prepare 
 For that great summons which I must obey ; 
 T henlet thy angels guide me in the way 
 To bliss — my disembodied spirit then invest 
 With spotless robes of purity and rest. 
 
 AN IRREGULAR ODE. 
 
 [WRITTEN AT THE CLOSE OF THE EVENING.] 
 
 Yonder, westward, sinks the sun! 
 Now its glorious course is done ; 
 Retires to cheer another land, 
 Obedient to its God's command ;
 
 38 POETICAL EFFUSIONS. 
 
 The varied clouds delight mine eye, 
 Clad in robes of scarlet dye ; 
 Prolific nature smiles around, 
 The staff of life bedecks the ground ; 
 The birds begin their vesper song, 
 And nature rests the insect throng ; 
 Each hill and vale assume a gloom, 
 
 And wait the coming of the moon. 
 
 LINES 
 
 WRITTEN ON LEAVING CLIFTON. 
 
 Clifton, adieu ! thy flow'ry heaths farewell ! 
 Thy rocky heights and every pleasing dell !
 
 POETICAL EFFUSIONS. 39 
 
 Thy pond'rous fragments o'er the glassy stream, 
 Fit subject for the lofty poet's theme ; 
 Thy vast variety, thy wide stretch'd wood, 
 That forms a barrier to the liquid flood ; 
 The dizzy summits, deck'd with hare-bell blue, 
 With diamond lustre in the morning dew; 
 Thy awful scenes, still grander when the sun 
 Hasdisappear'd, and task assign'd has done, 
 When Cynthia, with her far more lovely light, 
 Rob'd with majestic softness, hails the night, 
 Her radiance mild usurps the azure sky, 
 And tips the landscape with her silver dye ; 
 'Tis by her beams I wander with delight, 
 And view amaz'd, the wond'rous skill and might 
 Of nature's God, the vast, th' Almighty hand 
 That form'd the briny deep and rising land ;
 
 40 POETICAL EFFUSIONS. 
 
 Who out of chaos laid so grand a plan, 
 And made creation's lord, poor sinful man ; 
 That mark'd each planet's course in ambient air, 
 And gave the distant satellites to wear, 
 That they, tho' distant from the sun, may roll 
 Tn native light, their own from pole to pole. 
 These are my thoughts, to see such wonders given, 
 And lift my soul in ecstacies to Heaven. 
 Clifton, once more, farewell ! with charms replete, 
 I leave thy heights to seek a lov'd retreat ; 
 Sweet Woodland shades ! to me for ever dear, 
 I now return to court your balmy air ; 
 Cliftonian scenes, the boon I ask'd denied, 
 And blest Hygeia breath'd her balm aside ; 
 But now, my God ! who sits enthron'd above, 
 Restore my health, to praise thy care and love.
 
 POETICAL EFFUSIONS. 41 
 
 Banish my pains, renew my wasting frame, 
 And let me live to celebrate thy name ; 
 But if it be thy will for me to stand 
 Under the mild affliction of thy hand, 
 Oh! give me patience to endure thy rod, 
 And gently breathe, "This is the hand of God." 
 
 August, 1818. 
 
 LINES 
 
 WRITTEN ON THE BLANK LEAF OF MY BIBLE. 
 1. 
 
 What a rich banquet have I here ! 
 Such a sweet feast, that drives out fear 
 Of sin, of hell, of death;
 
 42 POETICAL EFFUSIONS. 
 
 Affords my soul a joyful treat, 
 Points the glad way to mercy's seat. 
 And cheers my fleeting breath. 
 
 2. 
 
 These oracles are God's indeed. 
 What other comfort do I need, 
 
 In this short vale of grief? 
 'Tis here I ken my endless rest, 
 And hang by faith on Jesus' breast, 
 
 And find a sweet relief. 
 
 3. 
 
 Here holy precepts form the wise, 
 And fit the sinner for the skies, 
 Where purest joy is found ;
 
 POETICAL EFFUSIONS. 43 
 
 Shew the poor pilgrim where to tread, 
 And lead him o'er the rugged bed, 
 Where many thorns abound. 
 
 Oh ! grant me grace, my God ! to see, 
 In every line that treats of Thee, 
 
 The only way to heaven ; 
 Oh! fill me with thy precious love, 
 And may I faithfully improve 
 
 The talent thou hast given. 
 
 5. 
 
 Be this my chart, my constant friend, 
 Until my pilgrimage I end, 
 Until mine eyes I close; 
 D 2
 
 44 POETICAL EFFUSIONS. 
 
 And when about to yield my breath, 
 Hide from mine eyes the sting of deatb, 
 And wrap me in repose. 
 
 6. 
 
 Then may I hear the choirs say, 
 Sister be free, and haste away 
 
 To join th' angelic throng ; 
 Emancipate thyself from earth ! 
 Come where true happiness gives birth 
 
 To hallelujah's song. 
 
 1818.
 
 POETICAL EFFUSIONS. 45 
 
 iMONODY 
 
 ON THE DEATH OF MISS W- 
 
 Descend my muse, and aid my tale of woe; 
 
 In sorrowing numbers bid my verses flow. 
 
 To notes of grief my plaintive harp I'll string, 
 
 And yet each note must joyfully bring 
 
 Some virtuous trait of her I now deplore, 
 
 Tho' death has snatch'd her, and she's here no more. 
 
 But my weak pow'rs, in prison clay confin'd, 
 
 Prevent me painting justly her fair mind ; 
 
 S hut from my sight her sum of heavenly joy, 
 
 Where sickness ceases and no cares annoy, 
 
 Lead me to wish my pilgrimage wero o'er : 
 
 When I enraptur'd gain that happy shore,
 
 46 POETICAL EFFUSIONS. 
 
 Then may I view her bliss, — for 'tis not given 
 To mortal man to tell the joys of heaven. 
 But let me, sainted Anne, confine my view 
 To earth, and tell how all thy virtues grew, 
 Nurtur'd beneath a father's care, who trod 
 In the bright paths that lead to bliss and God ; 
 Whose spirit mounted (tir'd of earth) on high, 
 First to behold the pure ethereal sky, 
 And to secure in paradise a seat 
 For his lov'd daughter, in the bless'd retreat 
 "Where is rewarded all her good below, 
 That beam'd alike on either friend or foe. 
 Yes, Anne, thy prompt humanity, thy zeal 
 Fled to distress, and made the mother feel,* 
 
 * Alluding to Miss W.'s being the Assistant Secretary of the Society 
 for the Relief of Lying-in Women.
 
