E'EN now, while tragic Midnight walks the land,
And spreads the wings of darkness with her wand,
What scenes are witness'd by Thy watchful eye!
What millions waft to thee the prayer and sigh!
Some gaily vanish to an unfear'd grave,
Fleet as the sun-flash o'er a summer wave;
Some wear out life in smiles, and some in tears;
Some dare with hope, while others droop with fears.
The vagrant's roaming in his tatter'd vest,
The babe is sleeping on its mother's breast;
The captive mutt'ring o'er his rust-worn chain,
The widow weeping for her lord again,
While many a mourner shuts his languid eye,
To dream of heaven, and view it ere he die:
And yet, no sigh can swell, nor tear-drop fall,
But Thou wilt see, and guide, and solace all!
NIGHT.
R. MONTGOMERY.
ANOTHER day is added to the mass
Of buried ages. Lo! the beauteous moon,
Like a fair shepherdess, now comes abroad,
With her full flock of stars that roam around
The azure mead of heaven. And, oh! how charm'd
Beneath her loveliness, creation looks;
Far-gleaming hills, and light-in weaving streams,
And fragrant boughs with dewy lustre clothed,
DID Sweeter sounds adorn my flowing tongue, Than ever man pronounced, or angel sung; Had I all knowledge, human and divine, That thought can reach, or science can define; And had I power to give that knowledge birth, In all the speeches of the babbling earth; Did Shadrach's zeal my glowing breast inspire, To weary tortures, and rejoice in fire; Or had I faith like that which Israel saw, When Moses gave them miracles and law; Yet, gracious Charity! indulgent guest! Were not thy power exerted in my breast, Those speeches would send up unheeded prayer, That scorn of life would be but wild despair; A cymbal's sound were better than my voice; My faith were form, my eloquence were noise. Charity! decent, modest, easy, kind, Softens the high, and rears the abject mind; Knows the just reins and gentle hand to guide Betwixt vile shame and arbitrary pride. Not soon provoked, she easily forgives, And much she suffers, as she much believes.
Soft peace she brings wherever she arrives:
She builds our quiet, as she forms our lives;
Lays the rough paths of peevish nature even,
And opens in each heart a little heaven.
Each other gift which God on man bestows,
Its proper bounds and due restriction knows;
To one fix'd purpose dedicates its power,
And, finishing its act, exists no more.
Thus, in obedience to what Heaven decrees,
Knowledge shall fail, and prophecy shall cease;
But lasting Charity's more ample sway,
Nor bound by time, nor subject to decay,
In happy triumph shall for ever live,
And endless good diffuse, and endless praise receive.
As through the artist's intervening glass,
Our eye observes the distant planets pass,
A little we discover, but allow
That more remains unseen than art can show; So whilst our mind its knowledge would improve, (Its feeble eye intent on things above,)
High as we may, we lift our reason up,
By Faith directed, and confirm'd by Hope;
Yet are we able only to survey
Dawnings of beams and promises of day.
Heaven's fuller effluence mocks our dazzled sight,
Too great its swiftness, and too strong its light.
But soon the mediate clouds shall be dispell'd,
The Sun shall soon be face to face beheld,
In all his robes, with all his glory on,
Seated, sublime, on his meridian throne.
Then constant Faith and holy Hope shall die,
One lost in certainty, and one in joy;
Whilst thou, more happy power, fair Charity,
Triumphant sister, greatest of the three,
Thy office and thy nature still the same,
Lasting thy lamp, and unconsumed thy flame, Shalt still survive
Shalt stand before the host of Heaven confess'd, For ever blessing, and for ever bless'd.
Ir seems a light and trivial thing
To view time's onward flight impell'd;
To mark the shadow of his wing
Turn'd back!-a sight but once beheld.
Once only, to a monarch's prayer,
Was given by miracle divine
The moments pass'd again to share,
And see retrac'd time's shadowy line.
Yet thousands daily live on earth
As if their ineffectual might
Could give this wonder hourly birth
And backward turn time's rapid flight.
O time! Heaven's richest gift to man,
"Till gone-too rarely understood,
How few thy richest treasures scan,
Or rightly estimate thy good!
Far beyond honours, power, or wealth,
The records of thy flight endure,
And render, by unheeded stealth,
The poorest rich, the richest poor.
Abus'd! though fame's proud heights be trod, Those barren summits nought can give; Us'd for the glory of thy God
The humblest in content may live.
Thou Giver of this gift sublime!
Grant us thy grace its use to see,
That we may at the end of time
Enjoy eternity with thee.
My fervent soul shall bless the Lord,
And sing Jehovah's name ador'd.
Oh God! how great are all thy ways,
Demanding gratitude and praise;
Honour and majesty are thine,
And beams of light around thee shine:
Thy hand extends the arch on high,
The azure curtain of the sky;
The clouds thy regal chariot form;
Thou ridest on the rushing storm;
Amidst the regions of the air,
The winds thy car triumphal bear;
To thee enraptur'd spirits bend,
And angels round thy throne attend;
While lightnings in thy presence beam,
The ministers of power supreme.
At thy behest the earth appear'd,
On firm eternal basis rear'd:
The floods arose at thy command,
And spread their mantle o'er the land:
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