Then, while we mingle dust with dust,
To One, supremely good and wise,
Raise hallelujahs! God is just,

And man most happy when he dies!
His winter past,

Fair spring at last

Receives him on her flowery shore!

Where pleasure's rose

Immortal blows,

And sin and sorrow are no more!

VERSES

SUPPOSED TO BE WRITTEN BY ALEXANDER SELKIRK, DURING HIS SOLITARY ABODE IN THE ISLAND OF JUAN FERNANDEZ.

I AM monarch of all I survey,

My right there is none to dispute;
From the centre all round to the sea,
I am lord of the fowl and the brute.
O solitude! where are the charms

That sages have seen in thy face?
Better dwell in the midst of alarms,
Than reign in this horrible place.

I am out of humanity's reach,

I must finish my journey alone;
Never hear the sweet music of speech,
I start at the sound of my own.

The beasts that roam over the plain
My form with indifference see;
They are so unacquainted with man,
Their tameness is shocking to me.

Society, friendship, and love,
Divinely bestow'd upon man,
O had I the wings of a dove,
How soon would I taste you again .
My sorrows I then might assuage

In the ways of religion and truth, Might learn from the wisdom of age, And be cheer'd by the sallies of youth

Religion! what treasure untold

Resides in that heavenly word!
More precious than silver and gold,
Or all that this earth can afford:
But the sound of the church-going bell
These valleys and rocks never heard,
Ne'er sigh'd at the sound of a knell,
Or smiled when a Sabbath appear'd.

Ye winds, that have made me your sport,
Convey to this desolate shore

Some cordial endearing report

Of a land I shall visit no more.
My friends, do they now and then send
A wish or a thought after me?
O tell me I yet have a friend,

Though a friend I am never to see.

How fleet is a glance of the mind! Compared with the speed of its flight.

The tempest itself lags behind,

And the swift-winged arrows of light.
When I think of my own native land,
In a moment I seem to be there;
But, alas! recollection, at hand,

Soon hurries me back to despair.

But the sea-fowl has gone to her nest,
The beast is laid down in his lair;
Even here is a season of rest,

And I to my cabin repair.
There is mercy in every place,
And mercy, encouraging thought!
Gives even affliction a grace,

And reconciles man to his lot.

ADDRESS TO THE DEITY.

O, THOU! Whom eye hath seen not-nor shall see; Whose way is in the deep !—whose steps unknown; Enshrined, thyself, in clouds of mystery,

Yet darting beams of heavenly brightness down!Thou art my God! and prostrate at thy throne, And firm in faith, and strengthen'd in thy power, I yield my all :-O God! accept thine own, From the frail heart that seeks to know no more Than that thou liv'st and reign'st-to tremble and

adore!

O! let my soul, content to worship Thee,

Each daring thought, each prouder wish resign,

Till thine own voice shall set the spirit free,
And mortal knowledge ripen to divine!
Perhaps (forgive that daring hope of mine)
Thine eye of grace the humbler prayer may view,
And bid thy heavenly light more brightly shine
On those who, panting for its beams, yet knew
To wait in patient hope-till death the veil undrew!

O! not on doubt's interminable main

Let my frail bark by varying winds be cross'd;
Where human aid, alas! but shows in vain,

To the wreck'd wretch, the port for ever lost!
Who shall assuage thy griefs, "thou tempest-

toss'd!"

And speak of comfort, "Comfortless!" to thee?

Who but the power that knows thy weakness most? And in his own good time can set thee free, Spreading the oil of Peace o'er thy tumultuous sea!

And let not him who never felt a fear,

Safe in his pride of heart, thy woes deride : Perhaps that scornful eye or brow severe

Hath thoughts less hallow'd than thine own to hide. Even the dark days of doubt have purified Thy chasten'd soul from many an earthly stain, And driven afar the demon power of Pride,

That once had mark'd thee in his menial train, But now hath lost his slave, and spreads his lures in vain!

Poor child of darkness! happier in thy tears

Happier than they that mock them as they flow; With all thy doubts, thy weakness, and thy fears, Thy heart hath learn'd this simple truth to know,—

That not to man, whose dwelling is below, Whose brother is the worm, whose bed the dustPartner with thee in want, and guilt, and wo,— Doth God the records of thy deeds intrust; But He alone is Judge-whose law alone is just. Father of light! whose loveliest name is LOVE! Whose throne the contrite seek, the guilty fly,Thou art my God: around, beneath, above,

I see no frowns-no terror in thine eye! All breathes of that pervading harmony Which draws from present ill the future good; All points our spirits to that peaceful sky, Where, banish'd far, nor sorrow's wayward mood, Nor fancy's evil train, nor real ills intrude!

But who shall know Thee, and be known of Thee, When thou, Great Shepherd! call'st us to thy fold? And who shall taste thy glorious liberty,

And, "face to face," thine awful form behold? O, God! O, Father! mould our spirits-mould To thine each purpose of the obedient heart; Shake off the mists that now our eyes infold; Let every fear but fear of thee depart;

And let us see thy face and know thee as THOU ART!