 POETICAL EFFUSIONS. 47 
 
 In nature's throes, thy wonted kind relief, 
 
 A balmy drop in her sad cup of grief; 
 
 But most conspicuous shone that love of thine, 
 
 So like thy father, in the things divine; 
 
 Patient in life, in death now sweetly blest, 
 
 Supremely happy in eternal rest. 
 
 Sisters attend ! review her useful life, 
 
 Mark her sweet exit, free from care and strife ; 
 
 Copy her purity, her virtues learn, 
 
 Drop tears of joy — ye have no cause to mourn; 
 
 A dulcet requiem chant, in strains of love, 
 
 And claim, like her, a rich reward above. 
 
 Refin'd from earth, beatitude's her gain, 
 
 Affliction's lost,— disrob'd are care and pain. 
 
 1818.
 
 4ft POETICAL EFFUSIONS. 
 
 A SACRAMENTAL HYMN. 
 
 1. 
 
 Thy table, oh my God ! is spread 
 To cheer each honour'd guest ; 
 
 Here we partake the precious bread, 
 And take the pledge of rest. 
 
 2. 
 
 Thy body and thy blood we see 
 At this sweet feast of thine. 
 
 Prior to thy suffVings on the tree, 
 Thou said'st, This supper's mine: 
 
 3. 
 
 Thou said'st, As often as ye meet 
 Around my sacred board,
 
 POETICAL EFFUSIONS. 49 
 
 Remember me and all my grief; 
 Think of your dying Lord! 
 
 Shall we the invitation fly, 
 
 When Christ himself invites ? 
 Shall we, by not approaching nigh, 
 
 Lose the most dear delights? 
 
 5. 
 
 No ! my great Saviour, we will go 
 
 To this repast of love, 
 Where grace in plenteous streams does flow, 
 
 Where food is from above. 
 
 6. 
 
 Here we will drink immortal wine, 
 The riches of thy blood,
 
 50 POETICAL EFFUSIONS. 
 
 And kindred souls shall with us join, 
 To keep the feast of God. 
 
 If here on earth such pure delight, 
 
 To sinful man be given; 
 What raptures will the saints of light 
 
 Enjoy with Christ in heaven. 
 
 1819. 
 
 ON HEARING THE BELLS PROCLAIMING 
 THE HOUR FOR DIVINE WORSHIP. 
 
 Sweetly sounds the Sabbath bell! 
 Echoing through the wood and dell ; 
 Bids the christian haste to pray, 
 And due observe the Sabbath day :
 
 POETICAL EFFUSIONS. 51 
 
 But, oh, I mourn to think that I 
 Cannot obey this minstrelsy ; 
 For sickness now denies a seat 
 In the dear choir of God's retreat: 
 Through pale disease, I cannot raise 
 A public altar, fraught with praise; 
 Yet private off 'rings shall ascend, 
 And hymns of praise my soul shall blend ; 
 My ev'ry wish I would resign, 
 And have no will but that of thine, 
 Who rul'st the armies of the sky, 
 And stoop'st to hear the suppliant's cry. 
 
 Southampton, 1818.
 
 , r >2 POETICAL EFFUSIONS. 
 
 ON THE SABBATH. 
 
 Welcome, sweet day ! of day's the best, 
 
 Giving the weary pilgrim rest ; 
 
 That whils't he's journeying thro' this waste, 
 
 He may of gospel riches taste. 
 
 Tir'd of the six days' care and woe, 
 
 With joy he treads the courts below ; 
 
 Tbere, wrapt in praise, his soul ascends, 
 
 With homage deep his knee he bends ; 
 
 With tear-fraught eye his God is blest, 
 
 And thank'd for this sweet day of rest. 
 
 The man of God turns o'er the page 
 
 Of sacred record, to assuage
 
 POETICAL EFFUSIONS. 53 
 
 The grief of every tempted mind, 
 
 By pointing out a Saviour kind ; 
 
 Grace flows around, the theme of ev'ry tongue, 
 
 And Heav n alights on all the christian throng; 
 
 Redeeming love illumes each raptur'd breast, 
 
 And all confess the day of hallow'd rest ; 
 
 The organ's peal is sweetly rais'd, 
 
 And God the Father, Son, is prais'd ; 
 
 All in one concert loudly sing 
 
 Immortal praises to their King. 
 
 I fain would join this praise divine, 
 
 And in the chorus mingle mine ; 
 
 But, oh ! I cannot, for my God 
 
 Afflicts me with his tender rod ; 
 
 My tenement is shook with pain, 
 
 And day and night do I complain,
 
 54 POETICAL EFFUSIONS. 
 
 And to my great Physician cry, 
 Oh ! ease my pains, or else I die ; 
 But all impatience, Lord, restrain, 
 Support my weak and trembling frame j 
 Comfort my soul with thy sweet love 
 And meeten me for bliss above. 
 
 EPITHALAMIUM, 
 
 AFFECTIONATELY ADDRESSED TO MY DEAR MARIA, ON HER 
 
 NUPTIAL DAY. 
 
 Accept, dear girl, on this thy nuptial day, 
 
 A friend's effusions, and affection's lay ; 
 
 It is not mine to boast poetic fire, 
 
 Else strains of sweetness should adorn my lyre;
 
 POETICAL EFFUSIONS. 55 
 
 No chaplet wreath is wove to grace my muse, 
 Tho' pregnant spring doth ev'ry charm diffuse ; 
 For my aspirings can no merit claim, 
 Yet, dear Maria, by that tender name, 
 Let me conjure you to accept my theme, 
 And on these lines one look of pleasure beam ; 
 For rest assur'd, these wishes thrill my heart, 
 That you and happiness may never part. 
 Nature, I now invoke thee to be gay, 
 And greet with smiles this joyous blissful day ; 
 Ye charming meads, array'd in blooming pride, 
 Exhale your fragrance to the lov'ly bride ; 
 Ye warbling minstrels of the Woodland vale, 
 Pour your sweet notes upon the passing gale ; 
 Ye flow'ry tribes ! your richest odours fling, 
 And crown this morn with all the bloom of spring ;
 
 66 POETICAL EFFUSIONS. 
 
 Felicitas, with Suada, now descend, 
 And hand in hand your softest influence blend, 
 To scatter roses on the holy vow, 
 And thro' revolving years, oh ! may they grow 
 With few attendants of the wounding thorn ; 
 Let their bright fairness ev'ry care disarm. 
 I do not mean a gay ephemeral flower, 
 Whose beauties sully with the passing hour ; 
 But the sweet rose of love, that never dies, 
 That blooms in life, and even death defies ; 
 That with its fragrance leaves a long perfume, 
 And grows immortal o'er the silent tomb : 
 This, this I ask for you from bounteous Heaven, 
 For hallow'd love's an antepast of heaven. 
 May you through life ne'er know contending strife, 
 But be the loving and the much-lov'd wife;
 
 POETICAL EFFUSIONS. 57 
 
 III the bright paths of virtue may you go 
 Through life serenely, whether weal or woe, 
 Repose on Heaven, breathe forth the fervent prayer, 
 The God of love divine will lend his ear. 
 In this terrene abode we roam for joy, 
 And grasp with eagerness the empty toy, 
 Disgust succeeds, we find no bliss is given 
 Uelow, save in the things that fit for heaven ; 
 Only religion can secure us rest, 
 And give to earth's enjoyments keener zest; 
 The sweets of piety extend to death, 
 Its hopes support and calm the dying breath ; 
 Secure the soul above an endless treat, 
 A banquet spread at a Redeemer's feet. 
 Domestic bliss religion will attend, 
 And be its constant and its zealous friend ; 
 E
 
 f>8 POETICAL EFFUSIONS. 
 
