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Yet /hall Jehovah's fervants stand fecure.
His mercy iix'd, eternal shall endure;
On them her ever-healing rays ihall ihine;
More mild, and bright, and fure, O fun ! than thine.
At length, the long-expected prince behold,
The last good king; in ancient days foretold,
When Bethel's altar fpoke his future fame,
Rent to its bafe, at good Josiah's name.
Bleft, happy prince! o'er whofe lamented urn,
In plaintive fong, all Judah's daughters mourn;
For whom fad Sion's foftest forrow flows,
And Jeremiah pours his fweet melodious woes.
But now falPn Sion, once the fair and great,
Sits deep in dust, abandon'd, defolate;
Bleeds her fad heart, and ever stream her eyes,
And anguilh tears her with convulsive sighs.
The mournful captive fpreads her hands in vain,
Her hands, that rankle with the fervile chain;
Till he, Great Chief! § in Heav'n's appointed time,
Leads back her children to their native clime.
Fair Liberty revives with all her joys,
And bids herenvy'd walla fecurely rife.
And thou, great hallow'd dome, in ruin fpread,
Again fliall lift fublime thy facred head.
But ah! with weeping eyes, the ancients view
A faint refemblance of the old in you.
No more th' essulgent glory of thy God
Speaks awful anfwers from the mystic cloud:
No more thine altars blaze with sire divine,
Aud Heav'n has left thy folitary ihrin*.
Yet, in thy courts hereafter shalt thou fec
Prefence immediate of the Deity, [thee-
The Light himfelf reveaPd, the God confefsM in
And now at length the fated term of yean The world's defire have hrought, and lo! the God appears.
The Heav'nly Eahe the Virgin Mother hears,
And her fond looks confefs the parent's cares;
The pleafing hurden on her hreasts she lays,
Hangs o'er his charms, and with a fmile furveys.
The Infant fmiles, to her fond hofom preft.
And wantons fportive on the mother's hreast.
A radiant glory fpeaks him all Divine,
And in the Child the heams of Godhead shins.
But now, alas! far other views difclofe
The hlackest comprehenfive fcene of woes.
See where man's voluntary facrisice
Bows his meek head, and God eternal dies!
Fixt to the crofs his healing arms are hound,
While copious mercy streams from ev'ry wound.
Mark the hlood-drops that life-exhausting roll,
And the strong pang that rends the stuhhorn foul-5
As all Death's tortures, with fevere delay,
Exult and riot in the nohlest: prey:
And canst thou, stupid man, thofe forrows fee,
Nor share the anguifh which he hears for thee 9
Thy sin, for which his facred flesh is torn,
Points ev'ry nail, and sharpens ev'ry thorn;
Canst thou? while nature fmarts in ev'ry wound,
And each pang cleaves the fympathetic ground!
Lo! the hlack fun, his chariot hackward driv'iu
Blots out the day, aud perishes from heavV: j'
Earth, trembling from her entrails, bears a part,
And the rent rock upbraids man's stubborn heart.
The yawning grave reveals his gloomy reign,
And the cold clay-clad dead start into life again.
And thou, O Tomb, once more ihalt wide difplay Thy fatiate jaws, and give up all thy prey. Thou, groaning Earth, fhalt heave, abforpt in flame, As the last pangs convulfe thy lab Ym g frame; When the fame God, unfhrouded fhalt thou fee, Wrapt in full blaze of pow'r and majesty, Ride on the clouds; whilst, as his chariot flies, The bright essusion streams through all the flues. Then fliall the proud diffolving mountains glow, And yielding rocks in siery rivers flow: The molten deluge round the globe mail roar, And all man's arts and labour be no more. Then lhall the fplendors of th' enliveti'd glafs Sink undlstinguiih'd in the burning mafs. And O! till earth, and feas, and heav'n decay, Ne'er may that fair creation fade away; May winds and storms thofe beauteous colours fpare, Still may they bloom as permanent as fair; All the vain rage of wasting lime repel, And His tribunal fee, whofe crofs they paint fo well \
WRITTEN IN WHICHWOOD 10REST,
hinds how blest, who ne'er beguil'd
To quit their hamlet's hawthorn-wild;
Nor haunt the crow'd, nor tempt the main,
For fplendid care and guilty gain!
When morning's twilight-tincturM beam
Strikes their low thatch with flanting gleam,
They rove abroad in æther blue,
To dip the sithe io fragrant dew:
The flieaf to hind, the beech to fell,
That nodding ihades a craggy dell.
Midst gloomy glades, in warbles clear,
Wild Nature's fweetest notes they hear:
On green untrodden banks they view
The hyacinth's neglected hue:
In their lone haunts, and woodland rounds,
They fpy the squirrel's airy bounds:
And startle from her aihen fpray,
Acrofs the glen, the fcreaming jay:
Each native charm their steps explore
Of Solitude's fequester'd store.
For them the moon, with cloudlefs ray,
Mounts, to illume their homeward way:
Their weary fpirits to relieve,
The meadows incenfe breathe at eve:
No riot mars the simple fare
That o'er a glimmering hearth they iharc:
But when the curfeu's meafur'd roar
Duly, the darkening rallies o'er,'
Has echoed from the distant town,
They with no beds of cygnet-down,
No trophied canopy to clofe
Their drooping eyes in quick repofe.
Their little fons, who fpread the bloorft
Of health around the clay-built room,
Or through the primros'd coppice stray,
Or gambol in the new-mown hay;
Or quaintly braid the cowflip twine,
Or drive asield the tardy kine;
Or haften from the fultry lull
To loiter at the fhady rill;
Or climb the tall pine's gloomy crest:
To rob the raven's ancient nest.
Their humble porch with honied flower* The curling woodbine's made embowers: From the trim garden's thy my mound. Their bees in bufy fwarms refound: Nor fell Difeafe, before his time, Hastes to confume life's golden prime: But when their temples long have wore The silver crown of tresses hoar; As studious still calm peace to keep,, Btneath a flowery turf they Aeep.