« AnteriorContinuar »
Oh, no !—let twilight shadows come, When heaven is still and nature dumh.
Then, when the zephyrs in the leaves
Scarce hreathe, amid their mazy round, And every sigh that air receives
Is heard along her still profound—
Yield him to earth—and let the dew
And let the stars come forth and view
Their course goes on—he ne'er again
Shall tread the walks of living men.
Far In the west the ruddy glow
And with its hrightness seems to show
But soon the fading grandenr flies,
And sadden'd night assumes the skies.
It is a holy hour of quiet,
By which the soften'd heart is woo'd To thoughts that in the time of riot
Are rarely welcom'd to intrude— To thoughts which evening's halmy kiss Will often hring—nor hring amiss.
T^o sound awakes through all the sky,
That chants his little note on high,
And yet comes floating softly hy,
As 'twere a parted spirit's sigh.
A little cloud of snowy whiteness
And seems with all its fleecy lightness,
That little cloud so calmly stealing,
Brings to the heart a sadden'd feeling.
A spell of silence hreathes around,
Or if a single voice is shed,
Oh ! what an hour to quit the dead I
Choose not the day—take twilight's tone,
THE BURIAL OF A GOOD MAN.
This place is holy ground;
World, with thy cares away I
Silence and darkness reign around,
Hut lo! the hreak of day:
, 'Tis not the morning light
It is an uncreated heam,
Like that which shone on Jacoh's dream.
Eternity and time,
Met for a moment here;
From earth to heaven, a scale suhlime
Rested on either sphere—
He landed in our view
'Midst flaming hosts ahove;
Whose rank stood silent while he drew
Near to the throne of love: And meekly took the lowest seat, Yet nearest his Redeemer's feet.
Thrill'd with extatic awe,
Eutranc'd our spirits fell,
And saw, yet wist not what they saw:
And heard—no tongue can tell: What sounds the ear of rapture caught 1 What glory fill'd the eye of thought!
Thus far ahove the pole,
On wings of mounting fire,
Faith may pursue the enfranchised soul,
But soon her pinions tire: It is not given to mortal man Eternal mysteries to scan.
Behold this hed of death,
This pale and lovely clay:
Heard ye the soh of parting hreath?
Mark'd ye the eye's last ray? No: life so sweetly ceased to he, It lapsed in immortality!
Could tears revive the dead, Rivers should swell our eyes; Could sighs recal the spirit fled, We would not quench our sighs Till love return'd this alter' d mien, And all the emhodied soul were seen.
Bury the dead, and weep
In stiliness o'er the loss;
Bury the dead—in Christ they sleep
Who hore on earth his cross: And from the grave their dust shall rise In his own image to the skies!
THE FAULTS OF THE DEAD LIE IN THEIR GRAVE.
Hard is his heart who uever at the tomh Of one helov'd, o'er the sepulehral urn Hasmus'd on days that shall no more return, And cull'd around from the funereal gloom, Shades of past joy; while te^ars that lenient
flow, Seem to ohliterate the sense of wo. Lo! on the mirror hright of former days,
Whereon we love to gaze, Repictoring the scene of happiness,
No forms unkind intrude;
O'er each hard feature rude, Gather the shadows of forgetfuiness; While all that minister'd delight, Floats like a hlissful dream hefore the sight. 'Tis as a pleasant land hy moonlight seen, Where each harsh form that met the day,
In darkness dies away; Smooth gleams and tender shadows steal
hetween, While the pale silvery orh glides peaceful o'er the scene.
THE LAST MAN,
All worldly shapes shall melt in gloom, The Sun himself must die,
Before this mortal shall assume
Adown the galf of Time!
As Adam saw her prime!
The Sun's eye had a sickly glare,
The Earth with age was wan;
Around that lonely man I
In plague and famine some!
To shores where all was dumh!
Yet prophet-like, that lone one stood,
With danntless words and high, That shook the sere leaves from the wood,
As if a storm pass'd hy,
Tis Mercy hids thee go—
That shall no longer flow.
What though heneath thee man put forth
His pomp, his pride, his skill;
The vassals of his will;
For all those trophied arts
Entail'd on human hearts.
Go, let ohlivion's curtain fall
Upon the stage of men,
Life's tragedy again:
Of pain anew to writhe;
Like grass beneath the scythe.
E-v'o I am weary in yon skies
To watch tny fading fire;
JBehold nut me expire.
To see thou shait not hoast.
Receive my parting ghost!
This spirit shall return to Him
That gave its heav'nly spark;
When thou thyself art dark!
By Him recall'd to hreath,
And took the sting from Death!
Go, Sun, while Mercy holds me up
On Nature's awful waste,
Of grief that man shall taste—
On earth's sepulchral clod,
Or shake his trust in God!
SIGNS OF CHRIST'S COMING.
The world is grown old, and her pleasures are past;
The sun in the Heaven is languid and pale;
The King on his throne, the hride in her hower,
The world is grown old! hot should we complain
Who have tried her, and know that her promise is vain?
Our heart is in Heaven, our home is nut here,
And we look for our crown when Judgment is near!
0 Thop, on eanh heloved, adored. My friend, my father, and my Lord!
1 see thee now without a veil.— HelpI or my dazzled sight will fail.
0 hear ine to ihat hurning throne,
1 scarce can hrook to gaze upon,
And learn unutterahle lays,
But lo! what sadden splendors heaming, O'er heaven's illumin'd arch are streaming What hues of varied heauty hlending, What fair celestial towers descending!—
0 Salem, city of our God 1
The saints'—the martyrs' hlest ahode,—
1 see the gates of pearl unfold,
I see thy streets of huinish'd gold:
The chariot! the chariot! its wheels roll in fire,
As the Lord cometh down in the pomp of his ire:
Self-moving it drives on its pathway of cloud,
And the Heavens with the hurthen of Godhead are how'd.
The glory! the glory! hy millions are pour'd,
The trumpet! the trumpet! the dead have all heard:
The Judgment* the Judgment! the thrones are all set,
AH flesh is at ouce in the sight'of the Lord,
Oh Mercy! Oh Mercy! look down from ahove,
THE DAY AFTER JUDGMENT.
Tbe days and years of Time are fled,
From Adam to his youngest heir,
Bat lo! far off the righteous pass
In silence, on the sea of glass,
Then every eye in Him shall see,
(While thrones and powers hefore him fall,)
The fulness of the Deity,
Where God himself is all in all:
O how eternity shall ring
While the fust note the ransom'd sing!
While in that strain all voices hlend,
Which once hegun shall never end.
In that unutterahle song,
HERE AND THERE.
H. MO It I.,.
Here, hliss is short, imperfect, insecure;
But total, ahsolute, and perfect There.
Here, time's a moment, short our happiest state;
There, infinite duration is our date.
Here, Satan tempts, and trouhles e'en the hest;
There, Satan's power extends not to the hlest.
In a weak simple hody, Here 1 dwell;
But There I drop this frail and sickly shell.