 To hands united, give congenial souls; 
 Then every season, rapid as it rolls, 
 Will heighten love and soft connubial bliss, 
 The tender welcome, and the sacred kiss. 
 These are the joys religion's sure to give, 
 To bid us love, not loving cease to live. 
 If e'er 'tis thine to feel a mother's cares, 
 If e'er 'tis thine to know her hopes and fears t 
 If e'er thy breast heave with maternal love, 
 Oh ! train thy cherub for the realms above. 
 Dig deep the soil, expunge the choking weed, 
 And in its place infuse the holy seed. 
 Let mild persuasion be thy potent rod, 
 To form it lovely in the sight of God. 
 With sweet solicitude direct its youth, 
 And counsel it to hunger after truth,
 
 POETICAL EFFUSIONS. 59 
 
 That as 'tis thine by laws of nature given, 
 
 Uy laws of grace, it may be Christ's in heaven. 
 
 This is a day of day's momentous time, 
 
 From henceforth may each bliss of life be thine; 
 
 A tender husband's love, his softest smile, 
 
 Thy joys to heighten and thy ills beguile, 
 
 A scene of sweet uninterrupted love, 
 
 A happy life— a crown of bliss above. 
 
 Of this glad day may'st thou, my dearest girl, 
 
 Have blest returns — Maria, fare thee well I 
 
 181!). 
 
 E 2
 
 60 POETICAL EFFUSIONS. 
 
 THE BABE OF BETHLEHEM. 
 
 Come now, my soul, and sit and sing, 
 And every sorrow from thee fling, 
 To chant the praises of thy King, 
 
 The Babe of Bethlehem. 
 Come bend thy pow'rs in sweet belief; 
 Be banish'd every sense of grief; 
 Expand thy wings, thy Lord to greet, 
 
 The Babe of Bethlehem. 
 Blest Christmas, hail ! thy sacred time 
 I love, for then from David's line, 
 There sprang a brilliant light divine, 
 
 The Babe of Bethlehem.
 
 POETICAL EFFUSIONS. 61 
 
 'Twas this sweet season, when the babe, 
 In spotless purity array'd, 
 Was in the lowly manger laid, 
 
 Sweet Babe of Bethlehem. 
 Was there no place to lay thy head, 
 S ave on the fragrant hay-made bed ? 
 Where God th' adoring shepherds led, 
 
 To greet the Babe of Bethlehem. 
 Ah, no ! cruel man denied to thee 
 The rights of hospitality, 
 For amid horned kine we see 
 
 The Babe of Bethlehem. 
 At thy blest birth the angels sang, 
 The heavenly portals joyous rang, 
 Salvation's day is now began, 
 
 Hail ! Babe of Bethlehem.
 
 62 POETICAL EFFUSIONS. 
 
 The angels sang to man good-will, 
 Sweet tranquil peace the earth shall fill, 
 And heaven's high arches echo still 
 
 Blest Babe of Bethlehem. 
 Think now, my soul, what bliss is bought, 
 Think what a Saviour's birth hath wrought, 
 A crown of joy that fadeth not, 
 
 Sweet Babe of Bethlehem. 
 Christians, rejoice ! dispel your gloom, 
 Past is the horror of the tomb, 
 Behold the bright Messiah's come, 
 
 The Babe of Bethlehem. 
 Bend, bend my soul! thy homage pay, 
 To keep thy Saviour's natal day, 
 But, oh ! 'thou canst not e'er repay 
 
 The Babe of Bethlehem.
 
 POETICAL EFFUSIONS. 63 
 
 For all thy works can ne'er attain 
 Admission to the heavenly plain, 
 Where peace and love triumphant reign, 
 
 Bright Babe of Bethlehem. 
 But, through his righteousness, I see 
 A blood-bought robe of white for me, 
 Which dureth through eternity ; 
 
 Hail! Babe of Bethlehem. 
 December, 1819. 
 
 ON WOMAN. 
 
 Who is that sweet and lovely friend, 
 Who can by soft endearments lend 
 Her aid, man's stubborn will to bend? 
 
 'Tis Woman.
 
 64 POETICAL EFFUSIONS. 
 
 Whose smile can snatch th' envenom'd dart 
 Of sorrow from the wounded heart, 
 And with one look bid grief depart? 
 
 Tis Woman. 
 Who doth with feeling heart attend, 
 On those whose need demands a friend, 
 And kind assistance glad doth lend? 
 
 'Tis Woman. 
 
 Who, when man heaves the bitter sigh, 
 And sorrow's trickling child is nigh, 
 Who wipes the tear from either eye? 
 
 Dear Woman. 
 Who, when affliction droops the head, 
 And earthly comforts seem as fled, 
 Who, with such love hangs o'er the bed? 
 
 'Tis Woman.
 
 POETICAL EFFUSIONS. 65 
 
 And when in pain man turns for rest, 
 He finds a pillow on her breast : 
 For who below can give him zest, 
 
 Save Woman? 
 Who humanizes all mankind? 
 Who with persuasion forms the mind 
 To all that's virtuous good and kind ? 
 
 'Tis Woman. 
 From whence springs every dear delight, 
 To feast the mind as friend and wife? 
 Who is on earth that lovely light? 
 
 Dear Woman. 
 Who, when the infant's tender age 
 Doth all the mother's thoughts engage, 
 Who can its pressing wants assuage 
 
 But Woman ?
 
 06 POETICAL EFFUSIONS. 
 
 Who views with joy the op'ning year 
 
 Of reason, to increase her care, 
 
 To teach the soul what's good and fair? 
 
 "Tis Woman. 
 And when the sweet and valued flower 
 Begins to know maternal power, 
 Who on the hud doth wisdom shower ? 
 
