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How the

poor sailors stand amaz'd and tremble! While the hoarse thunder, like a bloody trumpet, Roars a loud onset to the gaping waters,

Quick to devour them.


Such shall the noise be, and the wild disorder, (If things eternal may be like these earthly) Such the dire terror, when the great archangel

Shakes the creation;

Tears the strong pillars of the vault of heaven, Breaks up old marble, the repose of princes; See the graves open, and the bones arising,

Flames all around 'em.

Hark the shrill outcry of the guilty wretches!
Lively bright horror and amazing anguish
Stare thro'their eye-lids, while the living worm lies

Gnawing within them.

Thoughts, like old vultures, prey upon their heart

strings, And the smart twinges, when their eye beholds the Lofty Judge frowning, and a flood of vengeance

Rollie afore him. Hopeless immortals! how they scream and shiver, While devils push them to the pit wide yawning, Hideous and gloomy, to receive them headlong

Down to the centre.

Stop here my fancy: (all away ye horrid
Doleful ideas!) come arise to Jesus,
How he sits God-like: and the saints around him

Thron’d, yet adoring!

O may I sit there when he comes triumphant,
Dooming the nations! then ascend to glory,
While our Hosannas all along the passage

Shout the Redeemer.




was a brave attempt! advent'rous he Who in the first ship broke the unknown sea; And leaving his dear native shores behind, Trusted h life to the licentious wind.

I see the surging hrine: the tempest raves,
He on a pine-plank rides across the waves,
Exulting on the edge of thousand gaping graves:
He steers the winged boat, and shifts the sails,
Conquers the floods, and manages the gales.

Such is the soul that leaves this mortal land
Fearless, when the great Master gives command.
Death is the storm: she.smiles to hear it roar,
And bids the tempest waft her from the shore:
Then with a skilful helm she sweeps the seas,
And manages

the raging storm with ease;
(Her faith can govern Death) she spreads her wings
Wide to the wind, and as she sails she sings,
And loses by degrees the sight of mortal things.
As the shores lessen, so her joys arise,
The waves roll gentler, and the tempest dies:
Now vast eternity fills all her sight;
She floats on the broad deep with infinite delight,
The seas for ever calm, the skies for ever bright.

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SWEET Muse, descend and bless the shade,

And bless the ev'ning grove; Bus'ness and noise and day are fled,

And ev'ry care but love.

But hence, ye wanton young and fair,

Mine is a purer flame;
No Phillis shall infect the air

With her unhallow'd name.

Jesus has all my pow'rs possest,

My hopes, my fears, my joys:
He, the dear Sov'reign of my breast,

Shall still command my voice.

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Some of the fairest choirs above

Shall flook around my song
With joy, to hear the name they love,

Sound from a mortal tongue.

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His charms shall make my numbers flow,

And hold the falling floods, While silence sits on ev'ry bough,

And bends the list'ning woods.

I'll carve our passion on the bark,

And ev'ry wounded tree
Shall drop and bear some mystic mark

That Jesus dy'd for me.

The swains shall wonder when they read

Inscrib'd on all the grove,
That Heav'n itself came down, and bled

To win a mortal's love.





THERON among his travels found
A broken statue on the ground;
And searching onward as he went,
He trac'd a ruin'd monument.
Mould, moss, and shades, had overgrown
The sculpture of the crumbling stone,


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