PS 2459 .N515 g!;;5^|;!:;;;;;':::;..i;:;!':;;'-i-^ *'#!;!•■■ '^ '^:^;li;:'•;t''v;^':::;''':^v;::^;v^::';';t):^ -■■■';:;:;; ■;:||;i||| •»• ^L . ^"-^^^ J'^/rT^^rt^ -» o •^0 t I B a V> <0 ^fec yWK\ ^^gy * Vi*^ V < a ^^ *'T;t* ,g^ 1 HARMONIES OF CREATION, OR, THE MUSIC OF THE MORNING STARS. TO WHICH ARE ADDED, V MISCELLANEOUS POEMS, ON RELIGIOUS, MORAL, AISD PATRIOTftET ^BCfBfJEC^ AN ORIGINAL WORK. Hold my right hand, Altnight}', and me teach To strike the lyre, but seldom struck, to notes Hannonious with the Morning Stars, and pure As those by sainted bards and angels sung. Which wake the echoes of eternity; That fools may hear and tremble, and the wise, Instructed, listen. Pollok^s Course of Time, Where wast thou when I laid the foundaiions of the earth — when the Morning Stars sang together, and all the sons of God shouted for joy.— Job xxxviii, 4-7. BY JOHN C. NEWMAN, Tutor. Member of the Theological Society, Professor of Penmanship, &c. BALTIMORE: J. W. WOODS, PRINTER, 1836. T5 2,^^l Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1836, by John C. Newman, in the Clerk's Office of the District Court of Maryland. To GENERAL ANDREW JACKSON The Chief Magistrate of A Great and Mighty Republic, whose Meritorious and Distinguished Services For his Country, particularly At the Siege of New Orleans, are Recollected with Gratitude, by The Citizens of our Happy Union; And, To his Illustrious Cotemporary, HENRY CLAY, The Eminent Statesman and Politician of The West, THE HARMONIES OF CREATION; or, THE MUSIC OF THE MORNING STARS, is Most Respectfully Dedicated, by The Author, A Soldier of Eighteen Hundred and Fifteen. CONTENTS. Preface, ....... Address to the Ladies and Gentlemen of Baltimore The Music of the Morning Stars, A Righteous Character Displayed, The Voice of Nature, . ' . . The Memorial of the Just, . . . Chance Blind; or, God the Sole Director of the Af- fairs of this World, The Spread of the Gospel, . . Lines, incribed to the memory of Otho Sheetz, The Hanging Rocks, . . , . The Place of the Soul, . . . Definition of the Soul, Address to the Sun, Paraphrased from Ossian, Swiftness of Time, and Certainty of Death, . For the 4th day of July, 1835, . Stanzas, to Uncle Joe, Stanzas, sacred to the memory of Miss A. B. Stanzas, sacred to the memory of Reverend John Emory, D. D The Rich Man and the Poor Man Contrasted, Death Makes no Distinction, .... Reasons why I hate the Drum and Fife, Epitaph on a Weaver, . , . . . Judgment, ........ Go — Ftead the Bible, On a Young Man dress'd in Women's Clothes, Thoughts Suggested on the Fall of the Leaves, -'Lord, if it be Thee, bid me come to Thee on the Water!" page 9 13 17 89 50 51 56 60 62 65 66 67 69 71 73 74 75 76 78 80 81 82 83 84 86 87 89 VI CONTENTS. A Present Prospect of Future Bliss, . Redemption, Heaven Permanent, an Echo to Moore's Heaven, Welcome to Mr. D. A*******g's family into this Country from Ireland, Dedication of the M. E. Church, in S****g****d H. C. Va The melancholy State of a Backslider Described Time, The Judgment, .... An Epistle to M. J. P. . The Shortness of Human Life, Stanzas, on the departure of Mrs. M'C* Christmas, . . . . Lines, Lines, on Mr, Stark, The Superior Excellence of the Bible, Lines, Epitaph on a Blacksmith, . Lines, . . . . ... * To General A. Jackson, . . To C. M. Th**re, A Tragical Tale, . , Lines, . . . On A^G, . . . . The Christian's Rejoicing, A Fable — the Rat and the Mouse, Lines, .... . . To a Newly Married Pair, .... For the Day of Thanksgiving, Ap. 13, 1815, Epitaph, on a man named Little, Works of Genius, New Inventions, Patents, &e. Lines, The Changeable Nature of all Things Below, Lines, sacred to the memory of Benj. W. Beeler Lines, on the death of Rich'd Parrin Randal, Lines, on the unexpected death of E. G. B. Bishop Emory's Death, Epitaph on a Drunkard, . . To the Right Hon. Henry Clay, . Stanzas, occasioned by the death of Mr. J. K. CONTENTS. Vll Epitaph on a Great Talker, .... Farewell— to the Rev. W. H*nk, . Epitaph, on Miss A. Dove, Stanzas, written on the fall of general Ross, . Epitaph on a Noted Liar, . ^ . . . Leader of Joseph, Invocation to Religion, Good Friday, 1835, . . . , . This World a Dreary Wilderness, . . Praise for Past Blessings and Rejoicing with trem bling, None but One Friend, Tekel, The Crucifixion, Resurrection, Ascension, &c. . Definition of Time, . ... Epitaph on a Tailor, ..... Lines, to the memory of G. M. De La Fayette, Lines, on the Conversion of the Indians, Job's Birth-day, Stanzas, on the Death of Mrs. Jane Foster, . Address to Americans, .... A Just Thought, and a Solemn One, A very Tough Case, The Drunken Husband, .... The Sleigh Ride, . . The Tutor in a Pet, ..... Lines, sacred to the memory of Dr. John Briscoe, Hie Jacet — (Here he lies.) . . . . Epitaph — on a Bad Man, .... The Eternity of God, An Elegiac Eulogium, .... Epitaph, Breathing for Immortality, Battle Ground, A Sketch of Natural Scenery, . Lines, written September, 1814, . Psalm xviii — From 3d to 27th v. inclusive. Epitaph for E. A. C Not Fond of Professional Gentlemen, Love to God Unspeakable, .... Epitaph on a Libertine, .... page 150 151 152 153 155 156 158 ib. 159 160 161 162 163 166 167 168 169 170 171 172 174 175 177 179 180 182 183 ib. 184 187 190 191 192 194 197 199 202 203 ib. 204 Vlll CONTENTS. of Angels, Psalm i. . . . • . What is Man made for? . The 47th Psalm, There is a Day, .... The Spirit— Job iv. 13-21. Lines — inscribed to Miss S. B. Epitaph for W. S.— aged two y^ars. The presence of God Desirable, . Aspiring after God, . Woman, Case of an Awakened Sinner, . Obligations of Man superior to those Disappointment — A Rustic Tale, Friendship, .... Love, . . The March of Mind, . The Holy City, .... The Pot- Valiant Atheist, ^ . A Serious Thought, . ; The Existence of God, . . . Burning of the M. E. Book Concern, The Last Day, ..... Stanzas, sacred to the memory of C. E. M'Neill, Reflections on the death of Geo. W. Shutt, . The Sabbath, . . . First Day of the Week, . . . Liberty, • • AH Hail to Columbia, . . ... Lines, composed at the request of a little girl, . Levis — a Real Character, Stanzas, written on Gen. A. Jackson's victory over the British at New Orleans, ... The Old Man's Marriage, and his Wife cured of Scolding, . page 205 206 207 208 209 210 ih. 211 212 213 lb. 214 215 219 ih. 220 221 224 226 227 228 230 234 236 239 240 241 246 248 249 252 254 PREFACE. Books have been multiplied on every side, and there are many on different subjects; but the number of original American productions is, indeed, exceedingly few. Poeti- cal performances, especially those of a religious nature, are still more scarce. Whether a publication strictly re- ligious, in the main, will meet with the approbation and acceptance of an enlightened and liberal people, is now to be determined. The object of the author is, the dis- semination of religious tiuth and the amelioration of the heart. He has not the vanity to suppose that his produc- tions are equal to our standard poets, who have had both time and leisure to give ornament to their style, and to embellish their stanzas with all the tinsel of the most glittering periods; yet, he is not ashamed to avow that some of his flights would not disgrace the best of them. He makes this assertion with the more freedom and the less temerity, as he has predicated his opinion on the judgment of gentlemen whose minds he deems superior to his own. Though his advantages have not been equal to some of those who have preceded him, yet his stanzas do not sink much below them. The reader will perceive that he has taken some pains, not to adorn his numbers with the tropes and figures of, rhetoric, but to make his verses flow smoothly and freely, without stiffness on the 2 X PREFACE. one hand, and fustian on the other. He is of the opinion that he might interweave a number of those hackneyed and almost worn -out epithets — Meek-eyed Love — Dove- eyed Peace — Pale-eyed Envy — Leaden-eyed Slumber — Iron-toothed Time, SfC. 6fC. — and yet, like a certain Euro- pean Bard, of the present day, produce a — glittering nothing! The author seeks not to dazzle the eye, but to lead the mind to the Fountain of all Goodness, where he may slake his thirst, and satisfy his immortal spirit with streams that never fail; and where "Salvation in abundance flows, Like floods of milk and wine." He must be candid enough, and he is not ashamed to con- fess, that religious effusions alone, are the most congenial to his heart; and of these he has in possession, perhaps, more than a thousand essays. In these pages he wishes not to introduce one single line which, in the day of God, he would had been expunged. His piece, entitled, "The Harmonies of Creation; or. The Music of the Morning Stars," was suggested to his mind by a recurrence to Job, xxxviii, 4 — 7; and he sincerely regrets that he can- not, such is his scarcity of time, take that pains which he ought, to give it a nioie substantial and elegant form; by retrenching what is rather lame, and adding some original ideas, which woiild make it appear to greater advantage. Every syllable and every line, so far as the author knows, are purely oiiginal — the plan — the lan- guage — the form, and the ideas; nor has he resorted to fiction, any further than it might serve his convenience, for laying the foundation of the poem. He hopes that in a future edition, should there ever be a call for it, that it will, appear in a more respectable dress. The piece "On the Cjucifixion," kc. is entirely PREFACE. Xi new to the author. It has been suggested that he had borrowed from Montgomery, whom he had never read! He has, however, since obtained Montgomery's poems, and examined the performance to which allusion has been made, and is happy to find there is a small degree of similarity between the two performances, yet there is not the least trace of plagiarism in the author's essay; besides, the plan and the language are decidedly his own; but Mr. Montgomery freely acknowledges that he has borrowed his plan, as he has headed it with — "Imitated from the Italian of Crescembini." The author cannot, however, but feel thankful that his composition ranks so highly as to be thought on aa equality with one of Mont- gomery's best performances — a man whom the splendid but unhappy Byron pronounces to be "a man of talents." "The Definition of the Soul"— "The Voice of Nature," and other pieces, will speak for themselves. "Chance Blind — or, God the sole Director of the affairs of this world," is said not to be a lame production. It was originally published as "a challenge to any clergyman or any other gentleman," Sfc. Sfc. But the reader will ex- amine for himself. He will discover, in the perusal of these sheets, that the author of the following poems is fond of ruminating on the lives and deaths of the de- ceased; but hopes the variety of sentiment introduced will relieve the mind from a continual sameness. On the whole, while he preserves his pages from that monotony which would be disgusting as it is tiresome, he would observe that the whole of his poems have been written on "the spur of the moment;" nor has he ever had leisure sufiicient to revise one of them, unless it may be in a line, or a word, here and there. He therefore Xll PREFACE. begs the indulgence of the liberal minded and the man ol science. From those who are displeased "they know not why, and care not wherefore," he asks no favors, and he craves no smiles; as he is sure, with gentlemen of such a mould, there is not much honorable dealing! Whether they are dubbed "daily, monthly, or annual" visiters, from them he has long since turned with dis- gust. The author would not presume to say with the inimitable Byron, (whose poetical works have, a day or two since, fallen into his hands,) " 'Tis pleasant, sure, to see one's self in print, A book's a book, although there's nothing in"t!" For he has seen himself in that garb, until it has ceased to excite one pleasurable sentiment, unless the elegance of the type, and the neatness of the letters and the bind- ing, should call for his admiration. For the respectable patronage the author has already received, he feels him- self unable to express his gratitude; and hopes that his patrons' reasonable expectations will not be disappointed; but to those illiberal and cynical souls, who have given themselves no concern, but to predict the matter that will form the author's pages, he makes no other reply, than "Odi profanum vulgiis.