 'Tis Woman. 
 And after scenes of childhood cease, 
 (Those sweet unconscious hours of peace,) 
 Can there be then the least release 
 
 For Woman ? 
 Oh, no ! she still pursues her toil 
 With fervour, on her well made soil, 
 
 * 
 
 For fear her care should meet a foil. 
 
 Sweet anxious Woman.
 
 POETICAL EFFUSIONS. (57 
 
 Tis thus she blossoms thro' this life, 
 As daughter, mother, friend, and wife, 
 To heighten joy and soften strife, 
 
 Lov'd Woman. 
 
 1819. 
 
 LINES 
 
 TO MY SISTER, ON THE ANNIVERSARY OF HER BIRTH-DAY. 
 
 Eliza dear, this happy natal time 
 Demands the tribute of a sister's rhyme: 
 This earth has made ten circles round the sun, 
 Since the blest period that your life begun ; 
 Summer and winter have alternate given 
 To man, the bounties of indulgent heaven ;
 
 OB POETICAL EFFUSIONS. 
 
 Your heav'nly Father has dispens'd to you 
 The sweets of health, a bliss possess'd by few ; 
 Blessings beyond compute, cannot be told, 
 My love, you've had from God a hundred fold ; 
 Oh! 'tis a privilege of matchless worth, 
 That your great Maker, God, ordain'd your birth 
 In a fair christian land, where Gospel grows, 
 And free salvation news the soul o'erflows; 
 Where all may go and drink the living stream 
 Of Jesu's blood, which can alone redeem; 
 Then flee my sister to that fount of light, 
 Which will be pleasing- in the holy sight 
 Of great Immanuel and his glorious throng; 
 Who will instruct vou how to sinsr the sonjr 
 Of glad hosannas to the Prince of Peace, 
 Who shall, by death, your prison'd soul release,
 
 POETICAL EFFUSIONS. 09 
 
 To soar on seraph's wing th' ethereal sky, 
 Where pain must cease and tribulation die. 
 On this sweet Saviour you must e'er depend, 
 For he's your counsellor, your guide, your friend ; 
 Read his bright legacy with zeal and love, 
 And mark what bliss is in reserve above; 
 Read too, and tremble at the weight of woe, 
 Prepar'd for sinners and God's hellish foe; 
 Forsake this world, with all her gilded toys, 
 And hasten to the land that never cloys ; 
 Implore his grace to fit you for that rest, 
 A station on your dear Redeemer's breast. 
 I now conclude, my love, with prayer that you 
 May fight the fight of faith, and good pursue; 
 Sin's wages fly, which is eternal death, 
 And whilst your great Creator lends you breath,
 
 70 POETICAL EFFUSIONS. 
 
 Begin on earth the saint's enraptur'd song, 
 
 And sweeter sing when you regain the throng 
 
 Of perfect spirits in the land of light, 
 
 And mount with eager speed the wond'rous height J 
 
 With " heavenly harpers" cast your glorious crown 
 
 Before the footstool of th' Almighty's throne, 
 
 In grateful triumph your best praises tend, 
 
 And let them last for ever without end. 
 
 AN EXERCISE OF THE SOUL. 
 
 1. 
 
 My Jesus ! my Jesus ! I long 
 
 Thy fullest salvation to taste; 
 My soul, with her liveliest song, 
 
 Thy mercy, dear Lord! would embrace;
 
 POETICAL EFFUSIONS. 71 
 
 But, all! how my frailties rebel, 
 A war in my members I find, 
 Which nought but thy grace can dispel, 
 And enlighten my ignorant mind. 
 
 2. 
 When to praise thee my tongue would aspire, 
 
 How cold and how formal my strain; 
 I pray that my notes may be higher, 
 
 Theii my weakness of flesh gives me pain \ 
 Or earth with her shadows molest, 
 
 Or Satan would draw me from thee, 
 Or an idol would dwell in this breast, 
 Which, alas! I've no pow'r to flee. 
 
 3. 
 Yet, tho' I've no strength of my own r 
 My Saviour, my God, is my rock;
 
 72 POETICAL EFFUSIONS. 
 
 This Jesus, he hears every moan 
 
 That breathes from his journeying flock. 
 
 Sharp thorns may be strew'd o'er the hill 
 Which leads us to Sion's abode, 
 
 But Immanuel is with us still, 
 To soften the briary road. 
 
 4. 
 
 His Gospel, his Gospel is sweet, 
 
 To infuse in life's potion of woe; 
 We've only to follow his feet, 
 
 And to glory we surely shall go. 
 Wash'd white in the blood which was spilt 
 
 On Calvary's towering mount, 
 We shall lose every stain of our guilt, 
 
 When plung'd in this life-giving fount.
 
 POETICAL EFFUSIONS. 73 
 
 5. 
 
 My heart, be tbou broken with love, 
 
 At a subject so deep and sublime, 
 That Jesus should haste from above, 
 
 With salvation to gladden this clime ; 
 My soul, 'twas for thee that he bled, 
 
 To save thee from hell and from death ! 
 Nor the Jew, nor the Roman, he fled, 
 
 But quietly yielded his breath; 
 Now ascended he ever doth reign, 
 
 To make intercession for thee, 
 And angels his honours proclaim 
 
 Through the ages of eternity.
 
 74 POETICAL EFFUSIONS. 
 
 STANZAS 
 
 ON THE PRIMROSE. 
 
 1. 
 
 Thou beauteous tenant of the brake, 
 
 I greet with joy thy face, 
 I'll bid the rural strain awake, 
 To paint thy varied grace. 
 Queen of the flow'rets wild, thy charms I love, 
 And nigh thy fragrant scent delighted rove. 
 
 2. 
 Sweet primrose, clad in simple vest, 
 
 In neat and trim array, 
 In modesty's attire thou'rt drest, 
 And blooming still— not gay ;
 
 POETICAL EFFUSIONS. 75 
 
 Replete with beauties, yet retiring gait, 
 Breathing thy odours to the lonely brake. 
 
 3. 
 No gaudy colour in thy form, 
 
 No harsh obtrusive glare ; 
 Safely protected from the storm 
 By briar and hawthorn dear, 
 Where Philomela pours her plaintive strain, 
 To soothe the care-worn breast of grief and pain. 
 
 4. 
 Come hither, fav'rite flower, 
 
 I'll moralize on thee, 
 For quickly comes the hour, 
 When I shall no more see 
 Thy humble form— for summer's reign 
 Will bring her gay attendant train. 
 F2
 
 76 POETICAL EFFUSIONS. 
 
 5. 
 
 Come, teach my heart to flee 
 The bustle of the crowd ; 
 Come teach me true humility, 
 That shuns the vain and proud ; 
 T' avoid the thoughtless giddy maze, 
 And far diffuse my Maker's praise. 
 
