Beheld those days forlorn: but now the light
Of heaven-descended truth, it's radiant beams
Diffusing wide, enlightens happier times,
And Heaven's eternal portals wide unfold
To Faith's uplifted eye eternal scenes:
But who shall enter there? The pure in heart
Who fly those soul-ensnaring soft delights,
And fix their hopes on high
And let us life enjoy, thy followers say,
For thou hast followers still, whose earth bound souls
Seek in this world, and seek in this alone,
The sum of their desires-perfection high,
An appetite indulged! The joys of sense
Are joys to them supreme; and Heaven in vain
Invites to purer bliss beyond the skies.
One truth they own perforce-the yawning grave
Each day assurance gives-that all must die.
No further they explore--their bounded view
Is circumscribed by that cimmerian vault
Where their poor pamper'd bodies must return
To their primeval dust.-But is this all?
"No."-Hear sons of ease,
Daughters of pleasure, hear the charmer's voice,
Than Syrens sweeter it enchants the soul,
But lures not to destroy. Or hear that trump
Whose blast the world's foundation shall uprend,
And your embodied spirits from the grave
Rouse to their final doom; hear it betimes:
(For hear you must) that, when the heavenly shout
Shall burst your prison doors, you may come forth
Awe-struck, but not dismay'd.-Shall man, who bears
The sacred impress (faded though it be)
Of his Divine Creator, mar that stamp
Of excellence, and on his forehead wear
The bestial mark conspicuous? Will he yield
His heavenly birth-right; and contented share
The common lot of brutes? Then let him join
His chosen herd; Circean orgies keep,
Quaff the enchanted bowl, and be a brute,
And eat and drink, and wallow in the mire
Of his intemperate lusts: or bask in ease
Supine, and dose away his useless hours;
Satiety and loathing will succeed;
And those voluptuous pleasures, once so dear,
Pall on his vapid taste. What follows then?
'Tis then he feels, but feels alas too late,
His soul was form'd for happiness refined;
But he has chosen dross: and unimproved
His buried talent must be rendered up.
Then rise his murder'd hours, like spectres dire,
And all his coward soul is in alarm;
The past reproachful and the future fear'd,
Abhorr'd annihilation-nature's dread-
Becomes his wretched wish-his hope forlorn-
Or worse, if worse can be, the wretch has lived,
Who tottering on life's verge hath only wish'd
His health, his youth, his faculties renew'd,
To live his foul excesses o'er again.
Sons of eternity awake in time!
Rouse from your trance-from dreams lethargic rouse.
Let active virtue animate your souls,
And live to pleasures Angels may partake.
Enjoy the luxury of doing good;
Wipe from the orphan's eye the falling tear;
And to your bosoms plead the widow's cause.
Spare from your ample boards, and self deny
To make the wretched wear the smile of joy.
Blest is the heart that feels another's woe
'Tis privileged to ask a boon from Heaven.
Though circumscribed the sphere, 'twill scope afford
For various offices of Christian love.
The chequer'd scenes of life's uncertain day
Unfold with many an ill :-chill Penury
And pining Want, Shame, Sickness, and Disgrace, Griefs multiform arise, and loudly call
For soft humanity's assisting power,
And kind commiseration's pitying sigh.
Go then, ye Epicures, and taste a feast
Surpassing all Lucullus e'er enjoy'd.
But if ye live to selfish joys alone,
If your unpitying eyes can view distress,
Or if your ears be deaf to misery's plaint,
If your closed hand withhold the bounty claim'd-
Or pity live not in your callous breast,
Go, and buoyed up with perishable hope
Of non-existence when this life shall cease,-
Take comfort in the vain delusive thought
To-morrow we eternally expire.
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