* With these remarks, the work is submitted to the author's numerous patrons, and to the world. The book, like its author, must take its chance— die or live! THE AUTHOR, *I hate the profane vulgar. ADDRESS LADIES AND GENTLEMEN OF BALTIMORE. "I had a dream, it wag not aill a dream," ■ As I came here the Car ran out of steam; So then the great machine was forced to stop, Until we got the Steaming Power up!!! But this little circumstance (however trivial it may appear to others) of the steam running out, on the road between Winchester and Charlestown, in Virginia, has been of some use to me ever since; and, I hope it may nave a salutary influence in directing my conduct through future life: for whenever I see an aspiring, intriguing, and time-serving- gentleman, who is willing to serve every body, and to do any thing, provided he may, by such means, serve himself; and, when 1 see this same great man sacrificing his honor and dignity, so that he may keep on the popular side of the question; or, in other words, when I see him standing on the fence, so that he may see on which side he may most safely take the leap, I exclaim within myself — Poor man! I fear you will, eventually, run out of ste:im! 2* XiV ADDRESS. Whenever I hear a politician boasting of what he has achieved, and flattering the people with what he intends to do, to render his supporters happy as individuals, and respectable as a community, by the grant of certain im- munities, I am sure to say to myself — "Quick promisers are generally very slow perfor7ners" — Poor man, you will surely run out of steam! Whenever I see a young man, who buys a great variety of articles on credit, and then immediately marries some waiting fair one, before he has liquidated the claims of either the merchant, the cabinet-maker, or the tailor, I say — It is ten to one, poor young man! if you and your fair one both do not see trouble— for you will run out of steam! Whenever I see a man, who professes religion, but whether he is young or old, has something to say about every body's business, while he does not mind his own, I say — ^h, poor man! your meanness will be detected, and your criminality exposed — you will certainly run out of steam! Whenever I see either a superior, or inferior, who claims the pre-eminence of his brethren, and who seems to say — The ark of the Lord will not move forward, un- less I have the whole management of the concern, I am apt to excliaim — ^h, poor Jehu! the chariot of the Lord will move on gloriously when you are dead and gone — Take care you do not rwQ, out of steam! Whenever I see a man, who sets himself up as an author, and is about to publish a volume of poems, with- out the means to enable him, unless he should meet with many friends, I most passionately exclaim — Poor, honest, simple-hearted soul! you have already put yourself to a ADDRESS. XV great deal of trouble; but you may have much more; — take care, take great care, you do not run out of steam!!! The author has been led to this last reflection, from the consideration that he is about to publish a volume of original poems, himselfj and as he v^^ould deprecate even the very idea of his running out of steam, as an event that would do him an almost incalculable mischief, (see- ing he has lost so much time already,) he begs the good people of Baltimore to aid him in his arduous undertak- ing! He has already received a pretty respectable pa- tronage in several counties, (among whom are gentle- men and ladies of a highly literary character,) but their patronage alone seems not to be sufficient; and, he is led to hope, from the known liberality and generosity of the Ballimoreans, with their dispositioh to encourage works of genius, truly American, that they will not be behind other truly polite and refined ladies and gentlemen, in other places, who have been so good as to favor him with their aid. He is the more emboldened in thus publicly soliciting the patronage jof the citizens of Baltimore, as, he can assure them, that many of his performances are said to possess the most substantial merit; besides, the author would remind them, that he served two successive cam- paigns in the last war, in one of which he volunteered his services (for he might have staid at home) in the year 1814, to defend the city, its inhabitants, and their property, their sons and their daughters, from the vio- lence and insults of the British soldiery. As "one good turn deserves another," he hopes the gentlemen of that place^ — for he feels confident the ladies of Baltimore will not — forget him in his old age, nor forsake him when he XVI ADDRESS. needs their help. He remembered them in the crisis of alarm, in the hour of danger, and not only gave up his domestic comforts for the fatigues of an autumn and winter campaign, but felt willing even to pour out his blood, that their sons and their daughters might, under their own vine, and under their own fig-tree, without any to molest them, enjoy the sweets of future repose, and chant their beloved country in all its rising bright- ness, grandeur, aud glory. «'A word to the wise is suf- ficient." - JOHN C. NEWMAN. May 28th, 1836. MUSIC OF THE MORNING STARS, THE ORIGIN OF THE MUSE; OR, A THEME FOR POETS. Stars of morning, (august throng!) Grand precentors of true song, At th' Almighty's potent call, Sang, and lo, arose this ball! — ^idhor^s Fugitive Essays, Let Dryden sing the days of heathen 'lore. And Pope extol the men and times of yore, Lavish encomiums on each Grecian sage, And eulogize the Romans of their age; Yet, I sing not their mythologic stuff. The Book of God will furnish themes enough; And imagery that Homer cannot yield. Though all his legions gather on the field; Or let the smooth -strained Virgil tune his reed. With Tityrus beneath a beech wide-spread. Of Amaryllis burnt with strange desire To gratify a bestial, lawless fire; Such wanton themes shall not my page disgrace, Nor would I give to vice an angel's face. 18 MUSIC OF THE MORNING STARS. But where then find a hero for my theme? The highest flights of Homer are a dream; And Virgil with his beauties too must yield, Whene'er the ancient Muse comes on the field. Their heathen strains are fables — airy thought. Formed in the brain — from stories half forgot: But if we wish to find the Muse sublime, We must retreat to the first march of time: 'Tis in God's holy book th' account is found. Ere yet were formed the skies, or solid ground; Before Jehovah's arm had launched the spheres, Or time was measured by days, months, and years. The fabled Nine no longer I invoke; Their visionary aid oft ends in smoke. As long projecting chemists' projects do. As false, as helpless, and deceitful too. Descend, eternal Spirit, and inspire My growing numbers with primeval fire. With fire that in the ancient prophet glow'd; When from the altar of the eternal God, The seraph touch 'd his tongue with living coal. And roused the powers of his inmost soul. Teach me to sing the origin of rhyme. And aid my pulse to beat its sacred time; And while I tread a path untrod before. Refine my song, and bid my spirit soar! When first the Morning Stars conceiv'd the plan. That God had form'd to make his creature — man. They bursted forth in strains of holy song. For 'tis to them sublimest themes belong; And thus proceeded this grand symphony. By the sublime precentors of the sky: MUSIC or THE MORNING STARS. 19 "Supreme, eternal, self-existent King! "We need thine aid thy attributes to sing: When we look back 'tis but as yesterday. When essences unorb'd in Thee we lay; Thy goodness gave us being, to proclaim The uncreated glory of Thy name. The first-born sons of light thy being view, Augustly grand, and all-mysterious too; Thy nature is unfathomably bright; — Archangels are confounded by its light; They veil their faces as they sing thy plan. So fraught with love to yet unconscious man. Hail, holy, holy, holy, Triune Lord, By all seraphic grades on high ador'd; The highest sons thou hast, thy goodness share; And we, the first, are thy peculiar care. With gratitude o'erwhelmed our state we view. For though full well the foul revolt we knew. Of Lucifer and his unhappy host. In Thee we stand, our fortress and our boast: ' No sad defections mar thine angel-throng, And thou art. Lord, the burden of their song. Through all our various orders. Lord, we stand A brilliant host, a shining, deathless band. Thy glory fills our otbs, — it is from Thee, That we receive our whole felicity; Nor shall we, as the fiend. Thy light implore. That now returns to his sad bands no moie; — A dread example of thy vengeful ire. Cast on a shoreless sea of curling fire: Nay, Lord — we onward move from height to height Of glory — yet insufierably bright; 20 MUSIC OF THE MORNING STARS. But as we move, thou givest pow'r to gaze On Thy o'erpowering and exhaustless rays. Grade upon grade, as we in order rise, To us, thy Morning Stars that deck Thy skies; Link upon link, in grand succession join'd. The purest seraph leaving far behind; Up to Thy throne, beyond those higher poles, Where boundless, uncreated glory rolls, Thy pure intelligences sing Thy praise, And magnify Thy works and Hud Thy ways: Each in their spheres to Thee unceasing cry — Hail, HOLY, HOLY, HOLY Lord Most High! And we, our dazzling crowns to Thee submit, And thrill'd with rapt'rous awe, fall at Thy feet.'* The heav'nly hosts all joined the melody. And chanted the designs of Deity; So far as He those grand designs made known, To those adoring throngs before His throne; While loud and louder still their numbers swell, And almost charm'd the dark abodes of hell. Those regions border on eternal night. And aie depriv'd of every ray of light: There spectres howl, and angry demons roar — A bottomless abyss without a shore. Broad streams of vivid lightnings nimbly play Athwart the gloom, from the confines of day; While raging tempests beat beneath the sky. On rebel angels destin'd ne'er to die: This is the place that was ordained of old. For him, the first of sinners, we are told. Prompted by pride he led his armies forth, Resolved to take possession of the North; MUSIC OF THE MORNING STARS. 21 "Its sides, henceforth, myself will occupy. For I will equal be to the Most High." Unhappy spirits had but formed their plan. When from th' Eternal Sire fierce lightnings ran. And all the rebel hosts were downward hurl'd. By flaming vengeance to this nether world: Hence Satan's called the power of the air. And, as its prince, he raises tempests there; But God himself presides in every storm. And he directs it in its fiercest form. Th' unhappy spirit would, but cannot reign, For the Almighty binds him with a chain; "Thus far go thou! no farther may'st thou go; I am thy God — and I restrain thy blow." Now Satan heard the harmonies above. In notes symphonious through the expanse move, Apollyon he deputed to inquire What theme the Morning Stars could so inspire. He listen'd; — thus the heavenly concert ran: "Divine benevolence will form a man, Possess'd of pow'r that he may stand alone. And heir the scenes of Eden as his own; A child, like us, of Immortality, As all his vast posterity shall be." Old Chaos heard the soul-enchanting sound — The dark and formless mass became good ground; Each atom join'd its parts, and order rose. With every living shrub, or tree that grows; Now spring to view the verdant lawns and groves. And every object that the poet loves; The babbling stream that ripples through the glade, A cheerful green on either hand display 'd; 22 MUSIC OF THE MORNING STABS. The aromatic herbs and scented plains, Where beauty in a wild profusion reigns; The cloud-capp'd mountain and the humbler hill, Enliven'd by the sound of "whip-poor-will;" With plants indigenous to every clime. And birds whose notes with morning seem to chime: Those feather'd songsters tune their warbling notes, While through the balmy air the music floats. The tow'ring eagle and the grov'ling beast. Stand not in need of any erring priest. Nor do they want a preacher to convey, The meaning of their consentaneous lay; For from the Mammoth to Leviathan, Which first were under the control of man, Dow^n to the coiling snake, or vmthing worm, All praised the Lord, each in its diff'rent form. The waters too arrested in their course. With liquid lapse repair to one great source; For ere this time they had been scatter'd wide. Nor did a channel their rude streams divide. The lightnings all that hurtle* through the sky. And carry swift destruction as they fly. Were harmless then; and thunders roU'd the base, That fiU'd the void in heaven's unbounded space. But first of all, from the dark womb of Night, Sprang the celestial creature, God call'd Light; Duly attemper'd and its nature fix'd, And with discordant principles unmix'd. But while the Morning Stars protract their song, And the cherubic hosts the theme prolong, * To make a noise like tiie nimliliiig of wheels. See Bailey's and other old Lexicons. MUSIC OF THE MORNING STARS. 23 Those blazing comets wonted long to range,, (a) Attracted were by sounds sublijnely strange, And sweetly drawn, leap'd in their orbs again. To join the chorus of the heavenly train. The Sun emerg'd from the dark mass of Night, And beam'd refulgent with full rays of Light; The Morning blush'd to see so grand a scene. And all the skies shone beauteous and serene. The Moon too issued from her gloomy bed. And with a paler lustre show'd her head: But Night, delighted by the attractiv^e lay. Blew up her latent sparks to form a day; Hence, after twilight, ditf 'rent forms arise. And shine and glitter through the lofty skies; But still when Night her glory has unfurl 'd, A solemn silence reigns around the world; And with her awful splendor still she's Night; Nor can she vie with God's first creature — Light: Yet are her efforts much to be admir'd; Her scenes a Young and Milton too inspir'd; And Addison, with a symphonious tongue, In strains immortal has her glories sung. The Moon, astounded at displays so bright, Begg'd from the Sun some rays of solar light. That she might shine the glooms of Night away. And add her share of glory to the Day: So Night herself 's indebted to the Sun, For nearly half the grandeur she puts on. To grace this grand, inelfable display, Jehovah, rising on the Seventh Day, Paused — for a moment — to complete his plan. And said, to finish all, — "Let us make man;" 24 MUSIC OF THE MORNING STARS. So breath 'd in fragile clay the breath of lives; Hence, after death, a deathless part survives. Now, the Almighty, taking a survey Of Adam's lonely, but exquisite clay. Thought it not good for man alone to be. And form'd a mate for his society: The lovely one was taken from his side, 1 Clay twice refin'd — our father's future bride; 1. Th' attractive form by closest ties allied! j Connected not by interest alone — Part of himself — a near and useful bone; Flesh of his flesh, and blood of his own blood. United in the firmest bonds they stood. Though liable to fall, they might have stood Against satanic wiles, still pure and good; But they abus'd their power of agency, As in the sequel will unfolded be. Now Satan heard the music of the spheres, And soon his hatred to his God appears; For while the Morning Stars together sung. And the vast concave with God's praises rung, Adam was lull'd — and Eve began to sing. Melodious praises to the Eternal King; And so delightful was the heavenly song, Our mother sang His praises all day long: But Satan envied her this happiness. And wish'd to make her great enjoyments less; To thwart the counsels of the Trinity, And plunge her race in endless misery. Somewhere in Eastern climes there was a place, The seat of favor and surprising grace; MUSIC OF THE MORNING STARS. 