 6. 
 Like thee, I would be hid 
 Far from the noisy crew, 
 And, unmolested, dwell amid 
 The soil on which I grew, 
 Diffusing od'rous sweets around, 
 And not a cumb'rer of the ground. 
 
 7. 
 Like thee, I would illume 
 The thorny path of life,
 
 POETICAL EFFUSIONS. 77 
 
 And shed a mild perfume 
 
 Through each conflicting strife; 
 I would not knowingly exalt my head, 
 But cling with fondness to my native hed. 
 
 8. 
 I would, like thee, fulfil 
 
 The kind designs of Heaven, 
 Perform the gracious will 
 Of Him who life has given; 
 Speak, whilst I live, my Jesu's praise, 
 And consecrate to him my days, 
 
 1820.
 
 78 POETICAL EFFUSIONS. 
 
 LYRICAL VERSES. 
 
 1. 
 
 Soldier of Christ, arise ! arise ! 
 
 Shake off your gloomy fears, 
 Behold, behold above the skies 
 
 A brilliant crown appears. 
 2. 
 'Tis sweetly gemm'd, and wond'rous bright, 
 
 Come, soldier! press thee on ! 
 Awake thee to behold its light, 
 
 The prize will soon be won. 
 3. 
 Have courage, then, thou warrior blest, 
 
 Thy Captain's gone before ;
 
 POETICAL EFFUSIONS. 79 
 
 For thee he claims a home of rest, 
 
 A rest on Canaan's shore. 
 4. 
 Oh, then, be bold — disdain to fear, 
 
 Since He his strength will lend, 
 And through the fight thy soul will bear 
 
 To triumph without end. 
 
 REFLECTIONS. 
 
 And did my Jesus bleed and die, 
 To save a wretch so vile as I? 
 Did cruel thorns his temples tear, 
 That mine a golden crown may wear?
 
 80 POETICAL EFFUSIONS. 
 
 Did he for me taste death and woe? 
 And did the crimson current flow 
 Adown the cross, that 1 may be 
 Sav'd from eternal misery ? 
 Yes, 'twas for me he suffer'd this, 
 To buy my soul a seat in bliss ; 
 T' appease the Father's wrath, and prove 
 The depth of his redeeming love. 
 Expand my heart, with fond desire; 
 My soul, with love be all on fire; 
 Mine eyes, o'erflow and all my days 
 Be spent in hymning sacred praise; 
 And when I drop this veil of clay, 
 I'll shout his love through endless day.
 
 POETICAL EFFUSIONS. 81 
 
 LINES 
 
 ADDRESSED TO A FRIEND, ON HIS BIRTH-DAY. 
 
 Another year is fled — Alfred attend — 
 Unite with me to bless our highest friend, 
 The God of gods, the Lord of worlds on high, 
 Who lives and reigns above yon azure sky ; 
 Whose pow'r and goodness fill unbounded space, 
 Whose footsteps mark the forest and the waste. 
 Unnumber'd blessings He to you hath given: 
 Temporal good and joyful hopes of heaven. 
 Both purchas'd for you with his precious blood, 
 The payment hallow'd by the crimson flood ; 
 Here 's matchless love! — I to his breast would soar, 
 Fall at his footstool, wonder and adore.
 
 82 POETICAL EFFUSIONS. 
 
 Come, I invite you to attune your lay, 
 And hail with songs of praise this natal day; 
 Your heart without reserve give up to God, 
 And plunge yet deeper in the cleansing flood ; 
 Take up your cross and eagerly pursue 
 The path to glory, that our Jesus drew ; 
 True, 'tis a straight and briary path to tread, 
 But then 'twas trodden by our glorious Head, 
 Who, with sweet sympathy his aid will lend, 
 And prove himself our all-sufficient friend ; 
 In his pierc'd hands he holds a glorious crown, 
 Inviting us to claim it as our own; 
 " Hasten, my bride," he says, " to claim your rest, 
 " And dry your tears upon your husband's breast." 
 And can you, Alfred, such allurements scorn, 
 And not, on this sweet Sabbath natal morn,
 
 POETICAL EFFUSIONS. 83 
 
 Enter into a cov'nant with your God, 
 
 Whose nature and whose precious name is Love ? 
 
 Yield up your hody, spirit, all your soul, 
 
 And hasten onward to the heav'nly goal ; 
 
 For time is lost in quickly rolling years, 
 
 That sweep away our sorrows and our cares ; 
 
 Eternity is hast'ning — and how soon 
 
 May be the day of day's — the gen'ral doom — 
 
 When you, and I, and all mankind must wait 
 
 To hear the Judge supreme announce our fate : 
 
 But ere that solemn day arrives, may you 
 
 Be safe enroll'd among his chosen few. 
 
 Twenty-two years you've sojourn'd here on earth, 
 
 A few past years you've known the Saviour's worth; 
 
 Long did you lie, entomb'd in nature's night, 
 
 Insensible to all surrounding light;
 
 V>4. POETICAL EFFUSIONS. 
 
 Bat the blest spirit of your God on high 
 Spoke to your soul and bade your darkness fly, 
 Brought his sweet cheering influence from above, 
 And woke you up to holiness and love. 
 Glory to God, for his rich sov'reign grace ! 
 Glory to Him, who bade you seek his face ! 
 Still may you seek him with renew'd delight, 
 And safely walk with him in shining white; 
 Leave all for esus, to his fountain go, 
 And make your garments dazzling as the snow; 
 Be faithful unto death, and you'll receive 
 All the unwith'ring joys a God can give. 
 I now conclude, and may my prayers ascend 
 To my unchanging Advocate and Friend, 
 For your increase in joy, in faith, and love, 
 For your diligence to secure above 

 
 POETICAL EFFUSIONS. 85 
 
 A glorious rest, without the least alloy, 
 A bright, a whole eternity of joy. 
 
 November 26th, 1320. 
 
 HYMN. 
 
 1. 
 
 My Jesus, how I long to be 
 Perfectly conform'd to thee ; 
 Chang'd into thy image bright, 
 Lost in beams of thy own light; 
 Wrapt in faith, " My Father" cry, 
 And find thy presence ever nigh. 
 
 2. 
 I the stream of life must taste, 
 I long — I faint for thy embrace,
 
 86 POETICAL EFFUSIONS. 
 
 For nought can satisfy my soul, 
 Unless thy spirit fill the whole ; 
 When this I feel, my soul will rest 
 Upon my loving Father's breast. 
 
 3. 
 Thine own lost image may I find 
 Pervade my frail inconstant mind, 
 Subdue each sin that fain would rise, 
 T' impede my passage to the skies; 
 The promis'd Comforter from heaven 
 Witness and shew my sins forgiven. 
 
