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When man had disobey'd his Lord,
Vindictive Justice drew the sword;
« The rebel and his race shall die,'
He spake, and thunders burst the sky,
Lo! Jesus pardoning grace displays,
Nor thunders roll nor lightnings blaze,
Jesus, the Saviour, stands confess'd,
In rays of mildest glories dress'd.
As round Him press the angelic crowd,
Mercy and Truth He calls aloud;
The smiling cherubs wing’d to view,
Their pinions sounded as they flew :
• Ye favourites of the throne, arise,
Bear the strange tidings through the skies;
Say, man, the apostate rebel, lives;
Say, Jesus bleeds, and Heaven forgives.
• In pity to the fallen race,
I'll take their nature and their place;
I'll bleed, their pardon to procure,
I'll die, to make that pardon sure.'
Now Jesus leaves his bless'd abode,
A Virgin's womb receives the God.
When the tenth moon had waned on earth,
A Virgin's womb disclosed the birth.
New praise employs the' etherial throng,
Their golden harps repeat the song;
And angels waft the’ immortal strains
To humble Bethlehem's happy plains.
While there the guardians of the sheep
By night their faithful vigils keep,
Celestial notes their ears delight,
And floods of glory drown their sight.
When Gabriel thus-Exult, ye swains,
Jesus, your own Messiah, reigns !
Arise, the Royal Babe behold,
Jesus, by ancient bards foretold.
To David's town direct your way, And shout, Salvation's born to-day! There, in a manger's mean disguise, You'll find the sovereign of the skies.'
What joy Salvation's sound imparts,
You best can tell, ye guileless hearts,
Whom no vain science led astray,
Nor taught to scorn Salvation's way.
Though regal purple spurns these truths,
Maintain your ground, ye chosen youths;
Brave the stern tyrant's lifted rod,
Nor blush to own a dying God.
What! though the sages of the earth Proudly dispute this wondrous birth; Though learning mocks Salvation's voice, Know, Heaven applauds your wiser choice.
Oh! be this wiser choice my own!
Bear me, some seraph, to His throne
Where the rapt soul dissolves away
In visions of eternal day!
LORD of my life! inspire my song,
To Thee my noblest powers belong;
Grant me thy favourite seraph's flame,
To sing the glories of thy name.
My birth, my fortune, friends, and health,
My knowledge too, superior wealth;
Lord of my life! to Thee I owe;
Teach me to practise what I know.
Ten thousand favours claim my song,
And each demands an angel's tongue;
Mercy sits smiling on the wings
Of every moment as it springs.
But oh! with infinite surprise
I see returning years arise;
When ụnimproved the former score,
Lord, wilt thou trust me still with more?
Thousands this period hoped to see; Denied to thousands, granted me; Thousands! that weep and wish and pray, For these rich hours I throw away.
The tribute of my heart receive, 'Tis the
all I have to give; Should it prove faithless, Lord, I'd wrest The bleeding traitor from my breast.
Time and Chance happeneth to them all.
Ecclesiastes, ch. ix. ver. 11.
READER, if fond of wonder and surprise,
Behold in me ten thousand wonders rise.
Should I appear quite partial to my cause,
Shout my own praise, and vindicate applause;
Do not arraign my modesty or sense,
Nor deem my character a vain pretence.
Know then I boast an origin and date
Coeval with the sun-without a mate
An offspring I beget in number more
Than all the crowded sands which form the shore.
That instant they are born, my precious breed,
Ah me! expire-yet my departed seed
Enter like spectres, with commission'd power,
The secret chamber at the midnight hour;
Pervade alike the palace and the shed,
The statesman's closet and the rustic's bed;
Serene and sweet, like envoys from the skies,
To all the good, the virtuous, and the wise;
But to the vicious breast remorse they bring,
And bite like serpents, or like scorpions sting.
Being and birth to sciences I give,
By me they rise through infancy and live;