'Twas Eden called, the garden of the Lord, With all delicious fruits and viands stored; But in the midst thereof there grew a tree, The taste of which brought death on you and me! This deathfui fruit, man was forbidd'n to eat; But Satan told our mother 'twas a treat: "Eat freely then, and like a God you'll be, And goodness know from all iniquity: Your Maker would not wish you to be wise. Lest, as himself, you claim your native skies." Eve stopp'd her song to listen to his speech. And put herself within the serpent's reach; As the ill-fated bird that sees the snaj-e, But does not dream of mischief lurking there: She ate; — and thus, in a few moments' time, Convey'd her sorrows to each age and clime; For her remotest children feel the pain. And temp'ral death to latest time shall reign. Adam was not deceived; but O, he fell! Success attended the finesse of hell; For ah! his eyes were opened, and he found. That now he walk'd on interdicted ground. Creation's harmonies were now impair'd; And O, discordant sounds were often heard: The Earth in frightful chasms open'd wide. And groan'd, as though an universe had died; While jEtna and Vesuvius belch'd out flame. And deeply testified to Adam's shame. The trembling mountains left their rugged base, And cragged rocks lift a projecting face: The ocean too, that had been still before. Rouses his billows with tremendous roajs* 3* 25 26 MUSIC OF THE MORNING STARS. And awful surges on his rock-bound side. Cast back their echoes to the swelling tide. The fearful breakers lift their whiten'd wings. As to the foaming surf the white-cap clings. The winds now gather rage, and roar, and sweep. In dreadful whirlwinds o'er the briny deep; While loud tornados drive along the plain, And scour the land and yell upon the main. The order of the Sun, the Moon, the Earth, Are now inverted almost from their birth; The Moon, at times, obscures Sol's golden face, And tarnishes his beams in mid-day race: Earth casts his shade between us and the Moon, And darkness follows each strange movement soon; Thus Sun and Moon remind us of the Day, When our fore-parents bartered bliss away; When for an apple they their birth-right sold. As many now who barter heav'n for gold. When first th' Almighty form'd this varied globe, The sun-beams clothed its face as one broad robe; But so deranged is Nature's order now. Astronomers can scarcely tell us how. Or where, the Sun will throw his golden ray. For here 'tis night; and there 'tis perfect day. Here we Eire fann'd by th' odorif 'rous breeze. While there the sons of Nova Zembia freeze; And for six months, on Greenland's icy plains. The brumal monarch in stern horror reigns. The earth is cut in four unequal parts. Which comfort, burn, or freeze ten thousand hearts. In A file's burning soil, the darken'd race. Are alter'd in complexion, form, and face; MUSIC OF THE MORNING STARS, 2? So that some men of letters would contend. That heav'n had form'd them for the basest end; That they possess 'd not father Adam's blood, But as the link 'twixt man and monkey stood; Or that, at best, those of the torrid zone. Were of a diff'rent stamp, and stood alone; But facts refute this base-spun theory. And show that they have souls as well as we. But to return: — The subject to pursue — How sad inverted Nature now to view! Heat in the Torrid reigns, the most intense. Cold in the Frigid, which benumbs the sense; But ere offending man transgress'd God's law. This Earth was blest as that which Adam saw! Ere Adam's fall there were no floods of rain; A gentle mist then fertilized the plain; And every part of earth did then produce A growth spontaneous, for our parent's use. Now bursting clouds spout cataracts of rain. And sweep off trees, and grass, and soil, and grain; While corn and rye, design'd for common use. Are fiU'd with an inebriating juice: (b) By which Earth's later sons, for sake of gain. Have drench'd the lands and their ten thousands slain! Hence near some sought-out spring, or gentle rill. We see that copper monster, termed — a stili,! (c) Where pints, and quarts, and gallons too, are sold. To poison men for paltry bits of gold. The lightnings toe, against the earth conspire. And clouds, with hideous cracks, discharge their fire; While borne before the all -prostrating storm, Their floating drapery takes a fearful form. 28 MUSIC OF THE MORNING STARS. In short, the elements, and death, and hell. Now fret, and roar, and rage, and war, and swell; Break their establish'd bounds, and deal out pain. And speak aloud — "God is displeased with Man!" The lion and the leopard, now imbued With a ferocious nature, seek for blood; And birds and beasts upon each other prey. While all appear intent to harm or slay. But most of all, man suifers by his crime, And murders take a stand in early time; For Adam's first-born son his brother slew. And crafty wretches multiplied and grew. The Earth a seat of violence became, And, Sodom-like, they gloried in their shame; Until Jehovah, vex'd at deeds so base, Resolv'd to extirpate the human race. But Noah was a perfect man, and just, And in the Lord he placed unshaken trust: To him did God reveal His awful plan. His firm resolve to sweep off wretched Man: But, in great mercy, told his servant, "Make An ark, in which thou shalt thy family take; (d) And when I send the all-o'erwhelming tide. In safety on its billows thou shalt ride." The ark was made. — 'Twas by the plan Divine; And in the whole what grace and justice shine! The bad were sever 'd from the righteous few. And swept away in one promisc'ous crew. But lo! the long mock'd day at length appears. When Justice claims of Man its grand arrears; The low'ring clouds now scud along the sky. And growling thunders speak the tempest nigh; MUSIC OF THE WTORNING STARS. 29 The liglitning-'s vivid flash shines i-ouncl the vi^orld, And globes of fire are through the darkness hurl'd: The Earth, disparting, gushes out with streams. And men and women fly with fearful screams; But, vain is help! the wat'ry deluge pours, And far and near the wide -spread ruin roars: For reservoirs of water, from above. In large and swift-descending volumes move; The barriers of the deep are torn away, And earth and heav'n join the grand display. In fearful torrents see the floods arise. And tumble in vast waves around the skies; For, lo! the mountains hide their lofty peaks, And not an intervening twig the billows breaks — Above the mountains — *ifteen cubits high,* And in the wat'ry waste what millions die! But see good Noah and his happy few, Ride on the waves secure and cheerful too; — Upborne aloft, until at God's command, On Ararat his floating timbers stand! Of every living soul beneath the sky. All, in this gen'ral inundation, die; And io! none but the number eight is found. To cultivate the soil and till the ground: But so prodigiously men multiply. The earth is peopled soon both far and nigh; But ah! the monster — Sin — uprear'd its head, And gather'd power as the people spread: For Nimrod now upon the earth appears; And man, in pride, the Tower of Babel rears; *A cubit, 22 inches; 15 by 22=3:30 feet! Great God! who would not dread thy vengeance? 30 MUSIC OF THE MORNING STARS. The power of the Highest he defies, And thought his edifice should reach the skies; For still, as yet, the people were but one, And greater deeds than now could then be done. But God Almighty mark'd their vain design. And bade confusion o'er them stretch her line; Their language was confounded— and the thought Of their projected building came to nought! Thus God confutes the wisdom of the wise; And thus man's schemes while in formation dies. The very thing they fear'd was brought about; While diff'rent nations take a diff'rent route: Some migrate to the East, some to the West, ^ As dift' 'rent birds and beasts repair to rest; ^ But in the whole God's wisdom stands confess'd. J One instance more of wickedness in man. Will show how deep the dread contagion ran: Two spacious cities stood upon the plain. Where not one trace of man doth now remain; Th' inhabitants indulged in bestial vice, So that their hateful crime to heaven cries; But still, upon that foul, devoted spot. There dwelt one righteous man — his name was Lot. His righteous soul was vex'd from day to da}^. By their unhallow'd and corruptive way; Hence, the Almighty, in his holy ire, Rain'd on those plains a general flood of fire: From heav'n th' impet'ous show'r of sulphur came. And set those cities in a mighty flame; And now, where Sodom and Gomorrah stood. The lake Asphaltes rolls its pitchy flood. MUSIC OF THE MORNING STARS. 31 To Abraham the secret was reveal'd. Who pray'd the will of God might be repeal'd. If, peradventure, righteous ten were found Upon that wicked, death-devoted ground: But, O! it seems that angel-eyes, in vain, Look'd out for ten on that sin-harden 'd plain; For Lot, his wife, and daughters two were found. And these alone in all the cities round. The latter, dwelling in so foul a place, Seem to have caught the spirit of that race: Remember the defection of Lot's wife. And other acts that stigmatiz'd his life. Those facts remain on the Divine record. Lest we, like Lot, should sin against the Lord. At length, when all the cities seemed at ease, And not a leaf how rustled in the breeze; When th' eastern sun rose beautifully bright. And flush'd the heavens with his golden light; While Lot yet linger'd, and the air was still. And angels led him onward to the hill; Just, on a sudden, black wing'd tempests rise. And streams of lightning blaze athwart the skies; The air is thicken'd with the rolling smoke. And storms of sulphur all the ether choke; While rending thunders drown the hue-and-cry Of wretched victims doom'd by God to die! The angel, leading Lot and his slow wife. Said — "Tarry not; but now escape for life; Look not behind thee — ^to the mountain fly. Lest in the teeming ruin thou should'st die!" But O! Lot's wife the injunction disobey 'd. And for her sin was an example made: 32 MUSIC OF THE MORNING STARS. Th' encrusting show'r her feeble limbs encase, And long she occupied a certain place; A sad memento of her overthrow, And all that she so much esteem'd below. But let us now return, to take a view Of Adam's case, for this was wretched too; For by his crime he introduced a void. And harm'ny in the works of God destroy'd. No longer now the Empyrean rung; The Stars of Morning now no longer sung; They mov'd in silence through the vast expanse. And Hell's myrmidons all appear'd to dance! A pause in heaven foUow'd — all was still — And angels sought to know their Maker's will! The Father, rising from His" shining throne, Asked — "Who for fallen man shall now atone? Gabriel, wilt thou lay all thy glory by. And go to yonder world for man to die?" Said Gabriel — "Lord, though I, at thy command, Could overturn the globe by my right hand, And crush ten thousand worlds like that to dust. Yet O, my God! it is too high a trust. Without the shedding of some creature's blood. There can be no remission with my God; And angels. Lord, thou know'st have none to shed, Exemption, therefore, may they justly plead. I am but finite too — no pow'r but thine. No skill can form a project so divine: Not all the angel-pow'rs above, below. Can now avert the force of Satan's blow; If thou. Omnipotent, canst not devise Some scheme of safety — guilty Adam dies!" MUSIC OF THE MORNING STARS. 33 But be astonish'd, Earth! Look down, ye skies; Gaze, O ye Morning Stars, with ail your eyes! The second person in the Trinity, Arose and said — "Be all the blame on Me: I'll die for man, to make his safety sure, — And Hell's dark spirits shall rejoice no more! I w^ill destroy death's formidable dart. And let him glut his malice in my heai't; And by my bitter, last expiring groan. Completely will the King of Death dethrone. I will assume man's nature, hunger, thirst, And then, at last, die on a tree accurs'd; But, on the third day, I in pow'r will rise. And thus ascend up to my Father's joys: There, stand for ever as man's great High Priest, Until he enters my eternal rest." The father spoke: — "I now accept the price — I yield to give my Son a sacrifice;" "Then," said the Holy Ghost, "I too will join. To seal man's pardon as conjointly mine!" The Mighty God now hail'd the new-made pair^ -x "Adam, where art thou? To me draw near, ^ And tell the cause why thou art fill'd with fear." ) "I found that I was naked; — for the wife Thou gavest me, to be my mate through life, Gave me the fruit of that forbidden tree. And brought me to the helpless state you see!" "Adam — because thou hast so badly done, In labor shall thy troubled moments run; Thy bread by sweat and toil thou shalt obtain. And all thy days be liable to pain. 4 34 MUSIC OF THE MORNING STARS. Thy partner's sorrows shall be multiplied. And death, at last, th' unhappy pair divide: For henceforth, thou shalt be from Eden driv'n. Lest thou transgress again the laws of heav'n; A double flaming sword shall guard the place. And drive thee forth into the wilderness: Nevertheless, if thou wilt now obey, I've open'd up a new and living way; Thou may'st be sav'd through Christ, my only Son, And pardon'd for the deed thou now hast done." Now, when the Morning Stars had heard the plan. They sang aloud, the Love of God to Man; — "Good will from heav'n to men; abounding peace — Reign on the earth, and never, never cease!" To pious shepherds on fair Bethl'em's plain. Was first announc'd the great Messiah's reign, When, at the midnight hour, a seraph bright. Descended with unnuraber'd rays of light. That o'er the plains in arrowy circles spread. As peerless as the rainbow round his head. "Fear not, said he, the joyful tidings hear, Let lands that lay in darkness lend an ear; Glad tidings to the world aloud proclaim, Messiah's born — and Jesus is His name! To-day he makes his visit, man, to you. But not in pomp as earthly monarchs do; For, lo! his bed in yonder manger stands. The King of Kings is wrapp'd in swaddling bands: Go and salute the Sovereign of the skies. And with the Magi let your praises rise: To him they now their costly off^'rings bring, And, low, adore their Prophet, Priest, and King. MUSIC OF THE MORNING STARS. 