 4. 
 Lost in the abyss of thy love, 
 May I thy perfect fulness prove; 
 Lost in immeasurable height, 
 Thro' glowing faith, pursue my flight
 
 POETICAL EFFUSIONS. 87 
 
 To yonder world, where faith will cease 
 In visions of eternal peace. 
 
 June, 1821. 
 
 LINES 
 
 WRITTEN IN A SEASON OF MUCH HEAVINE8S. 
 
 Why droops my soul, and why do cares invest? 
 Why does the long drawn sigh burst from my breast? 
 Why is my harp upon the willow hung? 
 And why does praise sit silent on my tongue? 
 It is because the Dove celestial's flown, 
 And all his sweet attractive influence gone ; 
 It is because my glorious Sun's conceal'd, 
 Tis unbelief that has my Jesus veil'd;
 
 88 POETICAL EFFUSIONS. 
 
 I seek my Lord, my love, in vain I try 
 To catch one glance of his love-beaming eye; 
 Tis darkness all — I fain would plume my wing, 
 And of his ransom'd creatures loudest sing; 
 But when about to soar, I find a weight 
 Chaining me down to this terrene estate, 
 For clouds and darkness so obscure my sky, 
 That I can't see my dear Redeemer nigh. 
 O! how I long, by faith, to feel that blood, 
 That quench'd the wrath of an offended God ! 
 How do I pant to feel my sins forgiven, 
 And have my earnest of a seat in heaven ! 
 To feel that all my sins by Him were borne 
 Who trod the wine-press of our God alone; 
 Who spread his hands upon th' accursed tree, 
 To set the fallen sons of Adam free ;
 
 POETICAL EFFUSIONS. 89 
 
 Who, after triumphing o'er death and hell, 
 
 Displaying love immense — unsearchable, 
 
 Soar'd far above the empyrean height, 
 
 And reigns sole monarch of the realms of light ; 
 
 Unrivall'd reigns, to send th' spirit of power 
 
 Into my heart, with pentecostal shower — 
 
 The Holy Ghost, t' anoint the wounded soul, 
 
 And witness Gilead's balm hath made it whole. 
 
 O! that the spirit of health I now could feel! 
 
 Come, Comforter divine, and ever seal 
 Me for thine own, and give me to behold, 
 
 My wand'ring soul safe lodg'd within the fold 
 
 Of that sweet company, who, joyous, haste 
 
 Onward to Sion, through this barren waste, 
 
 Where beasts of prey with savage temper roam, 
 
 To fright the pilgrim whilst he's journeying home ;
 
 90 POETICAL EFFUSIONS. 
 
 But vain's their malice — Judah's Lion reigns, 
 And gently leads his flock to Salem's plains. 
 
 EFFUSIONS 
 
 TO A FRIEND, ON HER BIRTH-DAY. 
 
 Friend of my spirit, object of my love, 
 Choice blessing from the hand of Him above! 
 Thy natal day's return awakes my lyre 
 And blooming spring, in all her gay attire, 
 Greets this auspicious morn, with me to raise 
 An altar teeming with Jehovah's praise. 
 Weak is my strain, and feeble is my verse, 
 But, O ! may 1 my love to thee rehearse, 
 Touch the sweet chord of hallow'd friendship dear, 
 And breathe my feelings on thy listening ear.
 
 POETICAL EFFUSIONS. 91 
 
 Thou wilt receive lny simple strain of love 
 As emanating from the fount above; 
 Yes, Mary! yes, our's is celestial fire, 
 Which through eternity will mount the higher, 
 Jordan's cold flood shall never quench the flame, 
 For, oh! 'twill burn and have immortal reign 
 In that bright world, where holy souls shall never 
 Be disunited — but enwreath'd for ever. 
 Then let us fight the fight, and urge our way 
 To the fair portals of eternal day, 
 Where friendship's beauteous flower will never die, 
 For God, the Lamb, will all its need supply, 
 From his own ocean of unfathom'd love, 
 Whose depths no angel mind can ever prove. 
 But shall 1 tell thee, Mary, how I prize 
 Thy friendly soul, so void of all disguise? 
 G2
 
 92 POETICAL EFFUSIONS. 
 
 Solace of my existence thou dost prove, 
 Teaching me how to climb the mount of God. 
 In thee, sweet sharer of my weal and woe, 
 I see rich streams of consolation flow ; 
 Streams of my Father's love, on me pour'd down, 
 To glad my soul and still the sorrowing moan, 
 Which fain would rise from out my riv'n heart ; 
 For thou know'st, Mary, I've been call'd to part 
 With such dear objects of my fondest care, 
 Who, whilst below, did ev'ry sorrow share, 
 Mourn'd when I mourn'd, and joy'd when I rejoie'd: 
 But, ah! 'tis true, I ne'er shall hear the voice 
 Of my lov'd father, — guardian of my youth, — 
 Who taught my infant mind the page of truth, 
 Smil'd on my op'ning years, and fondly strove 
 To load me with his sweet paternal love;
 
 POETICAL EFFUSIONS. 93 
 
 For thou art flown, my father, thy blest soul 
 Hath reach'd the peaceful and eternal goal, 
 Where rude oppression never finds a place, 
 Where ev'ry tear is wip'd from ev'ry face; 
 But, soon I trust to share thy rapturing joy, 
 In that sweet realm where pleasures never cloy ; 
 To tune my harp in unison with thine, 
 And breathe mellifluously the strain divine ; 
 Bask in the beam that fills thy soul with light, 
 And make the glad exchange of faith for sight. 
 Mary, the theme is tender — you'll excuse 
 The plaintive numbers of a daughter's muse, 
 And bear with me whilst mein'ry sheds a tear, 
 Affection's dew drop, on a father's bier: —
 
 94 POETICAL EFFUSIONS. 
 
 MONODY 
 
 WRITTEN ON THE FIRST ANNIVERSARY OF MY BELOVED FATHER'S 
 
 DEATH. 
 
 " I will sing of mercy and judgement." — Psalm 101 — v. 1. 
 
 1. 
 
 Thou all-inspiring hallowing Dove descend, 
 
 And tune my harp to notes of sacred praise, 
 Thy pow'rful unction from above, oh! lend, 
 And teach my heart to pour her grateful lays. 
 
 2. 
 Does not this solemn day's return demand 
 
 From my still bleeding heart a thankful strain? 
 Shall I, so nurtur'd by Jehovah's hand, 
 
 So borne above all sorrow, care, and pain, —
 
 POETICAL EFFUSIONS. 95 
 
 3. 
 
 Shall I uot swell the gen'ral song of praise, 
 And sing of mercy, yea of judgment too ? 
 
