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“ So man departs the living scene
To night's perpetual gloom;
The slumbers of the tomb.
“ Where are our fathers? whither gone
The mighty men of old ?
In sacred books enrolled ?
“Gone to the resting-place of man,
The everlasting home,
Where future ages coine."
Thus Nature poured the wail of woe,
And urged her earnest cry ;
Ascended to the sky.
The Almighty heard : then from his throne
In majesty He rose;
His voice in mercy flows :
“When mortal man resigns his breath,
And falls a clod of clay,
To never-setting day.
Prepared of old for wicked men,
The bed of torment lies;
Immortal in the skies.”
“At last, my arms embrace my Lord,
Now let their vigour cease; At last my eyes my Saviour see,
Now let them close in peace!
“ The star and glory of the land,
Hath now begun to shine;
Breaks on these eyes of mine."
THE PRAYER OF JACOB.
O God of Bethel! by whose hand
Thy people still are fed;
Hast all our fathers led;
Our vows, our prayers, we now present
Before thy throne of grace : God of our fathers, be the God
Of their succeeding race.
Through each perplexing path of life
Our wandering footsteps guide ; Give us each day our daily bread,
And raiment fit provide.
Oh! spread thy covering wings around,
Till all our wanderings cease, And at our father's loved abode,
Our souls arrive in peace!
Such blessings from thy gracious hand
Our humble prayers implore; And Thou shalt be our chosen God,
And portion evermore.
THE rush may rise where waters flow,
And flags beside the stream;
Before the scorching beam.
So is the sinner's hope cut off;
Or, if it transient rise, 'Tis like the spider's airy web,
Fron every breath that flies.
Fixed on his house he leans : his house,
And all its props decay;
The tottering frame gives way.
Fair, in his garden, to the sun,
His boughs with verdure smile; And deeply fixed his spreading roots,
Unshaken stand awhile.
But forth the sentence flies from heaven,
That sweeps him from his place; Which then denies him for its lord,
Nor owns it knew his face.
Lo! this the joy of wicked men,
Who heaven's high law despise : They quickly fall; and in their room,
As quickly others rise.
But, for the just, with gracious care,
God will his power employ;
And fill their hearts with joy.
1 NATHANIEL COTTON
Was a physician at St. Alban's, where he acquired great reputation in his profession, and died in 1798.
The poetical compositions of Cotton are distinguished by a refined elegance of sentiment, and simplicity of expression. He writes flowingly and correctly; and sometimes with elevation and spirit. His thoughts are always just, and religiously pure. All his works convey religious and moral instruction to the reader.
Ler not the young my precepts shun:
you please, before we part,