« السابقةمتابعة »
sailors stand amaz'd and tremble! While the hoarse thunder, like a bloody trumpet, Roars a loud onset to the gaping waters,
Quick to devour them.
Such shall the noise be, and the wild disorder, (If things eternal may be like these earthly) Such the dire terror, when the great archangel
Shakes the creation;
Tears the strong pillars of the vault of heaven, Breaks up old marble, the repose of princes; See the graves open, and the bones arising,
Flames all around 'em.
Hark the shrill outcry of the guilty wretches!
Gnawing within them.
Thoughts, like old vultures, prey upon their heart
strings, And the smart twinges, when their eye beholds the Lofty Judge frowning, and a flood of vengeance
Rolli afore him.
Hopeless immortals! how they scream and shiver, While devils push them to the pit wide yawning, Hideous and gloomy, to receive them headlong
Down to the centre.
Stop here my fancy: (all away ye horrid
Thron'd, yet adoring!
O may I sit there when he comes triumphant,
Shout the Redeemer.
LAUNCHING INTO ETERNITY.
It was a brave attempt! advent'rous he
I see the surging brine: the tempest raves,
Such is the soul that leaves this mortal land Fearless, when the great Master gives command. Death is the storm: she.smiles to hear it
roar, And bids the tempest waft her from the shore: Then with a skilful helm she sweeps the seas, And manages the raging storm with ease; (Her faith can govern Death) she spreads her wings Wide to the wind, and as she sails she sings, And loses by degrees the sight of mortal things. As the shores lessen, so her joys arise, The waves roll gentler, and the tempest dies: Now vast eternity fills all her sight; She floats on the broad deep with infinite delight, The seas for ever calm, the skies for ever bright.
SWEET Muse, descend and bless the shade,
And bless the ev'ning grove; Bus’ness and noise and day are fled,
And ev'ry care but love.
wanton young and fair, Mine is a purer flame; No Phillis shall infect the air
With her unhallow'd name.
Jesus has all my pow'rs possest,
My hopes, my fears, my joys:
Some of the fairest choirs above
Shall flook around my song
Sound from a mortal tongue.
His charms shall make
numbers flow, And hold the falling floods, While silence sits on ev'ry bough,
And bends the list’ning woods.
I'll carve our passion on the bark,
And ev'ry wounded tree
That Jesus dy'd for me.
The swains shall wonder when they read
Inscrib'd on all the grove,
To win a mortal's love.
HERO'S SCHOOL OF MORALITY.
THERON among his travels found : A broken statue on the ground; And searching onward as he went, He trac'd a ruin'd monument. * Mould, moss, and shades, had overgrown The sculpture of the crumbling stone,
Ꭰ Ꮞ .