 Confess Him just in all his wond'rous ways, 
 And all his cov'nant love and care review ? 
 
 4. 
 
 I sing of judgment — O! thou Pow'r supreme, 
 Who hast thy way amid the pathless deep, 
 
 Thine is to lend, and thine is to redeem; 
 Our's to submit, and prostrate at thy feet. 
 
 5. 
 
 To do thy will, the armies of the sky 
 
 On the swift wing of glad obedience move ; 
 
 Nor can a Gabriel, though in glory high, 
 Sound the deep counsels of thy sov'reign love.
 
 96 POETICAL EFFUSIONS. 
 
 6. 
 
 Hid from angelic knowledge, mortal ken, 
 
 Thine is to rule, to balance, and decree; 
 Thy righteous sceptre sways the sons of men, 
 
 Past, present, future, all are like to thee. 
 
 7. 
 
 I sing of judgment — yea, for I have known 
 The hour of sorrow, and the billowing day : 
 
 My youthful heart, alas ! it learnt to mourn, 
 When my lov'd father fled from earth away. 
 
 8. 
 
 Twelve months have sped their flight since those dear eyes 
 To heavenwards gaz'd, as longing to be there, 
 
 Impatient to behold that paradise 
 
 Where weary spirits rest from ev'ry care.
 
 POETICAL EFFUSIONS. 97 
 
 9. 
 
 Oh ! 'twas a time of deep distress and grief, 
 
 Whilst dire disease spread o'er his much-lov'd form 
 
 In this dread hour where could I find relief, 
 Save in the arms of Him who rules the storm? 
 
 10. 
 
 To Him I pour'd the ardent ceaseless prayer, 
 And hop'd this sickness was not unto death; 
 
 Besought my God, his precious life to spare, 
 And in rich mercy lengthen out his breath. 
 
 11. 
 
 But all in vain — commission'd from on high, 
 The fatal arrow struck his house of clay; 
 
 His elder brother beckon'd from the skv, 
 And bid him welcome to the realms of day.
 
 08 POETICAL EFFUSIONS. 
 
 12. 
 
 I walch'd his coucb, and saw the grace divine 
 Express'd in all his meek submissive will; 
 
 No murmur breath'd, nor did he e'er repine — 
 
 He heard the voice that whisper'd u Peace, be still. 
 
 13. 
 
 Before that cheering voice all sorrow fled; 
 
 His end was peace, but no extatic joy. 
 His spirit rested on the Lamb who bled; — 
 
 Entcr'd the bliss that suffers no alloy. 
 
 14. 
 
 That hour of grief methinks again I view, 
 
 When all death's signals press'd upon my sight — 
 
 The hurried breathing and the chilly dew, 
 All told him hasting to the plains of light.
 
 POETICAL EFFUSIONS. 99 
 
 15. 
 
 With eager ardent prayer, he raised his frame, 
 And fondly grasp'd a hand of all around: 
 
 Fault'ring, in death, dwelt on the hallow'd name 
 Of Him whose mercy never knew a bound. 
 
 16. 
 
 His life's best love, and orphans dear, he cast 
 On the broad bosom of his faithful God : 
 
 He knew whose arm had succour 'd through the past, 
 And now invited him to trust his love. 
 
 17. 
 
 The partner of his life, my mother dear, 
 
 Hung o'er the bed, where lay th' expiring saint; 
 
 When, lo ! a sight so full of bliss was there, 
 A smile it was — angelical, yet faint —
 
 100 POETICAL EFFUSIONS. 
 
 18. 
 
 That for a moment shone and look'd so bright, 
 As prelude to the never-ending day, 
 
 That rules in splendour th' empyrean height, 
 And gilds heaven's sky with an unclouded ray. 
 
 19. 
 
 The weary pulse of life now ceas'd to beat, — 
 His eye of fondness clos'd on all below, — 
 
 Unseen attendants led him forth to meet 
 The bliss that can no interruption know. 
 
 20. 
 
 Gazing upon his sleeping clay, my heart 
 Told the sad truth I had no father here, 
 
 To whose parental breast I could impart 
 My all of sorrow and my all of care.
 
 POETICAL EFFUSIONS. 101 
 
 21. 
 
 Yet, in this hour of filial grief, the light 
 
 Of faith illunrd ray lacerated heart, 
 Pointed to Him who's hid from mortal sight, 
 
 Yet reigns enthron'd, his succour to impart. 
 
 22. 
 
 I call'd this great One, Father, and my soul 
 Beheld in him the orphan's shield and stay ; 
 
 Check'd were the waves of sorrow in their roll, 
 And I was taught "Thy will he done" to say. 
 
 23. 
 
 Therefore, upon the harp to thee I'll sing, 
 
 And tell thy goodness, oh ! thou glorious Lord 
 
 My warmest praises to thy feet will bring, 
 And gratitude shall swell ray every chord.
 
 102 POETICAL EFFUSIONS. 
 
 24. 
 
 And when I tread the golden courts above, 
 And re-embrace my father in the air, 
 
 My raptur'd soul shall shout thy boundless love, 
 And all eternity thy praise declare. 
 
 September 1st, 1822. 
 
 NOCTURNAL REFLECTIONS, 
 
 WRITTEN UNDER BODILY SUFFERING. 
 
 This earthly house I feel is frail! — it is 
 A tenement prone to decay, subject 
 To all the nipping blasts of dire disease, 
 Which often shake its fabric, built in dust, 
 Proclaiming loudly "This is not your rest."
 
 POETICAL EFFUSIONS. J03 
 
 Oh ! what a tabernacle is this of mine ! 
 
 So exquisitely form'd, that all its parts 
 
 Pourtray the wisdom of its sovereign Lord; 
 
 So fair and yet so fragile is its mould, 
 
 That flow'rs of summer fade not half so soon ; 
 
 E'en the poor moth, with silken wing, can boast 
 
 Of an existence more secure and firm. 
 