35 They've seen His Star — it guides their wand'ring feet. They've found the place of Israel's God's retreat. Hark! now with heavenly sounds the welkin rings, A countless multitude the chorus sings: "Glory to God in heaven's heights be giv'n, Peace and good will descend to man from heav'n! The Savior's born to cancel human guilt. For man, for favor'd man, His blood is spilt; Let Adam's fallen race His praise proclaim. And sing the matchless glory of his name." But O! the skies with far less lustre shone. And all the starry hosts put mourning on; But when they heard the soul-reviving plan. They twinkled praise to Him who bled for man. The Moon, that formerly had shone so bright, Refus'd to shine but with a varied light; Hence, once a month, she veils her silver face. As if to mourn for man's rebellious race, And once a month she shines with full orb'd rays. As a just tribute to Redeeming Grace. The Sun, abash'd at such an awful sight. No longer shone with more than half his light; And thus address'd the Moon, with silver ray, "Go — rule the night, and I will rule the day: Thus will we shine and sing with one consent. Till Time's now fluctuating term is spent: But since the Son His life for man has giv'n. So that he yet may raise and sing in heav'n. We'll move in silence through the vast expanse. And lead the Planets in their lofty dance. The sat'llites, too, that on our orbs attend. Shall speak His praise till time itself shall end; 36 MUSIC OF THE MORNING STARS. And though no real voice be heard, the spheres Shall sing to latest days in Reason*s ears, And to all lands this blessed truth proclaim, A God alone could build so grand a frame! The surging sea, in his eternal roar, The beaten rocks along his shelly shore; The silent calm that on his bosom rests. When halcyons brood in safety on their nests; (e) His billows when, at times, toss'd mountain high By angry winds, that in a murmur die; All then shall join to speak His worthy praise. Who bears so long with man's unhallow'd ways." Hence, then, we find the Music of the Spheres, Has been continued near six thousand years; And yet how long they shall remain to sing. Is only known to Heav'ns Eternal King. But now you have an humble poet's views. Of the first great origin of the Muse; And should some abler pen my thoughts succeed, Man's future race may bless him for the deed. NOTES ON THE MUSIC OF THE MORNING STARS. (a) It is the opinion of some grf>at men tiiat the comets which sometimes make their appearance, and "From their horrid hair, Shake pestilence and war." are stars which have probably left their orbits, and now wander through the regions of illimitable space. From their well known and stated returns, at different periods, I am inclined to believe the AlmigTity has appended them to the planetary system for some pur- poses of whicli we know nothing until he shall be pleased to re- veal them; or until the increasing light of science shall have solved the enigma. It is certainly an extravagant and absurd notion to suppose, those comets are half formed worlds ia a chaotic state, as this would go to argue that the great Architect of the universe had commenced a system, which he wanted either the wisdom or the power to finish. Others with more plausibility, suppose that the stated returns of those apparently eccentrical stars, are to supply the still decreasing moisture of the earth. This may be the fact, or it may not — it is but conjecture at the best. I have my doubts of all those theories which cannot afford a mathematical demon- stration. As far as philosophy agrees with the Bible, so far am I reconciled to her dogmas. (b) Are fill'd with an inebriating juice, &c. It may admit of dispute whether this assertion be philosophically correct or not; for it has been said that the grain does not possess any poisonous quality until it is tortured into poison by the chemi- cal process of distillation; but to this we reply — previous to the fall of man, no plant, no vegetable, nor any thing beside, could have 4* 38 NOTES. had a poisonous or unwholesome nature:^As a part, things were good; and as a whole, they were very good; and so the Almighty pronounced them. (e^ It is the improper use of ardent spirits which the writer condemns. The apostle assures us, "Every creature of God is good, if received 'with thanksgiving and prayer;' " but can that person use ardent spirits "with tlianksgiving and prayer,'' who is in the habit of taking his daily morning dram, as it is called? We think not: for the very use of it, in this common way, has an un- favorable effect upon a man's devotional faculties. (d) The dimensions of Noah's ark were computed as follow: feet. Length of keel, . . 300 Breadth by the midship beam, 50 Depth in the hold, . . .30 So the ark was amply sufficient for every purpose for which it was intended. (e) It has been said by superstitious mariners, that during the incubation of- the halcyon (or king fisher) there is a perfect calm on the bosom of the sea. tons. Its burden as a man-of- war, 4,500 As a merchant ship, 4,736 A RIGHTEOUS CHARACTER DISPLAYED; An Elegiac Eulogium on the Death and Character of the Reverend Lewis Romulos Fechtig, Presiding Elder in the Methodist Episcopal Church, who was called from his ministerial labors and usefulness m the prime of his days — Sept. 25, 1823, Ego seqtior, non jiacihvs equis. '•I shall follow, though not with equal steps/' Fechtig is dead! Thou man of God, farewell! My spirit mourns while on thy death I dwell: But yet, with triumph, I pursue thy flight. Through Faith's fair optics, to the world of light. Mysterious Providence! How sad the blow. That left the church in mourning here below! How Zion mourn'd when our lov'd Fechtig fell. Whose eloquence oft shook the gates of hell! How hard the stroke! How wide the bleeding wound! "Fechtig is dead" — conveys a pensive sound: The hills, the dales, th' afflictive news convey— "Ch-eat Fechtig mingles with his fellow-day." But still, methinks, I hear his pleasing voice. That often made the midnight groves rejoice; That bade the mourner wipe his falling tears, And lull'd his groundless and foreboding fears. 40 A RIGHTEOUS CHARACTER DISPLAYED. How often, when the thousand eyes of night. With twinkling majesty shone full and bright, (While yet the pale-fac'd moon was at low tide, Or faintly glimmer'd on the mountain's side,) I've sat me down beneath the stately oak. Till more than half convinced an angel spoke? C") How rung the coves amid the glaring light {f>) That shone from different strands! (a pleasing sight!) While with a musical but fervent tone, I've heard him plead for sinners at the Throne? In audience with Jehovah, then appear'd The man — and most audacious sinners fear'd; While loud amens to heaven's high concave rung. And hearty prayers from every pious tongue. But see him rise! — Behold what sparkling grace, Ilhimes each feature of his angel-face! With what a solemn air! yet calm — serene — Expressive of that greater calm within. But as exhilirating prospects rise. And scenes of glory pass before his eyes, His manly voice ascends — it takes"its flight. And mingles with the first-born sons of light. As some tall oak that stands above the rest. With a perpetual genial season blest;^ — So Fechtig spread his beauties to the skies, And in his count'iiance bloom 'd a paradise. Ye lifeless orators, whose warmed zeal Can hardly make adoring seraphs feel; Whose strains, though labor'd, are but cold and dry, (c) He was the man for you to copy by! How little profit sermons void of fire, Or those smooth things promulg'd alone for hire^ A RIGHTEOUS CHARACTER DISPLAYED. 41 He was the man! — A model of true zeal. His sermons made the lordly tyrant feel, (d) He plung'd the dagger — Truth — into his heart, And made him groan beneath the painful smart. A son of Thunder and of Comfort too. He kept his awful mission full in view; — Preached with authority, like his dear Lord, And kept back nothing left upon record. Yes, — to his lasting honor, be it said. The golden wedge had not disturb'd his head— A minister fill'd with the Holy Ghost, And Faith, — the Savior was his mighty boast. While others court the honors of the great, 'Twas his to scorn the titles of estate: Fitted by nature to enjoy them all; He all abandon'd at his Master's call — Left his dear home to face the pelting storm — For bleeding Love the coldest heart will warm; And faithful to his great and awful trust. He gather'd souls as iriisers gather dust. He never slumber'd o'er his red-cross shield, But, as a noble vet'ran, kept the field. Arm'd with the spirit's never-failing sword. He fought, in truth, the battles of the Lord, He laboi'd early, and he labor'd late; He thought no service for his God too greatt His soul was honest in the sacred cause; — The tenor of his life deserves applause. Yes; — be it known, great Fechtig's name stood fairj No blemishes his spotless course impair.* Like Caleb, fulhj followed he his Lord, And faithful mem'ries will the fact record. 42 A RIGHTEOUS CHARACTER DISPLAYED. Let no rude hand, unconscious of his worth. Affect to treat with disrespect his birth: — For they, to whom so fine a son was born. Are plac'd, at once, beyond the reach of scorn! Yes, — little ones, with reverence shall say. As Fechtig's parents pass along the way, "There goes the father of that man of God, Who taught mankind to walk the narrow road;" Or — "there is Fechtig's mother! — Matron blest. Thou had'st a son, whose name shall stand confest. Among the men of heav'n-exalted worth. And heaven smil'd upon thee in his birth!" But he is gone! How happy was his flight! Fechtig in death? — It was a glorious sight! What radiant forms attend the bed of death. While Fechtig struggled for immortal breath? To die — he did not die — but nobly lives, ^, And endless being with his God receives. When once his clay-wall house had fallen down. He soar'd and seiz'd a kingdom and a crown. As did his soul from earth to heav'n aspire. The chariots saw ye not? — The wheels of fire? The mighty steeds that cleft th' opposing wind. When he his earthly mantle dropp'd behind? If ye have caught it, bind that mantle fast About your breast, and keep it to the last. So that a double share of grace be sent. To those who stay as when Elijah went. A waiting ministerial host, convoy Th' immortal Fechtig to the realms of joy: The Savior bids him welcome to the skies. And cherubs hail him with sweet symphonies. A RIGHTEOUS CHARACTER DISPLAYED. 43 "Enter," says Jesus; — "share that vast reward. And live for ever happy in thy Lord: To endless ages sing that great new song. While 'glory' dwells on thy seraphic tongue." His -harp is tun'd! — Cherubic legions round. Catch higher bliss at its extatic sound: Adoring throngs with greater awe adore, As Fechtig sings the Lamb for evermore — The Larab who eist on Calv'ry's bloody brow. His head beneath a world of guilt did bow. But who, arising, broke the bars of death, And conquer'd all the grisly powers beneath; So Fechtig died! — He conquer'd when he fell, And rose triumphant over death and hell: But while he shall to endless ages shine, Tht HONOR and the vict'ry. Lord, be thine! 'Twas thou, my God, who mad'st his soul to glow With heav'nly warmth, to bless the world below: 'Twas thou did'st light his tongue with quick'ning flame, And taught mankind to bow at Jesus's name, (e) What though no sculptur'd marble mark his head? Legions of angels guard his dusty bed;^— And though the mountains be on oceans tost. And earth torn piecemeal in the tempest lost. Yet, not one atom of his sleeping clay. Shall want its fellow on that awful day — But raisM, renew'd, and modell'd all divine. Shall in the likeness of Immanuel shine . What though no bronze immortalize his name. Nor speak his M'orth? — Jehovah is the same: The death of Saints is precious in his sight. And He will register his soul's delight. 44 A RIGHTEOUS CHARACTER DISPLAYED. Fechtig farewell! I mourn the Church's loss, Yet hail the vict'ries of the Great Red Cross: Though thou art gone, thy God can raise up more. And spread his glory to each distant shore. Fechtig, farewell! Ere long the trump shall sound. And rouse the slumb'ring tenants under ground; Whilst thou, upstarting from thy peaceful bed, Shall rise with endless glory on thy head: — A body nimble as the light'ning beams. When from the chambers of the East it gleams — Immortaliz'd and freed from mortal things. Thou shalt receive a seraph's golden wings. Thy body, fitted for thy vasty soul, ■ Shall range those blessed climes without control; The King of Kings in beauty thou shalt see. And shout his praise to all eternity. O blessed day, that calls his exiles home, That cleaves the sky and wakes the general doom! His servants then, of every sect shall meet. And lay their laurels at the conq'ror's feet. Their differences then will all subside. And happy while eternal ages glide. They all shall join, in love-enkindled lays, And chant aloud their common Savior's praise. Come, then, my God, to longing eyes appear. And scatter blessings on thy people here! Roll the reproach from Zion's bleeding door, And call and send ten thousand preachers more With Fechtig's spirit, so the world may fall. Before the cross, and own thee Lord of all. Yes; — Fechtig's love to man was unconfin'd; — It reach'd to diff'rent sects — to all mankind: He FELT, he spoke, he liv'd the truths he taught. As conscious of the worth of souls the Lord had bought. A r.IGHTEOUS CHAKACTER DISPLAYED. 