Oh! who shall then survive?
Oh! who shall stand and live?
When all that hath been is no more:
When for the round earth hung in air,
With all its constellations fair,

In the sky's azure canopy:

When for the breathing earth, and sparkling sea,
Is but a fiery deluge without shore,
Heaving along the abyss profound and dark,
A fiery deluge, and without an ark.

Lord of all power, when thou art there alone
On thy eternal fiery-wheeled throne,
That in its high meridian noon

Needs not the perish'd sun nor moon:
When thou art there in thy presiding state,
Wide-sceptered monarch o'er the realm of doom:
When from the sea depths, from earth's darkest womb,
The dead of all the ages round thee wait:
And when the tribes of wickedness are strewn

Like forest leaves in the autumn of thine ire :
Faithful and true! thou still wilt save thine own!
The saints shall dwell within th' unharming fire,
Each white robe spotless, blooming every palm.
Even safe as we, by this still fountain's side,
So shall the church, thy bright and mystic bride,
Sit on the stormy gulf a halcyon bird of calm.
Yes, mid yon angry and destroying signs,
O'er us the rainbow of thy mercy shines,
We hail, we bless the covenant of its beam,
Almighty to avenge, Almightiest to redeem !


For thou wert born of woman! thou didst come,
O Holiest ! to this world of sin and gloom,
Not in thy dread omnipotent array;

And not by thunders strew'd was thy tempestuous road;
Nor indignation burnt before thee on thy way.

But thee, a soft and naked child,

Thy mother undefiled,

In the rude manger laid to rest
From off her virgin breast.

The heavens were not commanded to prepare
A gorgeous canopy of golden air:

Nor stoop'd their lamps th' enthroned fires on high:
A single silent star came wandering from afar,
Gliding uncheck'd and calm along the liquid sky;
The eastern sages leading on

As at a kingly throne,

To lay their gold and odours sweet
Before thy infant feet.

The earth and ocean were not hush'd to hear
Bright harmony from every starry sphere;
Nor at thy presence brake the voice of song
From all the cherub choirs; and seraph's burning lyres
Pour'd thro' the host of heaven the charmed clouds along.
One angel troop the strain began,

Of all the race of man

By simple shepherds heard alone,
That soft Hosanna's tone.

And when thou didst depart, no car of flame To bear thee hence in lambent radiance came; Nor visible angels mourn'd with drooping plumes : Nor didst thou mount on high from fatal Calvary With all thine own redeem'd outbursting from their tombs. For thou didst bear away from earth

But one of human birth,

The dying felon by thy side, to be
In Paradise with thee.

Nor o'er thy cross the clouds of vengeance brake;
A little while the conscious earth did shake
At that foul deed by her fierce children done;
A few dim hours of day the world in darkness lay;
Then bask'd in bright repose beneath the cloudless sun.
While thou didst sleep beneath the tomb,
Consenting to thy doom:

Ere yet the white-robed angel shone
Upon the sealed stone.

And when thou didst arise, thou didst not stand With devastation in thy red right hand, Plaguing the guilty city's murtherous crew; But thou didst haste to meet thy mother's coming feet, And bear the words of peace unto the faithful few. Then calmly, slowly didst thou rise

Into thy native skies,

Thy human form dissolved on high
In its own radiancy.


WHEN I consider how my light is spent,

Ere half my days, in this dark world and wide; And that one talent, which is death to hide, Lodg'd with me useless, though my soul more bent, To serve therewith my Maker, and present My true account, lest he return and chide; "Doth God exact day-labour, light denied?" I fondly ask: But patience, to prevent

That murmur, soon replies," God doth not need, Either man's work, or his own gifts; who best

Bear his mild yoke, they serve him best; his state Is kingly thousands at his bidding speed,

And post o'er land and ocean, without rest; They also serve, who only stand and wait."


WHEN faith and love, which parted from thee never, Had ripen'd the just soul to dwell with God, Meekly thou didst resign this earthly load Of death, call'd life; which us from life doth sever. Thy works, and alms, and all thy good endeavour, Staid not behind, nor in the grave were trod; But as faith pointed with her golden rod, Follow'd thee up to joy and bliss for ever! Love led them on, and faith, who knew them best Thy handmaids, clad them o'er with purple beams, And azure wings, that up they flew so dress'd,

And spake the truth of thee in glorious themes, Before the Judge; who thenceforth bid thee rest, And drink thy fill of pure immortal streams.


PRAYER is the soul's sincere desire,
Utter'd or unexprest;
The motion of a hidden fire,
That trembles in the breast.

Prayer is the burthen of a sigh,
The falling of a tear:
The upward glancing of an eye,
When none but God is near.

Prayer is the simplest form of speech
That infant lips can try.

Prayer the sublimest strains that reach,
The majesty on high.

Prayer is the Christian's vital breath,
The Christian's native air:
His watch-word at the gates of death;
He enters Heav'n by prayer.

Prayer is the contrite sinners voice,
Returning from his ways;
While angels in their songs rejoice,
And say "Behold he prays!"

The saints in prayer appear as one,
In word and deed, and mind,
When with the Father and his Son,
Their fellowship they find.

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