 Yes, sin, that enemy to God and man, 
 
 Hath render'd it thus mortal, and justice 
 
 Hath decreed its quick return to mother 
 
 Earth. Though it is short liv'd, it is destin'd 
 
 To be the casket of a gem of such 
 
 Vast worth, that all the store of oceans mines 
 
 Of gold, systems and suns, and all the host 
 
 Of glowing constellations bright, must sink 
 
 To nought, if once compar'd with that which will
 
 104 POETICAL EFFUSIONS. 
 
 Survive the "crush of worlds," and run its round 
 
 Of endless being, when moons shall cease to wane, 
 
 And suns to shine. Yes, yes, my soul, I feel 
 
 Thou art immortal! all within declares 
 
 This truth — a truth so big with holy hope 
 
 And joy, that language fails, and even thought's 
 
 O'erwhelm'd, amid the depths profound that meet 
 
 My view. Materialist, oh ! what have you 
 
 To soft the briary road of life, and joy 
 
 Beyond the grave? Your pleasures rest in sense ; 
 
 And madly you deny the being of 
 
 A spark within, that all the floods of death 
 
 Can never quench, or e'en eternity 
 
 Extinguish. Your conceptions are so gross 
 
 And vain, you have my pity, and, I add, 
 
 My prayers : for I would not be mindless of
 
 POETICAL EFFUSIONS. ]05 
 
 The murky gloom that engulfs you, whilst I 
 
 Rejoice in hope of immortality, 
 
 To which fair state T am entitled, hy 
 
 The cov'nant love of great Immanuel, 
 
 The eternally belov'd of God, who 
 
 Suffer'd in ray stead and sheath'd the glitt'ring 
 
 Sword of vengeful wrath within that breast, where 
 
 Roll'd a sea of love. 
 
 LINES 
 
 ADDRESSED TO A BROTHER, ON HIS BIRTH DAY. 
 
 Object belov'd, thy sister must essay 
 
 In poesy to hail thy natal day ; 
 
 My lyre, so long unstrung, shall now impart 
 
 To thee the feelings of my grateful heart. 
 
 H
 
 106 POETICAL EFFUSIONS. 
 
 Grateful emotions to the God of heaven, 
 
 Who hath in tender love a hrother given ; 
 
 Spar'd thee to cheer my pilgrimage helow; 
 
 Spar'd thee to wipe the tear that fain would flow; 
 
 To aid me onward to the world of light; 
 
 To seek with me a city out of sight. 
 
 Can my weak fault'ring tongue express the praise 
 
 I owe to Him, who crowneth all my days 
 
 With goodness, love, and grace, immense and free, 
 
 And still unites a brother's heart to me ? 
 
 Why, if I walk the narrow thorny road, 
 
 That leads me to the mansions of my God; 
 
 Why, if I do profess to bear the cross, 
 
 And for my Saviour count all things as loss, 
 
 Should I thus find my path bestrew'd with flowers, 
 
 And all my sojournment rcfrcsh'd with showers
 
 POETICAL EFFUSIONS. 107 
 
 Of heavenly love and friendship, strong and pure, 
 
 Union of souls that shall for e'er endure ? 
 
 It is because my Jesus reigns above, 
 
 And lives to plead before a throne of love. 
 
 On this sole ground, a being as I, so vile, 
 
 Have streams of love, my travel to beguile. 
 
 My brother, tune thy harp with mine to swell 
 
 A sacred song to love unspeakable. 
 
 Thy blood-bought soul, O, fully yield to God, 
 
 And labour for the rest of perfect love; 
 
 How do I long to see the sacred flame 
 
 Spread through thy soul, and animate thy frame j 
 
 How do I pant to see on thee imprest, 
 
 The seal divine of holiness and rest; 
 
 Glad then thy sister's heart, by opening wide 
 
 Thy arms of faith to clasp the crucilicd,
 
 108 POETICAL EFFUSIONS. 
 
 And on this natal morn give up afresh, 
 Thy soul and body to his sweet behest; 
 Keep nothing back, jour Captain calls you on, 
 Jesus will be your shield and cheering sun; 
 Follow your great exemplar, and he '11 bring 
 Your ransom'd spirit, where you '11 sit and sing, 
 On Sion's mount, " Salvation to the Lamb, — 
 u Eternal glory to the great 'I Am!' " 
 There may I join you, 'mid the shining host, 
 Where grace, free grace, will only be our boast; 
 "Where the unveiled charms of Him who bled, 
 Will be display'd to ev'ry crowned head; 
 Where rivers of perpetual bliss abide, 
 And streams of blessedness for ever glide; 
 In these bright regions of unsullied light 
 Our happy souls in praises shall unite,
 
 POETICAL EFFUSIONS. 109 
 
 T' adore that gracious Being, who led us through 
 
 This howling wilderness of care and woe; 
 
 Pluek'd us as brands from everlasting fire, 
 
 And then, to raise his glorious triumphs higher, 
 
 Bid us ascend, as victors take the crown, 
 
 And claim through Christ the kingdom as our own. 
 
 WRITTEN ON THE CLOSE OF THE YEAR, 
 
 Time on its fleeting pinions, me hath borne 
 
 To see expire another year — a year 
 
 So fraught with blessing and with love, that could 
 
 My numbers flow in loftiest strain and echo 
 
 Through the earth, — or had I twice ten thousand 
 
 Tongues,—! could not reach the theme, or tell the
 
 110 POETICAL EFFUSIONS. 
 
 Gratitude I owe to Him, who holds the 
 lleins of universal sway, and sitteth 
 King for ever, and whose will is act, for 
 He decrees and it is done, in the bright 
 Armies of the skies, where all the dazzling 
 Host reflect his brightness, and among the 
 Sons of men, where none can stay his hand, or 
 With impunity demand "what doest thou?" 
 His counsels deep,. and emanating from 
 Eternal love, can ne'er be foil'd, although 
 Oppos'd ; for power omnipotent is His, 
 T' accomplish all his mercy doth design. 
 'Tis this stupendous theme of mercy that 
 Should now attune my lyre, eliciting 
 Glad strains of praiseful adoration, for 
 1 yet have being, and am this day the
 
 TOETICAL EFFUSIONS. Ill 
 
 Living to declare his praise; my pulse of 
 Life still beats, and the sweet boon of health in 
 Measure I enjoy; my bark, though tempest 
 Tost, its sails now swell with hope to greet the 
 Shore of sweet repose, where streams of heav'nly 
 Love refresh each soul athirst for life. Oh ! 
 This is mercy, that I still desire to 
 Be a subject in his reign of grace, to 
 Spread his praise, and pass my little span of 
 Life, obedient to his gracious will. But, 
 Shall I lift the veil of retrospect, and 
 Solemnly review the months, the days, the 
 Moments that are fled, mingled with those of 
 Antediluvian date, for they, alas! 
 Are mine, no more; they 've giv'n in their record 
 To the court above ; and were it not for
 
 112 POETICAL EFFUSIONS. 
 
 Blood divine, where could I hide my hlushing 
 
 Head ; for I've a monitor within that 
 
 Tells me "Tekel" must the motto he of 
 
 All that I have done, for seeds of latent 
 
 111 have strew'd my pathway through another 
 
 Year, and oft intruded on the hallow'd 
 
 Hour apart for God, and urging me to 
 
 Ply for refuge to the wounds of that blest 
 
 Victim, whose pure blood extinguish'd wrath, broke 
 
 The iron jaws of death, and open threw 
 
 The gate of uncieclining day.
 
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