45 Go, reader, tread the paths that Fechtig trod, ^ And thou shalt reic^n eternally with God! But lo! by faith Isee a shining band, With palms of vict'ry in each deathless hand; In robes of spotless white they are array'd; They march in cheerful columns wide display'd: To Salem's peaceful gates they bend their way; On golden harps how joyfully they play! Their hopes, their fears, their num'rous griefs subside, Nor time, nor death, can kindred souls divide. With songs they enter the celestial gates; The blessed Jesus their arrival waits: Each raptur'd saint proclaims the Savior's praise. While anjels strike their sweetest, noblest lays. See, now, a form majestically bright, (His figure proves he is a son of light,) With lightning speed the deathless band draws near, And speaks aloud, "My brethren, welcome here! I'm glad to meet your faithful souls at last; The storm is o'er — the doubtful conflict's past! Here pilgrims rest, nor heave one mournful sigh; Here pleasures undescribed shall never die! When at a distance I had bade adieu. To all below, I hop'd to meet with you." 'Tis Fechtig speaks! His converts know his voice, And rushing to his arms, they all rejoice; But still they give the glory to the Lamb, Through v/hom they all to that blest region came. In tenements not subject to decay, Cloth'd with a nobler house than that of clay; In firmer bonds they walk the climes above, And pluck the fruits of Jesu's dying love. 46 A RIGHTEOUS CHARACTER DISPLAYED. happy union and perennial ties. Not death dissolves the kindred of the skies! And they who serve the Lord with holy fear, Shall meet an ample compensation there. Fechtig farewell! When this poor house of clay Shall sink into a ruinous decay, 1 hope my happy soul shall meet with thine, To sing, in notes symphonious, love divine! But ah! how far my notes shall fall below The strains that in thy raptur'd bosom glow: But I'm content, if I but gain a seat Among the thrones of saints, at Fechtig's feet! Yes — precious Savior! — if thou art but near. Thy presence shall dispel all gloomy fear; And though not as superior grades I shine, I shall be blest to count his triumphs mine. Hallelujah! For the Lord God Omnipotent reigneth! NOTES ON A RIGHTEOUS CHARACTER DISPLAYED. (a) Till more than half convinced, &c. "" The Rev. Mr. Fechtig's voice was peculiarly pleasing and harmo- nious. The author of these lines looks back with the most cheer- ing, yet melancholy reflections, on those golden moments when he enjoyed the advantages of the ministry of that great man of God:— cheering, because, he was strengthened and edified by his labors; but melancholy, since that period is past forever; but "he, being dead, yet speaketh." "Blessed are the dead who die in the Lord!" (b) How rung the coves amid the glaring light, &c. The open firmament, bespangled with its thousand brilliant stars, which glitter through the midnight gloom; — the moon walking in her brightness along the ethereal way; the various lights, situated at given distances, through the verdant grove; the voice of heaven- inspired music; and, to which may be added, the strains of a lively orator, (and such was Fechtig,) dealing out the word of eternal life, all unite to form a scene more grand, solemn, and majestic, than the author is able to describe. But alas! tliose tones of our beloved brother are hushed forever in the silence of the grave. Reader, will the Lord raise up another Fechtig to intercede between thy God and thee? Then fly, quickly fly to that "blood that speaketh better things than the blood of Abel." It now speaks in thy be- half before tlie throne. Haste to Jesus! There is mercy and salvation there! (c) Whose strains, though labor 'd, are but cold and dry. &c. The author does not wish to cast any personal reflections on those denominations who see proper to give their ministers a stated salary. 48 NOTE.S. Ministers of the Gospel are entitled to a genteel support;— for "the workman is worthy of his meat." But how many have monopo- lized the word, and made the Gospel a machine for amassing wealth, regardless of their awful ci;arge? It was a saying of one of our venerable reformers, that "hell is paved with priests, as far as from Calais to Dover." But let me not dishearten that noble set of men, who "count not their lives dear unto them,'' but spend their sweat, their blood and tears, in the cause of the Redeemer. "His heritage they toil to clear, And cultivate linmanuel's land." Such characters deserve our highest veneration; and whatever their names may be, or let them belong to what peculiar sect they may, yet God looks on them with delight; and, ere long, will amply reward their "labor of love." (d) His sermons made the lordly tyrant feel, &c. This assertion was exemplified in a sermon, which the Rev. Mr. Fechtig preached at a camp meeting in *****, when a certain gentleman arose, and, with some warmth, very impolitely inter- rupted the preacher as well as the audii nee. The Reverend Mr. Fechtig, perhaps, probed his wound too deeply! (e) And taught mankind to bow at Jesu's name, &c. When Mr. Fechtig was preaching at N. R. a certain man, "who was a sinner," was laid prostrate on the earth, under the influence of the word:— he arose, with some difficulty, and scrambled away as quick as possible. "7%ere is a man," said Mr. Fechtig, "who would now obtain religion, if he would but yield to the operations of the spirit of God." The man, who was the subject of this work, in a subsequent conversation with a religious friend, who communicated it to me, observed, "previous to my falling to the earth," (such was the remorse of his conscience,) "I plainly dis- covered streams of fire, proceeding from Fechtig's mouth, and darting to each individual through the congregation. I could not withstand the force with which he spoke, and involuntarily fell to the earth." That great and good man, the Rev. George Whitefield, gives us an account of an affair somewhat similar to the above cir- cumstance. He tells us, when he was preaching in a grave yard, NOTES. 49 at Moorefields, (England,) he discovered a large, bold looking man, standing on a tomb-stone, above the rest of the congregation: "I looked sternly at him," said Mr. Whitefield, and cried aloud, "come down, you rebel, and submit to God!'' He instantly fell, as if shot, and did not arise from the earth until I had reasons to be- lieve he was savingly turned to God. But, perhaps, I have gone too far. I shall be accused of enthusiasm, superstition, and fanati- cism. If, however, I may be a subject of those blessed operations, of which Mr. Whitefield has so successfully talked, and about which his illustrious friend, John Wesley, has so powerfully preached, then^et the world mock on! — I am contented. &a THE VOICE OF NATURE. See the star be-spangled sky, And those brilliant orbs on high; As in ether each one floats. Sing they not the softest notes? Hear their music as they roll; — Do they not inform thy soul. That their Maker is divine. In whom brighter glories shine? See yon vivid lightning dart! Awes it not thy thoughtless heart? Hear loud rumbling thunders roll, Hoarsely grumbling to each pole! Do these no information give. Nor teach vain mortals how to live? They but inform — 'tis all they can! — "There is a God that reigns o'er man!" When from the black-wing'd clouds on high. The rocking, roarirrg whirlwinds fly. The forests groan beneath his nod; The raging tempest speaks — "A God'" "A God!" the bending trees reply; — See His vibrating lightnings fly; — The lofty mountains humbly nod, The thunders bellow — "Tkere^sa God!" 51 THE MEMORIAL OF THE JUST. Sacred to the memory of the Reverend Enoch George, Bishop of the Methodist Episcopal Church, who departed this life, August 24th, 1828, ill the 62d year of his age, gloriously triumphing over all the powers of darkness. The righteous shall be had in everlasting remembrance. Holy Writ. Let others sing of glitt'ring spears and shields. Of furbish'd swords and desolating fields; Where tyrant kings havedrench'd the earth with gore, And legions fell and heroes liv'd no more: Or let Columbian bards attune the lay, And sing the bloody revolution day; — Those patriotic souls with ardor fir'd. Who on the heights of Bunker's Hill expir'd; Or deeds of the far gi-eater Washington, Whose fame extends to the remotest sun; I chose a nobler theme; — the men who cross'd The cloud-capp'd mountains, to retrieve the lost; Who spread the triumph of Immanuel's name. And teach the savage heart with love to flame; That band I sing, which now so long has stood. In firmest phalanx, obstinately good; Lavish of life, Immanuel's land they clear, And thus their fruit to full perfection bear. 52 MEMORIAL OF THE JUST. Those men I chant who earth and ocean cross. And, for their Lord, count earthly gain but loss; Renounce their homes, and face the pelting storm. To meet insults and shame in every form, From those who know not their illustrious birth, And never raise their thoughts above the earth. Such men have an imperishable name. Though not enroll'd in the fair book of fame; Their deeds are registered in worlds on high, Recorded in the archives of the sky. George was a leader of this martial band; And in the front with harness did he stand: His breast-piece was a plate of righteousness; His feet were shod, prepar'd with gospel-peace. His helmet full salvation was; his shield Was faith, through which he still mantain'd the field: He walk'd with loins begirt with Scripture-truth; The Spirit's sword he wielded from his youth: It was a two-edg'd blade, of temper keen, It sunder'd 'twixt the sinner and his sin. He supplications made and pray'd all prayer. And watch 'd thereto that he might persevere; Thus did he put the heavenly armor on, And mark'd the steps in which his Master run; For had he laid this panoply aside. He knew some evil might his soul betide. His foes were num'rous and malignant too — But grace will always bear the faithful through. He had not to contend with flesh and blood. But thrones and powers, once the sons of God; Who still some trace of ancient pomp retain; But hate the light and spurn Messiah's reign: MEMORIAL OF THE JUST. 53 The rulers of the darkness of this world, From se.its of bliss by flaming vengeance hurl'd; Who nov/ usurp a spiritual reign O'er man; and thus, by fraud, their cause maintain. George fought with these — He fought them o'er and o'er; For Satan vexes whom he can't devour: But George withstood his wiles: — each fiery dart Was quench'd, through faith, in Jesu's bleeding heart; Exulting in the grace his God had bought, He soar'd and tasted joys surpassing thought. O could my laboring mind to mortals tell. The solid joy with which his breast did swell. When he proclaim'd the glory of that place. Where Jesus manifests his largest grace! But, 0! it overpowers a soul like mine, To dwell on themes so wondrously Divine: What heights and depths of love did he express? He was indeed, a prodigy of grace! But mournful news!^ — My aged friend is gone: He sings, and shines, and shouts around the throne: But I am left to grovel here below. And struggle with accumulated woe. Say, did you see the Spirit in its flight? I mark'dits course; I ?aw the convoy bright; From Salem's happy land that convoy came; They bore his spirit in a car of flame!* I heard the wheels — I saw the chariot roll; The very sound sheds glory through my soul! The fiery steeds have cleft yon azure blue; I gaze — adore — and long to follow toolf *See 2 Kings, chap, ii, 11. fS Kings, ii, 12. 54 MEMORIAL OF THE JUST. The everlasting doors admittance give, And Jesus cries, "George, enter in and live! Lay off thy old, thy weather-beaten frame, And join the Saints in praises to my name. Ere long I shall a second time appear, To shed fresh glory on my members there: They who have lov'd and serv'd my cause below. Shall then with youth and grace immortal glow; Shine with new charms, and to their glad surprize. In my all glorious form they shall arise, And beam with beauty, (prodigies of grace! ) And see their God and Savior face to face. Here I will lead ray ransom'd people forth. To living streams of still increasing worth; • To pastures ever green they shall repair, And I, the Lord, will be their Shepherd here. No sickness now shall lay his pallid hand Upon the subjects of this healthful land; Eut death and sorrow shall be done away. And pleasure flow through one eternal day. Here too are scenes of permanent delight, And glory upon glory strikes the sight; For faith and hope in full fruition cease. And all is calm, substantial, endless peace. Come then, my son, my heir to joys divine, A throne, a kingdom, and a crown are thine: Enter my rest, thou blessed of the Lord, And take thy free, thy rich, immense reward!" All heaven shouts; the saints renew the strain: The chorus rolls through all th' ethereal plain; The blood-wash'd throng now clap their golden wings. And shout the praises of the King of kings. MEMORIAL OF THE JUST. 55 See, George is there! He tunes his harp anew. To praise the arm that brought him safely through. His vast desires find full and rich employ; He drinks of rivers of eternal joy. happy, happy place! Thou blest abode. Founded and built by the Eternal God! I'm lost! o'ervv^helm'd by the confounding rays. And turn me from th' insufferable blaze. All hail! ye soldiers of the great red cross; With you, I count the world as filthy dross; 1 see your labors, and your steps pursue; If I can't shine as bright, I'll sing with you! Ye aged vet'rans of the cross go on; Your toils and sufi'rings here will soon be done. The Lord will send his chariot pav'd with love. And take you to your endless home above. I travel, though but slowly, after you; But hope to rise and sing with angels too; Among your radiant thrones, or at your feet. My bliss shall be eternal and complete. Adieu, dear George! — Thy triumph's so divine, I long in that immortal choir to join; Then while below I will begin the song. And shout to Jesus as I march along! Young preachers, who have lately grasp 'd the sword, Gird up and fight the battles of the Lord: \ noise is heard among the mulb'rry trees;* TO forward, and improve the om'nous breeze. iTour captain is before! He leads the van. •le gives the vict'ry to a single man! *See Bible History. 