A god; in purple or in rags, to have Of all; the purpose of the heart to be Set up, admired, obey'd. But who would bow The knee to one who served, and was dependent? Hence man's perpetual struggle, night and day, To prove he was his own proprietor, And independent of his God, that what He had might be esteem'd his own, and praised O desperate frenzy! madness of the will! And drunkenness of the heart! that nought could quench But floods of wo, poured from the sea of wrath, The back on life original, and live! In the Creator's realm! to deify A woman! and in the sight of God be proud! [worlds Most mad! guilt most complete! seest thou those That roll at various distance round the throne Of God, innumerous, and fill the calm Of heaven with sweetest harmony, when saints And angels sleep ?-As one of these, from love Centripetal withdrawing, and from light, And heat, and nourishment cut off, should rush To ruin still, through the abortive waste; Their single arm against the second death; In utter dark find light; and find repose HYMN TO THE CREATOR. Lord Brougham. "THERE is a God," all nature cries; And bid each voice in chorus rise Thy name, great Nature's Sire divine, Assiduous we adore, Rejecting godheads at whose shrine Benighted nations blood and wine Yon countless worlds, in boundless space, Their mighty orbs as curious trace As the blue circlet studs the face Of that enamell'd flower. But thou too mad'st that floweret gay The hand that fired the lamp of day, " Painted the velvet lawn. 'As falls a sparrow to the ground, Obedient to thy will," By the same law those globes wheel round, . One order to fulfil. ANTICIPATION OF FUTURE HAPPINESS. Taylor. AH! why this disconsolate frame? A sun in the gloomiest day. Though molten a while in the fire, 'Tis only the gold to refine; And be it my simple desire, Though suffering, not to repine. What can be the pleasure to me, Which earth in its fulness can boast? Delusive its vanities flee, A flash of enjoyment at most! And if the Redeemer could part, For me, with his throne in the skies, Ah! why is so dear to my heart What he in his wisdom denies ? Though riches to others be given, Where should my affections be found? Why stoop for the glittering sands, Which they are so eager to share, Forgetting those wealthier lands Dear Jesus, my feelings refine, My soul shall rejoice in the Lord! |