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Death and Judgment, Heav'o and Hell.

These alone, fo often heard, No more move us than thé bell

When some stranger is interr'd.

Oh then, ere the turf or tomb

Cover us from ev'ry eye, Spirit of instruction, come,

Make us learn that we must die!


Felix qui potuit rerum cognoscere causas,
Quiq: metus omnes et inexorabil fatum
Subjecit pedibus, strepitumq; Acherontis atari!

Happy the mortal, who has trac'd effects
To their First Cause, cast fear beneath his feet,
And Death, and roaring Hell's voracious fires:

THANKLESS for favours from on high

Man thinks he fades too soon; Tho''tis his privilege to die,

Would be improve the boon.


Bat he, not wife enough to scan

His best concerns aright,
Would gladly stretch life's little span

To ages, if he might.

where he goes,

To ages in a world of pain

Gall’d by affliction's heavy chain,

And hopeless of repose.

Strange fondness of the human heart,

Enamour'd of its harm! Strange world, that costs it so much smart,

And still has pow'r to charm.

Whence has the world her magic pow'r

Why deem we death a foe? Recoil from weary life's best hour,

And covet longer woe?

The cause is Conscience Conscience oft

Her tale of guilt renews ; Her voice is terrible, though foft

And dread of death ensues.

Then anxious to be longer spar'd

Man mourns his feeting breath; All evils then seem light, compar'd

With the approach of Death.

'Tis Judgment shakes him; there's the fear

That prompts the wish to stay: He has incurr'd a long arrear,

And must despair to pay.

Pay!—follow CHRIST, and all is paid;

His death your peace insures;
Think on the Grave where He was laid,

And calm yours.

1793. De sacris autem hæc sit una sententia, ut conserventur.

But let us all concur in this sentiment,

He lives who lives to God, alone;

And all are dead beside;
Por other fource than God, is none

Whence life can be supplied.

To live to God, is to requite

His love as best we may;
To make his precepts our delight,

His promises our stay.

But life, within a narrow ring

Of giddy joys compris’d,
Is falsely nam'd, and no fuch thing,

But rather death disguis'd.

Can life in them deferve the name,

Who only live, to prove
For what poor toys, they can disclaim

An endless life above ?

Who, much diseas'd, yet nothing feel;

Much menac'd, nothing dread; Have wounds, which only God can heal,

Yet never ask his aid!

Who deem his house an useless place;

Faith, want of commop sense ; And ardour in the Christian race,

A hypocrite's pretence !

Who trample order; and the day

Which God asserts his own, Dishonour with unhallow'd play,

And worship Chance alone!

If scorn of God's commands, impress'd

On word and deed, imply
The better part of man, unbless'd

With Life that cannot die ;

Such want it;—and that Want, uncurd

Till man resign his breath, Speaks him a Criminal, affur'd

Of everlasting death,

Sad period to a pleasant course!

Yet so will God repay
Sabbaths profap?d without remorse,

And Mercy cast away.

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