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But I'll retire beneath the cross:

Saviour, at thy dear feet I lie;

And the keen fword that justice draws,
Flaming and red, shall pass me by.

Seeking a divine Calm in a restless World.

"O Mens, quæ ftabili fata Regis vice, &c."

Cafimire, Book III. Od. 28.

ETERNAL mind, who rul'ft the fates

Of dying realms, and rising states, With one unchang'd decree;

While we admire thy vaft affairs,

Say, can our little trifling cares

Afford a fmile to thee?

Thou scattereft honours, crowns, and gold:
We fly to feize, and fight to hold

The bubbles and the oar:
So emmets ftruggle for a grain;
So boys their petty wars maintain
For fhells upon the shore.

Here a vain man his fceptre breaks,
The next a broken fceptre takes,
And warriors win and lofe;
This rolling world will never stand,

Plunder'd and fnatch'd from hand to hand,

As power decays or grows.



Earth's but an atom: Greedy fwords
Carve it amongst a thousand lords,
And yet they can't agree :

Let greedy fwords ftill fight and flay,
I can be poor; but, Lord, I pray
To fit and finile with thee.


"HOW meanly dwells th' immortal mind t

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"How vile thefe bodies are!

Why was a clod of earth design'd "T'enclose a heavenly star?

"Weak cottage where our fouls refide!

"This flesh a tottering wall;

"With frightful breaches gaping wide "The building bends to fall.

"All round it ftorms of trouble blow,

"And waves of forrow roll;

"Cold waves and winter ftorms beat through,

“And pain the tenant-soul.

"Alas! how frail our ftate !" faid I:

And thus went mourning on,

Till sudden from the cleaving sky
A gleam of glory shone.

My foul all felt the glory come,

And breath'd her native air


Then the remember'd heaven her home,

And the a prifoner here.

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Straight she began to change her key,

And joyful in her pains,

She fung the frailty of her clay

In pleasurable ftrains.

"How weak the prifon is where I dwell !

"Flesh but a tottering wall,

"The breaches chearfully foretel,
"The house must shortly fall.

"No more, my friends, fhall I complain,
"Though all my heart-ftrings ake;
"Welcome difeafe, and every pain,
"That makes the cottage fhake.

"Now let the tempeft blow all round,
"Now fwell the furges high,

"And beat this houfe of bondage down, "To let the ftranger fly.

"I have a manfion built above

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By the Eternal Hand;

"And thould the earth's old bafis move,

"My heavenly house must stand.

"Yes, for 'tis there my Saviour reigns, "(I long to fee the God)

"And his immortal ftrength futains
"The courts that coft him blood."

Hark, from on high my Saviour calls:
"I come, my Lord, my Love :"
Devotion breaks the prifon-walls,
And speeds my last remove.





T was a brave attempt! adventurous He,
Who in the firft fhip broke the unknown iea:
And, leaving his dear native fhores behind,
Trufted his life to the licentious wind.

I fee the furging brine: the tempeft raves :
He on a pine-plank rides across the waves,
Exulting on the edge of thoufand gaping graves:
He fteers the winged boat, and fhifts the fails,
Conquers the flood, and manages the gales.

Such is the foul that leaves this mortal land
Fearless when the great mafter gives command.
Death is the ftorm: She fmiles to hear it roar,
And bids the tempeft waft her from the fhore :
Then with a skilful helm fhe fweeps the feas,
And manages the raging ftorm with ease;

(Her faith can govern death) fhe spreads her wings
Wide to the wind, and as fhe fails the fings,

And lofes by degrees the fight of mortal things.
As the fhores leffen, fo her joys arife,
The waves roll gentler, and the tempeft dies,
Now vaft eternity fills all her fight,

She floats on the broad deep with infinite delight,
The feas for ever calm, the fkies for ever bright.




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A Prospect of the RESURRECTION.

OW long shall death the tyrant reign

And triumph o'er the juft,

While the rich blood of martyrs flain
Lies mingled with the duft?

When shall the tedious night be



When will our Lord appear?

Our fond defires would pray him down,

Our love embrace him here.

Let faith arife, and climb the hills,
And from afar defcry

How diftant are his chariot-wheels,
And tell how fast they fly.

Lo, I behold the scattering shades,
The dawn of heaven appears,
The fweet immortal morning spreads
Its blushes round the fpheres.

I see the Lord of glory come,
And flaming guards around:
The fkies divide, to make him room,
The trumpet shakes the ground.

I hear the voice, "Ye dead, arise !"
And lo, the graves obey,
And waking faints with joyful eyes
Salute th' expected day.


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