Lord, blast his empire with thy breath,
That cursed throne must fall;
Ye flattering plagues, that work my death,
Fly! for I hate you all.
THE Lord! how fearful is his name?
How wide is his command?
Nature, with all her moving frame,
Rests on his mighty hand.
Immortal glory forms his throne,
And light, his awful robe:
Whilst with a smile, or with a frown,
He manages the globe.
A word of his almighty breath
Can swell or sink the seas;
Build the vast empires of the earth,
Or break them as he please.
Adoring angels round him fall,
In all their shining forms;
His sovereign eye looks through them all,
And pities mortal worms.
His bowels, to our worthless race,
In sweet compassion move;
He clothes his looks with softest grace,
And takes his title, Love.
Now let the Lord for ever reign,
And sway us as he will;
Sick, or in health, in ease, or pain,
We are his favourites still.
No more shall peevish passion rise,
The tongue no more complain ;
"Tis sovereign love that lends our joys,
And love resumes again.
'CURS'D be the man, for ever curs'd,
That doth one wilful sin commit;
Death and dannation for the first,
Without relief and infinite.'
Thus Sinai roars; and round the earth
Thunder, and fire, and vengeance flings;
But Jesus, thy dear gasping breath,
And Calvary, say gentler things.
Pardon, and grace, and boundless love,
Streaming along a Saviour's blood,
And life, and joys, and crowns above,
Dear-purchas'd by a bleeding God.'
Hark, how he prays, (the charming sound
Dwells on his dying lips) forgive;
And every groan and gaping wound
Cries, Father, let the rebels live.'
Go you that rest upon the law,
And toil, and seek salvation there;
Look to the flames that Moses saw,
And shrink, and tremble, and despair.
But I'll retire beneath the cross,
Saviour at thy dear feet I lie;
And the keen sword that Justice draws,
Flaming and red, shall pass me by.
O Mens, quæ stabili fata Regis vice, &c.
Casimir, Book III. Od. 28.
ETERNAL mind, who rul'st the fates
Of dying realms, and rising states,
With one unchang'd decree;
While we admire thy vast affairs
Say, can our little trifling cares
Afford a smile to thee?
Thou scatterest honours, crowns, and gold;
We fly to seize, and fight to hold
The bubbles and the ore:
So emmets struggle for a grain:
So boys their petty wars maintain,
For shells upon the shore.
Here a vain man his sceptre breaks,
The next a broken sceptre takes,
And warriors win and lose;
This rolling world will never stand,
Plunder'd and snatch'd from hand to hand,
As power decays or grows.
Earth's but an atom: greedy swords
Carve it amongst a thousand lords,
And yet they can't agree :
Let greedy swords still fight and slay,
I can be poor: but, Lord, I pray
To sit and smile with thee.
'How meanly dwells the' immortal mind!
How vile these bodies are!
Why was a clod of earth design'd
To' inclose a heavenly star?
• Weak cottage where our souls reside!
This flesh a tottering wall;
With frightful breaches gaping wide
The building bends to fall.
All round it storms of trouble blow,
And waves of sorrow roll;
Cold waves and winter storms heat through, And pain the tenant-soul.
Alas! how frail our state!' said I:
And thus went mourning on,
Till, sudden from the cleaving sky,
A gleam of glory shone.
My soul all felt the glory come,
And breath'd her native air;
Then she remember'd Heaven her home,
And she a prisoner here.
Straight she began to change her key,
And joyful in her pains,
She sung the frailty of her clay
In pleasurable strains.—
'How weak the prison is where I dwell!
Flesh but a tottering wall,
The breaches certainly foretel
The house must shortly fall.
'No more, my friends, shall I complain,
Though all my heart-strings ache;
Welcome disease, and every pain,
That makes the cottage shake.
"Now let the tempest blow all round, Now swell the surges high;
And beat this house of bondage down, To let the stranger fly.
'I have a mansion built above
By the Eternal hand;
And should the earth's old basis move,
My heavenly house must stand.
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