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XV.

Air-" Fame, wisdom, love.'

1.

RECORDING Time may grave my name,
With praise, on hist'ry's pages;
But, what! to me, the future fame
That springs from future ages?

For what is praise? An empty sound!

And flattery? A bubble!

And Kings and Courts? A gaudy round

Of vanity and trouble.

2.

Yet I rejoic'd to rear the dome,

For Israel's God to dwell in;

To mark the sacred fire, consume
The sacrifice it fell in:

To see the house with glory fill'd,

The Lord himself descending;

While ev'ry heart with ardour thrill'd, As ev'ry knee was bending.

3.

And tho' Life is an empty void,

A phantom ev'ry pleasure,

And tho' my sated mind was cloyed, Possessing ev'ry treasure;

One gem, I had, of heav'nly birth,
Bestow'd to rule the nation;

Reflecting honour, power, worth,

On my exalted station.

And tho' I've felt that sin can wound,

Deriding spells to charm it;

Yet, "balm in Gilead," I have found,

Successful to disarm it.

Believe not, then, all wisdom vain—
Tho "Music cannot lure it,"

The sting of Death need not remain,
Nor need the heart endure it.

XVI.

Air-" When coldness wraps this suffering clay."

Thoughts suggested by the sudden death of a Socinian, in a public Assembly--Written May, 1821.

1.

WHEN Death obscures the rising ray
Of genius and the soaring mind,
Ah! whither does the spirit stray?

Or, how! the trackless region find?
Do Angels, thro' yon starry plains,
Convey the wand'rer safely home?

Or Devils, loos'd from binding chains,
Attend it to its final doom?

2.

Does it mount up on wings of Hope,
And, piercing, reach the seventh heav'n?
Or, clinging to some earthly prop,

Is it to wild'ring Chaos driv'n?

Has it receiv'd a BIBLE guide?

Or does it trust to Poet's dream,

Which sweetly o'er its track may glide,

Then vanish! like some meteor's beam?

3.

Oh! could that Schoolman come to tell

One lesson from the future's book,

Would he aver, he reason'd well,

Who Godhead from the Saviour took?

Again, with forg❜ry, stigmatize

The hidden mystery of God;

And, with Socinian enterprize,

From justice wrest her scorpion rod?

4.

How awful! to be wrench'd from earth,

Without a moment's warning giv'n;

Like fœtus, of untimely birth,

From lab'ring Nature riv'n:

And not a pause, a sigh, a groan,

Or time to breathe the sinner's prayer;

But forc'd, at once, before the throne,

To find the Saviour, SOVEREIGN THERE!

XVII.

Air-" The King was on his Throne."

1.

THE Voice of him that saith,

66

Prepare the Lord's high way,

"Make straight the desart path,

"He comes! he comes! obey!

"Exalt the humble vale!

"Abase the lofty hill!

“Glad tidings shall prevail,

"The longing soul to fill!"