« AnteriorContinuar »
And while they toss my name about,
'The Dean, if we believe report, Was never ill-received at court. As for his works in verse and prose, I own myself no judge of those; Nor can I tell what critics thought 'em, But this I know, all people bought 'em. As with a moral view designed To cure the vices of mankind, His vein, ironically grave, Exposed the fool, and lashed the knave. To steal a hint was never known, But what he writ was all his own.
'He never thought an honour done him, Because a duke was proud to own him; Would rather slip aside and choose To talk with wits in dirty shoes; Despised the fools with stars and garters, So often seen caressing Chartres. He never courted men in station, Nor persons held in admiration; Of no man's greatness was afraid, Because he sought for no man's aid. Though trusted long in great affairs, He gave himself no haughty airs. Without regarding private ends, Spent all his credit for his friends; And only chose the wise and good; No flatterers; no allies in blood: But succoured virtue in distress, And seldom failed of good success; As numbers in their hearts must own, Who, but for him, had been unknown.
Perhaps I may allow the Dean
Yet malice never was his aim;
He lashed the vice, but spared the name;
'He knew a hundred pleasing stories, With all the turns of Whigs and Tories: Was cheerful to his dying day; And friends would let him have his way. 'He gave the little wealth he had To build a house for fools and mad; And showed by one satiric touch, No nation wanted it so much.'
Hark! how all the welkin rings
Joyful, all ye nations, rise,
'Christ the Lord is born to-day!'
Christ, by highest Heaven adored;
Veiled in flesh the Godhead see;
Hail! the heavenly Prince of Peace! Hail! the Sun of Righteousness! Light and life to all He brings, Risen with healing in His wings.
Mild He lays His glory by,
Come, Desire of Nations, come,
Now display Thy saving power,
Adam's likeness, Lord, efface;
Let us Thee, though lost, regain,
'Christ the Lord is risen to-day,'
Love's redeeming work is done,
Vain the stone, the watch, the seal; Christ hath burst the gates of hell! Death in vain forbids His rise; Christ hath opened Paradise!
Lives again our glorious King: Where, O Death, is now thy sting? Dying once, He all doth save: Where thy victory, O Grave?
Soar we now where Christ has led,
What though once we perished all,
Risen with Him, we upward move;
Scarce on earth a thought bestow,
Hid, till Christ our Life appear Glorious in His members here; Joined to Him, we then shall shine, All immortal, all divine.
Hail the Lord of Earth and Heaven!
King of glory, Soul of bliss!
Jesu, lover of my soul,
Let me to Thy bosom fly, While the nearer waters roll,
While the tempest still is high! Hide me, O my Saviour, hide,
Till the storm of life is past, Safe into the haven guide;
O receive my soul at last!
Other refuge have I none;
Hangs my helpless soul on Thee; Leave, ah! leave me not alone,
Still support and comfort me! All my trust on Thee is stayed,
All my help from Thee I bring: Cover my defenceless head
With the shadow of Thy wing!
Wilt Thou not regard my call?
Lo! on Thee I cast my care!