Oh! who shall then survive? In the sky's azure canopy: When for the breathing earth, and sparkling sea, Lord of all power, when thou art there alone Needs not the perish'd sun nor moon : When thou art there in thy presiding state, Wide-sceptered monarch o'er the realm of doom: When from the sea depths, from earth's darkest womb, The dead of all the ages round thee wait: And when the tribes of wickedness are strewn Like forest leaves in the autumn of thine ire: LXXIX. For thou wert born of woman! thou didst come, And not by thunders strew'd was thy tempestuous road; But thee, a soft and naked child, Thy mother undefiled, In the rude manger laid to rest The heavens were not commanded to prepare Nor stoop'd their lamps th' enthroned fires on high : As at a kingly throne, To lay their gold and odours sweet The earth and ocean were not hush'd to hear Of all the race of man By simple shepherds heard alone, And when thou didst depart, no car of flame To bear thee hence in lambent radiance came; Nor visible angels mourn'd with drooping plumes: Nor didst thou mount on high from fatal Calvary With all thine own redeem'd outbursting from their tombs. For thou didst bear away from earth But one of human birth, The dying felon by thy side, to be In Paradise with thee. Nor o'er thy cross the clouds of vengeance brake; A little while the conscious earth did shake At that foul deed by her fierce children done; A few dim hours of day the world in darkness lay; Then bask'd in bright repose beneath the cloudless sun. While thou didst sleep beneath the tomb, Consenting to thy doom: Ere yet the white-robed angel shone Upon the sealed stone. And when thou didst arise, thou didst not stand Plaguing the guilty city's murtherous crew; Into thy native skies, Thy human form dissolved on high LXXX. WHEN I Consider how my light is spent, Ere half my days, in this dark world and wide; And that one talent, which is death to hide, Lodg'd with me useless, though my soul more bent, To serve therewith my Maker, and present My true account, lest he return and chide; "Doth God exact day-labour, light denied?” I fondly ask: But patience, to prevent That murmur, soon replies," God doth not need, Either man's work, or his own gifts; who best Bear his mild yoke, they serve him best; his state Is kingly thousands at his bidding speed, : And post o'er land and ocean, without rest; They also serve, who only stand and wait." LXXXI. WHEN faith and love, which parted from thee never, Had ripen'd the just soul to dwell with God, Meekly thou didst resign this earthly load Of death, call'd life; which us from life doth sever. Thy works, and alms, and all thy good endeavour, Staid not behind, nor in the grave were trod; But as faith pointed with her golden rod, Follow'd thee up to joy and bliss for ever! Love led them on, and faith, who knew them best Thy handmaids, clad them o'er with purple beams, And azure wings, that up they flew so dress'd, And spake the truth of thee in glorious themes, Before the Judge; who thenceforth bid thee rest, And drink thy fill of pure immortal streams. LXXXII. PRAYER is the soul's sincere desire, Prayer is the burthen of a sigh, Prayer is the simplest form of speech Prayer the sublimest strains that reach, Prayer is the Christian's vital breath, Prayer is the contrite sinners voice, While angels in their songs rejoice, The saints in prayer appear as one, |