66 MEMORIAL OF THE JUST. Fear not your foes, though now in dread array; For with your captain you shall win the day. Be diligent; still watching unto prayer; The end of all created things is near. With tempest and with fire great Jah shall come; The trump shall sound — "Return, ye exiles home!' O glorious period! what has Jesus bought? A rest for me, surpassing highest thought; The grand magnificence of earth is poor, Corapar'd with this! — and yet — I sue for more! My God! — I beg my favor'd eyes may see, The man who bled for George — who died for me;" That I may join in that exalted strain, "Salvation, Glory, Praise to God! Amen!" Amen, I cry, as from my inmost soul: may the Gospel fly from pole to pole; Till heathen tribes shall see millenial day, And glory blaze through North America. CHANCE BLIND; OR, GOD THE SOLE DIRECTOR OF THE AFFAIRS OF THIS WORLD. Go, thoughtless man, and read Th' existence of a God, In ev'ry single seed That peeps forth from the sod: Both heav'n, and earth, and air, and sea, Declare there must a first cause be. CHANCE BLIND. 57 The earth on which we tread. With living atoms fraught; The hand, the heart, the head. Display design, forethought; Contrivance deep; surpassing skill, Such as Blind Chance ne'er can or will. How sprang this globe to form? Were atoms blindly hurl'd To being by a storm? — Did this produce a world? Go, Atheist, blush — if you can — Asham'd to own yourself a man. Old ocean, in his roar. The living God bespeaks; The surge and shelly shore, The billow as it breaks; — These speak his awful majesty; A volume wrote to you anpl me. The wonder of the deep A volume large displays; The millions there that creep. And all the finny race; But more than all Leviathan, Proclaims His power to ev'ry man! When old Vesuvius roars. And vomits fiery flame; When melted lava pours A dreadful liquid stream; — Who checks the awful burning flood, Or bids it roll where towns once stood? 6 58 CHANCE BLIND. When earthquakes shake the ground. And forked lightnings fly; When thunders bellow round, And clouds enshroud the sky; — Who gives the thunderbolt its aim. Or niakes the groaning earthquake tame? When hurricanes and storms. O'er towns and nations sweep. In all their dreadful forms. Who bids destruction sleep? Who curbs, alike, the wind and rain, And makes the tempest still again? When plagues infest the land. And wars and famine rage; Who gives the dread command That these shall all engage To lay a haughty nation low? — Is it Blind Chance that gives the blow? But what supports this ball. The globe on which we tread? Who fashion'd nature's hall. And hung those lamps o'erhead? Who spread yon sparkling canopy, Or bade those lights in order fly? Who bade the blazing sun To shed his genial ray? — To distant nations run And light and heat convey? If Chance did this, 'tis very odd; — But call Him Chance — I call Him God? CHANCE BLIND. 59 Who gives the sea his bounds, And points the sun his way? Marks to the moon her rounds. And bids the stars obey? So in some thousand years not one Has quit the course that first it run? 'Tis God! — all nature cries; Reason a God proclaims; — "Revere Him and be wise; Adore his awful names; His Majesty's exceeding great; He is a being uncreate." But revelation speaks; She tells me — "God is nigh;" My inmost spirit quakes, Lest His dread vengeance fly, And, for my follies, strike me dead, With endless curses on my head. But mercy speaks again; — My terrors all are flown! — "For man he gave to pain His only darling Son: He died for all the human race; His love would all mankind embrace!" Lord, all my soul obeys ; To this retreat I fly; Then should thine anger raise. Justice shall pass me by; I shelter in thy only Son; Forgive me for what He has done; 60 THE SPREAD OF THE GOSPEL. Here shall ray feet abide; I know no other way. Be thou, Lord, my guide, Nor let my footsteps stray: Thy love to me shall wonders show. More than dull atheists ever know. When they shall shrink and die, And sun and moon decay; When stars shall leave the sky. And nature melt away; Not Chance, but GOD shall have the praise. While I adore His wondrous ways. THE SPREAD OF THE GOSPEL. PART I. A VOICE is heard in distant lands, And Ethiop stretches forth her hands; She waits upon the living God, And spreads his gracious name abroad. Finland the Gospel-beams has felt; Siberia too begins to melt; And Otaheite's far distant isle. Is favor'd with a Savior's smile. Bussia and India are awake. And of the Gospel feast partake: Why should our nerves be yet unstrung. When these of Jesu's love have sung? THE SPREAD OF THE GOSPEL. 61 What cheering scenes rise to our view; How pleasant and how lively too! We feel no more the chilling blast; For winter's frigid reign is past! The rain is over now, and gone; We feel the warm and quick'ning sun; The flowers on the earth appear. And birds lead on the joyful year. We hear the turtle's charming voice. And souls in Jesu's love rejoice; The heavy clouds have flown away, And darkness yields to Gospel-day. PART II. Zion extends her borders too; The landscape widens to the view; Her converts to her courts repair. And worship God with holy fear. Now Salem's harps are on the string. While to the passing breeze they fling Their sweet and vaiied melody. To celebrate the One in Three. New life has fill'd both east and west; They fly for shelter to His breast; They find the new and living way, Now open to eternal day. The golden chain, let from above. Cemented by a Savior's love. Still longer grows, and must embrace, The whole of Adam's fallen race! Yes — bless the Lord! — it reaches now/ From Massachusetts to Moscow; 6* 62 LINES. From Labrador to Calcutta, Extends the blessed Gospel day. ' Where e'er is heard the Gospel sound, The graces flourish and abound; Heathens revere the Clmstian's name. Their spirit, hopes, and views, the same! O may they all together grow, (A building fitly framed below,) Into a temple of the Lord, » And find in him their vast reward. LINES, Inscribed to the memory of Otho Sheetz, a pious and useful member of the Presbyterian Church, who departed this life De- cember 11th, 1832, rieaf Flushing, Belmont county, Ohio. Otho, thou friend of God and man, adieu; With tears thy "mystic flight" we now pursue; We trace thy course beyond the milky way, Where thou shalt shine a star in endless dayl Thou wast a man of God. — The heavenly breath Had rais'd thy soul from sense, and sin, and death; Thy faith was brilliant, and thy witness bright. Of joys to come, and heaven's unfailing light. Thy soul was fraught with human excellence. Benevolence, philanthropy, and plain good sense; Let Flushing weep, with all her richest store. For Belmont yields such pomp for death no more! Farewell, dear friend! — triumphant in thy death. Thou own'dst thy Savior with thy latest breath. LINES. 63 And O, thy Savior shall acknowledge thee His lawful heir; and thou a king shalt be! "What though no marble marks the mournful spot. Where thou shalt be in future years forgot? Thy name stands on the archives of the sky; Thy humble worth is register'd on high! I weep for thee; but O, I weep with hope; Thou art, before thy friends, to Christ caught up; Thou hast but gone a little while before; We soon shall hail thee on that peaceful shore. Though long afflictions mark'd thy latter day, And wore the comforts of thy life away. Thou wast not comfortless; for pow'r divine Appear'd upon thy happy soul to shine! Ah, had mine eyes beheld thy dying scene. Without a veil of flesh to intervene. What seraphs had I seen around thy bed? What forms angelic till thy spirit fled! Adieu, my friend; thou hadst a safe convoy From racking pains to everlasting joy; Angels convey'd thee on their golden wings. And now thou reignest with the King of kings! No wat'ry humors now corrupt thy blood. Or sap the juices of life's tender flood; But, deck'd with youth, immortal vigor now. Shall bloom forever on thy deathless brow! 'Tis true — thy frame is laid beneath the sod. Thy soul's gone up to see thy Father — God; So for awhile thy spirit is disjoined From that frail flesh, which thou hast left behind: But when these shadows shall have flown away. And Gabriel's trump proclaims the judgment day. 64 LINES. Thy flesh, sown in corruption, shall arise, And, from'all dregs refin'd, ascend the skies. No longer wilt thou feel the dying throe; For thou shalt leave mortality below; Then subtle as the nimble lightning's fire. Thy frame shall be immortal as its Sire! No seeds of sickness, sorrow, pain, or death. So thickly scattered in the world beneath. Shall find a place; — but near thy Savior's breast, In his eternal glory thou shalt rest. Hark! 'tis the judgment-trump! See — Jesus comes! Death's iron sleep is broke I rent are the tombs! The pious dead in Christ shall first arise; See! — Otho bursts the tomb and mounts the skies! Immortal hallelujahs to our King! We rise; and songs of triumph we shall sing; The righteous shall not always sleep below; It was thy wisdom. Lord, that made it so! Widow! bereft of comfort the most dear. Of him whom next to God thou loved'st here; Check sorrow's flood, impatient of restraint; Thy Otho lives and shines a deathless saint! Or, if thou still must grieve, O be resign'd; His Father to thy children will be kind; A husband He to widows in distress; A father to the child that's fatherless! Children! Thy father waits for thee above; He waits to clasp thee in the arms of love; O choose his God and make his portion thine; Then thou shalt say, "The kingdom too is mine!" Till then in hope still let thy spirit rest; The spirit has pronounc'd thy father blest; THE HANGING ROCKS. 65 O trace his steps; — his num'rous virtues trace, Then shalt thou see thy father face to face! Till then, dear friend, we say — a short adieu; We hope to rise and be as angels too; Ere long the Lord shall cleave yon azure sky. And take us up to join our friends on high. Come, Lord, and throw this shattered world aside; O send thy fiery chariots for thy bride; O now proclaim the long, grand jubilee. And let us reign in heaven. Lord, with Thee! Sic Esto! (So be it!) THE HANGING ROCKS. There is a remarkable and stupendous mass of rocks on the South Branch of Potomac, in Hampshire county, four and a half miles below Romney, called "The Hanging Rocks," some of the highest masses of which appear to project almost immediately over the traveller's head. At a time when scattering clouds are swiftly flying over, it appears as if those rocks were about to be precipitated on your head, and more than once alarmed the author, who was not, at first, aware of the rapid motion of the clouds. On one of those occasions, the author's fears, on reflection, having subsided, he sat down on one of the fragments below, and composed the fol. lowing Stanzas: — God of nature! how tremendous Does this mass of rocks appear? How they hang — a work stupendous — Balanc'd in the yielding air! What detains them in their bases. With the pond'rous part above? Will they not start from their places? See! their tops begin to move! 66 THE PLACE OF THE SOUL. Be not frighted; — 'tis the motion Of the clouds beneath the sky; They are trav'lling to the ocean. Or to get a fresh supply. They will bring a wat'ry treasure, And the face of things renew; Man, look on these scenes with pleasure; Rocks and clouds were form'd for you!" THE PLACE OF THE SOUL. Go ask the clay, "Where is the soul! The mass inactive is and dead; The limbs no more its acts control; — Where has the immortal spirit fled?" Go ask the mourner when the tear. Gushing and warm, bedews his face; — ■ "Where is the soul? — It is not here; Alas! 'tis gone to its own place." Go ask the envelope of wood. That now surrounds the house of clay; It speaks in language understood; — "The vital spark has passed away!" Go ask the solemn letter'd bust; — It proudly rises o'er the grave; — It speaks aloud — "Vain man is dust. And none from death's cold grasp can save.' *I am aware thai Mr. Pope very beautifully contradicts this sen- timent, but his theory is as false as his language is pretty. DEFINITION OF THE SOUL. 67 The sullen marble stands alone, A witness of the stubborn truth; — We read it on the sculptur'd stone. That death spares neither age nor youth. But stone nor marble tell us where The deathless soul has winged its flight: — Then ask the w^orm that revels there, In that abode of constant night. The silent worm makes na reply; — Deaf is the grass, the clay, the sod; — A voice from Heaven passes by. Listen! — "The soul is with its God!" DEFINITION OF THE SOUL. What is the soul — that deathless thing? Half-transcript of the Deity? What seraph shall its essence sing. Or who describe its form to me? It is all life, all ear, all eye; Exquisite feeling,— nice,— refined; Picture of immortality. Strange offspring of the eternal mind! 68 DEFINITION OF THE SOUL. What is the soul? — 'Tis more than shade; It is a substance all divine, (Which death itself cannot invade,) And God has made that substance mine! An indestructible machine. That can, and does, and will expand; Alone by deathless vision seen. Yet living, it directs my hand! 'Tis capable of pain and grief. Hatred, and hope, and love, and joy; . Perception, scepticism, belief; — But cannot its ow'n self destroy! It has that strange thing we call will; — Possesses self-determining power; By which we move, sit, or stand still. At any given day or hour! It acts not necessarily; For this its Maker ne'er designed; It is in its volitions /rgg, A copy of th' Eternal Mind! What is the soul? — abuse it not, — It is an all-tremendous thing. Lest when confined to some sad spot. Thou feel an everlasting sting! 