O that he had his principles maintain❜d,
And the reproach of honour's fools disdain'd!
And was a man so much, so justly priz'd,
To a delusive phantom sacrific'd?
Rouse, rouse Columbia! ev'ry power combine,
Pull down the idol and destroy her shrine:
Expose th' impostor, break the cruel snare;
By proving real honour ne'er was there.
'Tis time such gross idolatry should cease,
Such daring insults to the God of Peace.
TIR'D of the world, and all its vain parade,
I seek for shelter in the friendly shade:
The world's gay visionary scenes may please,
And yield amusement, to a mind at ease;
But they're ill suited to a heart like mine;
A heart that would its hopes and fears resign;
Break loose from earth, cut thro' the various ties,
That bind the soul to these uncertain joys.
For I have prov'd and I have found them vain;
The fruitful source of many a bitter pain;
As vain as shadows which delude the sight;
As transient as the visions of the night.
But here a cheering thought must intervene :
Without a substance, there's no shadow seen:
To gain that substance be my future care,
Nor longer vainly grasp at empty air.
Ye unsubstantial vanities, adieu!
For ever, now, I turn my eyes from
Celestial happiness, be thou my aim.
But how shall I attain the precious gem?
How shall this sinking soul ascend the skies?
Or how secure the bright immortal prize?
Oh! slave of folly, vanity and sin!
What an unweeded garden lies within!
And dar'st thou, then, without some potent cure,
Approach a God, so pow'rful, and so pure?
Much of a Mediator I have heard ;
And in his name my suit have oft preferr'd;
But have I ever been divinely taught
To seek this free salvation, as I ought?
LINES ADDRESSED TO MRS. H
ALAS! how transient every earthly good!
How soon dissolv'd the nearest ties of blood!
Already is your sweet Maria gone,
Already landed on a coast unknown:
To us unknown; but she can now explore
What only faith could realize before.
The conflict now is o'er-her race is run;
To her a long eternity's begun :
Thro' Christ, I trust, she has the victory won,,
O'er sin and death: then the cold grave must prove
An easy bed, all curtain'd round with love.
Still, it is hard to part with one so near,
With the sweet object of maternal care..
Beneath your eye the beauteous virgin grew,
And from your breast her early sust'nance drew.
Nor doth her sire a tie less binding feel :
The manly tear he labours to conceal,
Which from his eyes the parting struggle drew ;.
He needs the kind support he offers you.
F
See! by her bed a mournful group appears,
Speechless with grief, and all dissolv'd in tears!
Let this sad scene impress the solemn truth,
'Tis vain to trust to beauty or to youth.
These tears need not be shed, if these could save
The privileg'd possessor from the grave.
A better life let's labour to secure,
And make our "calling and election sure."
Oh! happy they, who, in their early prime,
Are fully ripen'd for a higher clime;
Who leave this world, and all its tempting snares,
Its short-liv'd pleasures, and its hurrying cares.
Soon as the fleshly clog is left behind,
Th' enfranchis'd spirit rises unconfin'd
To the eternal source, from whence it sprung:
For such a glorious change there's none too young.
Oh! my sweet cousin, it is thine to trace
The height and depth, and breadth, of saving
'Tis ours to mourn; but thine, in sweet amaze,
To join with angels in their songs of praise;
To grateful love, thro' free salvation's plan,
To feel a stronger tie than angels can.
ACCEPT these sympathetic lines, from one
Who feels your grief, and shares in every groan;
Who sees your sorrow preying on your heart,
And pitying feels the tender husband's smart.
Of his soul's treasure robb'd, the partner dear
Who shar❜d his every hope, his every fear;
Fitted to smooth the rugged path of life;
The fondest mother, and the tend❜rest wife.
Each modest virtue triumph'd in her mind;
Expressive meekness on her aspect shin'd.
Then cease to weep, Oh! dry that piteous tear!
Thy sainted wife now fills a higher sphere.
We've cause to hope, she now is bless'd above,
In full fruition of redeeming love.
O GRACIOUS Father! listen to my prayer; Look from thy heaven-in pity deign to hear! See! Hammond's daughter struggling for her life, The dear resemblance of a much lov'd wife!
|