So all night long I hurried on
Pacing full many a mile,
I knew not his avenging hand
Was on me all the while..
Weary I was, and safe I thought,
But when it was day-light
I had I found been running round
And round the church all night.
I shook like a palsy and fell on my knees
And for pardon devoutly I pray'd:
my master came up-what Christoval, You are here betimes, he said.
I have been idle good master! I cried, Good master and I have been wrong, And I have been running round the church In penance all night long.
If thou hast been idle, Henrique said,
Go home and thy fault amend;
I will not oppress thee Christoval,
May the Saint thy labour befriend..
Homeward I went a penitent,
And I never was idle more;
St. Isidro blest my industry
As he punish'd my fault before.
my debtor was poor, old Christoval said, I have never exacted my due,
I remembered Henrique was good to me
And copied his goodness too.
When my neighbour has sinn'd, old Christoval said,
I have ever forgiven his sin,
For I thought of the night by St. Andres' church And remember'd what I might have been..
Living without GOD in the WORLD.
Mystery of God! thou brave and beauteous world,
Made fair with light and shade and stars and flowers,.
Made fearful and august with woods and rocks,
Jagg'd precipice, black mountain, sea in storms,
Sun, over all, that no co-rival owns,
But thro' Heaven's pavement rides as in despite
Or mockery of the littleness of man!
I see a mighty arm, by man unseen,
Resistless, not to be controul'd, that guides,
In solitude of unshared energies,
All these thy ceaseless miracles, O world!
Arm of the world, I view thee, and I muse
On Man, who trusting in his mortal strength,,
Leans on a shadowy staff, a staff of dreams.
We consecrate our total hopes and fears
To idols, flesh and blood, our love, (heaven's due),
Our praise and admiration; praise bestowed
By man on man, and acts of worship done
To a kindred nature, certes do reflect
Some portion of the glory and rays oblique
Upon the politic worshipper,—so man
Extracts a pride from his humility.
Some braver spirits of the modern stamp
Affect a Godhead nearer: these talk loud
Of mind, and independant intellect,
Of energies omnipotent in man,
And man of his own fate artificer;
Yea of his own life Lord, and of the days
Of his abode on earth, when time shall be,
That life immortal shall become an art,
Or Death, by chymic practices deceived,
Forego the scent, which for six thousand years
Like a good hound he has followed, or at length
More manners learning, and a decent sense
And reverence of a philosophic world,
Relent, and leave to prey on carcasses.
But these are fancies of a few: the rest,
Atheists, or Deists only in the name,
By word or deed deny a God. They eat
Their daily bread, and draw the breath of heaven
Without or thought or thanks; heavens roof to them
Is but a painted ceiling hung with lamps,
No more, that lights them to their purposes.
They wander "loose about," they nothing see,
Themselves except, and creatures like themselves,
Short-liv'd, short-sighted, impotent to save.
So on their dissolute spirits, soon or late,
Destruction cometh "like an armed man,"
Or like a dream of murder in the night,
Withering their mortal faculties, and breaking
The bones of all their pride.
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