69 ADDRESS TO THE SUN. PARAPHRASED FROM OSSIAN. Who art thou of golden hue, Rolling in thy bed of blue? Round as is my father's shield. Whence the beams that thou dost yield? Whence thy everlasting light, Scatt'ring all the shades of night? Coming from the eastern sky, In thine awful majesty; Thy full beauties quench the stars, And the moon no more appears; Both, as conscious of thy worth. Hide their dimmer beams from earth. See each star has hid its head, Venus' brighter lamp has fled; And the moon has found a grave In the low, blue western wave! Cold and pale, there must she lie, Till the evening greets the sky. But thou, O resplendent sun, Movest gloriously alone; Who shall thy companion be In the heavens, earth, or sea? Who thy journey shall attend. Or say when thy race shall end? See the oaks prostrated fall, Time, or tempests ruin all; 70 ADDRESS TO THK SUN. Mountains too, by years, decay, And the ocean wastes away; Or, if it should grow again, As the moon 'tis soon in wane. But thou, Sun, art still the same; Undiminished is thy flame; Thou rejoicest in thy force, In the brightness of thy course. When the world grows dark with storms. Nature's all sublimes t forms; When the grumbling thunders roll, Striking terror to the soul; .. When the forked lightnings fly, And proclaim that God is nigh; Then thou showest thy fair form, And thou laughest at the storm! But thou lookest forth in vain; For thy beams renew my pain. Now thou tremblest at the west. In thy lovely golden vest; But no more thy yellow hair Calls my fixed attention there. Ah, thou art, perhaps like me; Thou shalt for a season be; In a wilderness of clouds, Gabriel's call thy light enshrouds. Careless of the morning's voice. Thou no longer shalt rejoice; Time shall seal thy last long sleep. In eternity's vast deep! 71 SWIFTNESS OF TIME, AND CERTAINTY OF DEATH. Swift as the thread wraps round the reel, Swift as the new gear'd spinning wheel; Swift as an eagle in the skies. Swift as the Indian arrow flies; Swift as the shuttle in the loom, ,.' So swift we travel to the tomb! Swift as the falling drops of rain. Swift as the billows on the main; Swift as the ship sails on the sea. Swift as she turns about to lee; Swift as the mounting paper kite. So swift shall we be out of sight; Swift as the blush of morning's dawn. Swift as the streaks of day come on; Swift as the visions round my bed. Swift as the dream that leaves my head; , Swift as the cat leaps on its prey. So swift shall death bear us awayl Swift as the misty vapor flies. Swift as its gloom o'erspreads the skies; Swift as the blustry winds are o'er. Swift as the tempests cease to roar, Swift as the rainbow spans the sky, So swift may we be called to die! Swift as the sun speeds on his flight. Swift as the moon we saw last night; 72 SWIFTNESS OF TIME. Swift as the year that rolls away, Swift as the month, the week, the day. Swift as return of day and night. So swift we wing our onward flight ! Swift as eternity rolls on. Swift as those ages long by-gone; Swift as the archangel's trumpet's sound. Swift as it rends the gloom profound; Swift as the resurrection day, So swift does nature pass away! Swift as the dead in myriads rise. Swift as the flames ascend the skies; Swift as the judgment throne is set. Swift as we hear — -what's not heard yet; Swift as we know our future doom. So swift we all are going home! Swift as we hear the sound, "depart," Swift as it strikes the guilty heart; Swift a? the tone of "Come, ye blest," Swift as we enter into rest; Swift as the pains of death and hell, So swift, if good, with God we'll dwell! Swift as the joys of heaven roll. Swift as its bliss matures my soul; Swift as the pangs of endless woe. Swift as the bad to hell must go; Swift as eternal ages fly, So swift will saint and sinner die! If time thus swiftly passes on. If we so swiftly shall be gone; If heaven the righteous shall obtain. If hell's designed for wicked men; How careful should I always be, That I may reign, my God, with Thee! 73 FOR THE 4th DAY OF JULY, 1835. With songs of exultation. We praise the Savior's name; The sound rings through the nation, And fans the sacred flame: Tell, tell, the hallowed story. To earth's remotest bound; Our famed ancestors' glory Is an inspiring sound. The bright'ning streaks of morning, Proclaim the approaching day, Let tyrants take the warning. And cast their crowns away; For lo, the tree of freedom Has taken a deep root. And blessings, as we need them. From her fair branches shoot. Then we will toast our sages. And sing of Washington; While to the end of ages. Their bright'Hing names shall run; But chiefly we will praise Him, Who gave our nation birth; An anthem we will raise Him, Record it, heaven and earth! 7- 74 A black man, called "Uncle Joe" by the children in the neigh- borhood, used to drive the carryall, night and morning, into and out of town; but the writer of this article, having missed him for some weeks, made inquiry what had become of "Uncle Joe," when he was informed that "Uncle Joe" was dead and buried! This occa- sion produced the following STANZAS. The carryall comes with rumbling speed. And children full of glee; But in the field, nor on the road, Nor down the lane is he! It passes and repasses too; They go so merrily; But in the mead nor on the lawn, Nor in the cot is he! The carryall is empty now. No more of Joe I see; — What has become of that old man, Who drove so merrily? He was and is; but now is not;-— The fate of all you see; — The white man must obey the call; — Death call'd him secretly! We are to-day; — to-morrow die; — The call may come for me; But O, push not that day from thought; — For death may come for thee! STANZAS. 75 My children, think on old Joe's death, Though in full health you be; You cannot say when is the time, The hearse may come for thee! STANZAS, SACRED TO THE MEMORY OF MISS A. b*****1 If youth could turn aside the shafts of death, Or worth intrinsic blunt the fatal dart; Angelica had still prolonged her breath, To solace long her tender parent's heart! But he that orders all things for the best, Has called her from the evil yet to come; 'Tis well; she sooner gains her heavenly rest. And earlier bears her sheaves rejoicing home. Go young Angelica! — 'Tis Jesus calls; Go share the gloiy of the rising day; For immortality shall ba thy walls, — A house impregnable to all decay! Adieu; — thy mortal flesh in hope shall rest; For angels watch the dark and clammy sod; Until in beauty ail immortal drest, Thy soul and body both return to God. 76 STANZAS, . Sacred to the memory of the Rev. John Emory, D. D, Bishop of the Methodist Episcopal Church, who, it is supposed, was Isilled by being thrown from his barouche, December 16th, 1835. "Blessed are the dead who die in the Lord." "Know ye not, that a great man hath fallen in Israel to-day.^" — Bible. The herald of Jesus is gone to his home, No more amid peril or error to roam;— The angel blew on him with violent breath; The flash of his eye is now darken'd in death! The sheen of his armor was splendid and bright, 'Twas furbish'd and reeking from his recent fight: But low lies his sword, and his cheeks aie all pale; The widows of Zion are loud in their wail. Here rests a great warrior! — How calm his repose! His generous toils ere the year have their close; He sleeps now^ in silence w^ith that sacred band. Who spent their own lives for the good of the land. Though wdnter may lower awhile o'er his tomb, The warm winds shall bring the full spring in its bloom; The flow^ers of summer their branches shall wave O'er those hallowed sods, that grow green near his grave. He needs not the marble his deeds to proclaim; His hist'ry alone will emblazon his name; And high is the niche that he now occupies. Though no sculptur'd bronze o'er his dust should arise. His worth lives within us— we cherish the flame; Our objects, our feelings and viev^s were the same; And though his sun set in a halo of blood, The winds were his chariots to bear him to God! STANZAS. 77 Or did he from earth and its turmoils retire, As one did of old — in a chariot of fire? Those steeds have now cleft the ethereal blue. And, lo! they have borne him up far from our view. Who catches his mantle, let him bind it fast, And wear it around his own breast to the last; Thus shall our Elishas smite Jordan's cold flood, And, like him, pass over and dwell with his God! Hail Em'ry! The harps of fair Salem shall ring. And through the wide heavens their melodies fling; On each passing breeze shall the harmony fly. And notes all symphonious shall float through the skj'! The echoes of heaven the theme shall prolong, And roll back the chorus in eternal song; Glad angels shall greet thee, and hymns they shall sing, And hail the rich trophies of heaven's bright King! O man greatly honored! to earth unconfin'd; Though thou hast left wife, friends, and children behind, We part not forever; — by heaven's own light. We see that bright morning when we shall unite! Thy friends press to meet thee in raptures unknown. And long shall they sing, shine,and shout round th' throne; The praise of the whole shall to Jesus belong; For he is the burden of ev'ry saint's song! Rest then, my dear brother, until that bright daj'. When Gabriel's loud trump shall give life to thy clay; Then shalt thou immortal in vigor arise. And meet all thy friends and thy God in the sk^es. Repine not, 'reft widow and children; — resign Thy husband and father to hands so divine; The trump in the morning will bid him to rise, And then thou shalt greet him with loving surprise. 78 THE RICH MAN AND THE POOR MAN CONTRASTED.* Flatus, the good, the great, is dead; — See, all the tears of sorrow shed; Too much of him cannot be said — He was a rich man! Extol his virtues to the sky; His memory lives — he cannot die; — Say what you please you cannot lie! He was a rich man! The neighbors all will mingle tears. With those of the surviving heirs; — He's gone! he's gone beyond the spheres — He was a rich man! He was a kind and tender mate; His social virtues too were great; His neighbors can his merits state — He was a rich man! He dies lamented much by all; Both high and low will mourn his fall; In short, the man was all in all; — He was a rich man! * Composed after hearing a reverend gentleman preach a good poor man's funeral discourse, in which he did not introduce even he man's name!! , THE RICH MAN AND THE POOR MAN. 79 Our Savior says the rich man died, With all his pageantry and pride; And for him hell is open'd wide; — The scale is turn'd — man! He lifts his eyes in torments dire. In that eternal world of fire. And water vainly did require; The scale is turn'd — mam The man once rich is now so poor, A drink alone he can't procure; And peace and joy return no more; — Pray for the rich — man! DiGNUS is gone! — It matters not; — Had he no virtue? — not a jot! — He scarcely will excite a thought — He was a poor man! Dare not one word of him to say. Lest you offend your fellow-clay; — Go bear him on the bier away; — He was a poor man! He has no heirs to mourn his fall; He was accounted nought by all. Except the few we kinsfolk call — He was a poor man! If he had virtues, let them be; They nothing were to you or me; — He does not claim our sympathy;— He was a poor man! 80 DKATH MAKES NO DISTINCTION. He dies unnotic'd and unknown; His head now rests beneath — no stone! There is the end — let him alone — He was a poor man! The beggar died — but see him rise On angel-wings above the skies; And there the Lord his wants supplies; God bless'd the poor man! On Abra'm's breast he leans his head, And feasts upon celestial bread; He lives! he lives! He is not dead! God bless'd the poor man! He is remov'd from ev'ry pain, And death is his eternal gain; With God he shall forever reign; God bless'd the poor man I DEATH MAKES NO DISTINCTION; Or, the state of the pious poor man preferable to the condition of the impious rich man. Some boast of their possessions great, And all the pomp and pride of state; But one thing's certain,— when I die. Few will possess much more than I. Confin'd to some cold, narrow spot, Six feet of earth will be my lot; While, it may be, just by my side. The rich man rots with all his pride! REASONS WHY I HATE THE DRUM AND TIFE. 81 With boards o'er our unconscious clay. As still as death our limbs shall lay. And wither in the silent grave. The common lot of saint and knave! While some the latter eulogize. And raise the villain to the skies; It may be — God alone can tell — Th' immortal spirit groans in helU The saint unnoticed, turns to dust; For soon forgotten are the just; Yet he is register'd on high, And swells the archives of the sky! O there on ray Redeemer's breast. May my immortal spirit rest; Or else beneath thy feet, dear Lamb, To sing the praises of thy name! REASONS WHY I HATE THE DRUM AND FIFE. I HATE the drum's hoarse rumbling sound. While men are must'ring round and round; It tells of kings in battle slain. Who ne'er shall wear the crown again; Of heroes drenched with purple gore. And legions that shall live no more; Of widow's tears, and oi-phan's groans, And dying men and falling thrones; Of burning towns and ravag'd plains, And mangled limbs, and wounded swains» Of souls without a shelter found, Welt'ring in blood, on the cold ground, Without a friend or partner near. To close their eyes, or shed a tear, 8 82 EPITAPH ON A WEAVER. To soothe their agonizing bed, Or raise their faint and sickly head; If these are the effects of war. Pray, what do men admire it for? I hate the whistling of the fife; It speaks the miseries of life; It tells of cities that are razed, And houses that have fiercely blazed; Of wooden legs, and limping feet. And a whole train of woes complete; Of glitt'ring steel and furbish'd swords. And crested kings, and haughty lords; Of minions vile and tyrant's slaves, And deep dug pits, instead of graves; Of sufferings in all their forms. And rotten carcasses and worms; Of noisome stench and pestilence. That hurries its ten thousands hence; Of famine, and a thousand ills. And surgeon's knives, and doctor's pills: If these be the effects of war. Pray, what do men admire it for? EPITAPH ON A WEAVER. Here lies a weavei- — He has left the loom, To lie alone in this cold darksome tomb; His wai-ping bars are useless; for his woof Against the mighty conqu'ror was not proof: His geers are rotten, and his treadles still; His shuttles all are thrown to their last quill: The web of life's cut out by death's sharp hand, So Grayham'g gone to see some unknown land. S3 ' JUDGMENT. See the starry heavens rending! See the Lord of life descending! Hark, the trump awakes the dead! See the saints of ev'ry nation. Rise with joyful acclamation. Hail Him their triumphant head! It is Jesus! sinners, fear Him; 'Tis your Savior! saints, draw near Him: See the prize He will bestow: — Joys, immortal, life eternal; Nor can all the pow'rs infernal. Drag your ransom'd souls to woe! See the great white throne erected! He who was on earth rejected. Now, a second time descends- Rapid lightnings play before Him; Let the ransom'd all adore Him! Now the whole creation ends. Lo, he manifests the Savior To the subjects of his favor; Come, ye blessed, (hear him say,) Lo! I come for your salvation; — Bid adieu to tribulation; — I will wipe your tears away. 84 GO — READ THE BIBLE. Now they enter into glory; ' Hear them tell the pleasing story Of salvation in the Lord: Hark! the blissful seats of heaven. Loud resound with sins forgiven; Hail, thou great incarnate word! Hail! ye happy, happy spirits! Life eternal each inherits: Sound the praises of his name; Sons of earth join in the chorus; For the precious scenes before us. Hallelujahs to the Lamb! Join us all ye heav'nly powers; For this blessed God is ours; — Bid the tuneful anthem roll, Still with prayer our praises blending. Till his grace in streams descending. Flows through ev'ry blood-bought soul! For His love let rocks and mountains. Purling streams and chrystal fountains, Join the heart inspiring theme! Hallelujah! saints adore Him; Love Him; rev'rence, bow before Him; Praise, all praise belongs to Hira! GO— READ THE BIBLE! Go — read the Bible: — there we see A portrait of the Deity, Drawn by his own unerring hand, So he that reads may understand. GO — READ THE BIBLE. 85 And there, to our amaze, we find The circle of th' Eternal Mind, Enfolding and embracing all His grand designs, ere Adam's fall! But in Eternity's recess. We are not fill'd with wonder less, To see Jehovah, on his throne. Live independent and alone; Before his mighty plastic hand. Had made the seas or form'd the land; Or ere creative energy. Had bade ten thousand systems be! There we see heav'n, although so bright, Dark with his own excessive light; And angels from that glory driv'n By flaming vengeance hurl'd from heav'n. Go — read the Bible; there we see The world as yet in infancy; Nor bird, nor beast, nor plant is found, Nor any man to till the ground. All is a dry and barren land, As naked as Arabia's sand; The earth is void of pleasing green, And nought but light adorns the scene. He speaks: — the landscape now appears; A smiling face creation wears; Spring, summer, winter, and the fall. Unite their various beauties all. Still all is silent to the ear; No humming insects flutter near; When lo, the sea, the air, the earth. All start as into second birth! 8* S8 A YOUNG MAN IN WOMEn's CLOTHES. What songs burst from each verdant grove; AVhat hymns of praise! what tunes of love! While earth abounds with crawling worms. And life in all its thousand forms! Go— read the Bible; there we see, That man offended Deity; And how, by his atrocious fail. He brought a curse upon us all. Go— read the Bible; there we see A gracious, sacred mystery; — A holy and incarnate God, Allied to man— a living clod! See there— a proof of love Divine- He gave his life for yours and mine; And then ascended up on high. Where now he lives no more to die. Then let us raise a holy song, To him divinest strains belong, To celebrate the God of love. Who thus pours blessings from above. O let me love my Bible more. And feel its soul-transforming pow'r; Till I am rais'd, by grace divine. To count its holy triumphs mine! Sic esto! ON SEEING A YOUNG MAN DRESS'd IN WOMEN's CLOTHES. How change both men and manners! the women small- clothes wear; And men now wear the petticoat— to imitate the fair; But as the fashions alter, times may, perhaps, so change, That to next generation it will not seem so strange! 87 THOUGHTS SUGGESTED ON THE FALL OF THE LEAVES. See the leaves around us falling, On the ground they wither'd lie; To eaeh thoughtless mortal calling, "You, alas! must shortly die. But there is a fairer region, Where the trees for ever bloom; Honor, virtue, and religion, Ne'er decline beyond the tomb. There there is a year eternal. Far more brilliant than the rose; Blooming beauty, verdant, vernal, Never, never shall it close. There no frosts or chilling weather. Shall the fruits or blossoms blight; But nfear Jesu's breast together. Flourish in unfading light. Thus, O man! the spring returning, Shall renevsr thy vrasting bloom; See the emblems of that morning, When thy dust shall leave the tomb. Then arise; put on thy beauty; For that fadeless kingdom strive; Love thy God and follow duty; Thus the plants of Eden thrive. 8S FALL OF THE LEAVES. All below is frail and fickle; Old and young drop in the grave; Soon the angels, with the sickle, Will the mighty harvest save." Then, O man, regard the warning; . Be Jehovah all your trust, So in that important morning. When you leave your bed of dust, — • Quicken'd by th' eternal spirit. You shall to that Eden rise. And with all the good inherit Life eternal in the skies. (Then the line of demarkation, Will be by the Savior drawn; - Darkness, death, and desolation, Meet the thoughtless — every one! O be careful, lest thy station, In that doleful place should be, Where the light of his salvation. Ne'er shall shed its beams on thee: As the leaves now fall for ever, Take heed lest thou, thus should'st fail. If thou shouldest lose thy Savior, Know, O man, thou losest all!) 89 "LORD, IF IT BE THEE, BID ME COME TO THEE ON THE WATER!" The foaming billows swell; The waters loudly roar. The tempest's dismal yell Proclaims I'm far from shore; Or soon shall on some rock be cast. Where all my hopes shall sink at last. have I lost my guide, Or am I near no bay. That I so roughly ride, On such a raging sea? Reach out thine arm, O Lord, I cry; Save, or I sink, I fail, I die! Lord, if it should be thee. Bid me walk on the wave; Tell me to come to thee; Thou still hast pow'r to save; Then, though the billows should run high, 1 cannot perish with thee nigh! Alas, I have no skill; Thou my good pilot art, New-mould my stubborn will. And subjugate my heart; Thus when the storm shall highest rise, I shall be nearest to the skies. 90 A PRESENT PROSPECT OF FUTURE BLISS. for a heavenly gale, To waft my vessel on; Then will I spread all sail, And hasten to be gone; 1 long to reach a broader bay, Where moor'd the ships of heaven lay. But Lord, I shall be lost, Unless Thou be my guide; While cruising on life's coast, O keep me near thy side; And if I gain that peaceful shore, I'll praise my pilot evermore! A PRESENT PROSPECT OF FUTURE BLISS. I SEE the crown afar. It glitters through the sky; Faith brings the promis'd kingdom near, And all my murmurs die. My soul is happy now. And Jesus bids me come; The victor's wreathe shall clothe my brow; For grace will bring me home! What is far better still. With Jesus I shall be. Who, by His last, and dying will, Bequeath'd this bliss ta me! With all my friends above, I'll meet before His throne. And shout the triumphs of His love. While endless agres run. 91 REDEMPTION. Praise ye the Lord, ye globes of light. That sparkle near His shining throne; And with your beams divinely bright. Proclaim the wonders He hath done. 'Twas He who formed your noble fires. And bade you in such order shine; In vain my ravish'd soul aspires. To strike a note that's more divine. In vain? — my soul recall the word; Diviner strains I dare assume; I sing the vict'ries of the Lord, Who triumph 'd o'er the teeming tomb! Yes; He who formed those azure skies; And bade those massy planets roll, For man, His favorite creature dies, And thus rescues his fallen soul. Jesus, the Father's only son. Left those fair scenes of bliss above; He sufFer'd for the crimes we've done. That we might taste his Father's love. When we had forfeited all right To thrones, and crowns, and joys on high, It then seem'd good in Jesu's sight, That God should give him up to die. 92 HEAVEN PERMANENT. On Calvary's most tragic brow, Behold thy God, thy Savior hang; He bows his head— 'tis finish'd now, And nature own§ his final pang! But now a new and living way, Is open'd to the realms above; Be this my song: let morn's first ray. And eve's departure sing His love. Adore, my soul, adore the grace; Go; spread thy wants and woes abroad; However sad may be thy case, 'Twill gain redress from thy good God. HEAVEN PERiMANENT. AN ECHO TO MOORE 'S HEAVEN. This life is but an empty show. Though for good purpose given; But in that world to which we go. Our happiness no change shall know: We call that country heaven. Comforts decline and creatures die; Our friends are from us riven; But there's a brighter scene on high; Thither we often lift an eye. And wish and lonsx for heaven! HEAVEN PERMANENT. 9Z Our highest pleasures soon will pall. Or soon from us are riven; All things are tott'ring to their fall; Oblivion will entomb us all; Nothing endures but heaven! Heroes and kings contend for fame; Their prospects all are riven; They fade and die without a name; For earthly glory is a flame That dies^in sight of heaven! Riches take wings — how soon they fly? Honors are from us riven; Soon as those phantoms strike the eye. Their richest colors fade — they die. And leave no hope but heaven! Here we are worn by carking cares. From point to point still driven; But we will bid adieu to fears. And live to everlasting years. Secure with God in heaven. Then let those scenes all roll away. Earth, sea, and sky, be riven; Let comets burn and lightnings play; We hope to see that awful day. And live with God in heaven. The works of art shallall expire. And nature's form be riven; But in that universal fire. Our souls shall join th' angeh'c choir. And sing to God in heaven. 9 94 A WELCOME. Though from the centre to the pole. Created things are riven; Though loud tremendous thunders roll, , Convulsions cannot shake the soul, That lives with God in heaven. Then come, Thou great deliv'rer, come; For thou the word hast given; This vale of tears is not my home; O let my feet no longer roam. But take me up to heaven! WELCOME TO Mr. D. a*******G'S FAMILY INTO THIS COUNTRY FROM IRELAND. Welcome to our peaceful land. Thee I give ray heart and hand; Greet thee on thy passage here. To thy friends and kindred dear. Here, as brothers, we agree. All are on equality; Riches no distinction make; " We love men for merit's sake. We abhor the pomp of kings; Earls and dukes are useless things; Discords wild, and jarrings cease; For we all are "Friends of Peace." Piety, benevolence. Love of man and common sense, A WELCOME. 95 Are the blessings we most prize; We the narrow soul despise. Welcome, emigrants, we say. Welcome to, America; Sit beneath our peaceful vine, Drink our cheering, native wine. No incendiary vile Shall thy property despoil. Burn thy mansion of repose. For we feel a brother's woes. Welcome with thy partner dear. To the various comforts here; Welcome to the asylum Which affords th' oppress'd a home. Welcome with thy family. From the gripe of tyranny; Welcome twice ten thousand more. To our hospitable shore! Here no hostile, servile band; Dare oppress our happy land; For we are republican, And esteem the rights of man. Heavens, bring the hour near. When poor Erin shall appear. Strong to deal the mighty blow. That shall blast th' insulting foe! Gracious Lord, we pray Thee, smile On my father's native Isle; Aid her in a righteous cause. Free her from oppressive laws. On a basis firm, may she E'er maintain true liberty. Till her banner, wide unfurl'd; Waves in triumph through the world. DEDICATION OF THE M. E. CHURCH, IN S****G****D, H. C. Va. Here may the Great Jehovah dwell. And make this house His own ahode; His love inspire our hearts, to tell The boundless goodness of our God. Since thou hast giv'n Thy people heart. To fit for God a sacred house; Do thou, O Lord, to them impart A heart to render thee their vows. Establish all thy children here, Upon the apostolic plan; May faith, benevolenc-e sincere By them be shown to God and man! May love and unity abound. And each in sentiment agree; While all combine to shed around; Religion's. sacred mystery. May crowds of souls disconsolate, With willing steps thy courts attend. And in thy gracious presence wait, Till thou shalt show thyself their friend. O let the sacred flame revive. The fire of pure celestial love; Wound, kill our souls, and make alive, And comfort us, thou Holy Dove! A BACKSLIDER DESCRIBED, 97 Let Jesu's name, as ointment, shed Its heavenly fragrance through the place. And those who now are cold and dead. Feel the enlivening beams of grace. Lord, quicken all our sluggish souls. And point our minds, and lead the way, To scenes where endless glory rolls. To visions of eternal day. Thus cheerfully we'll pass our days. And fearless cross cold Jordan's flood; Our business here be prayer, and praise Our pleasure, till we see our God. THE MELANCHOLY STATE OF A BACKSLI- DER DESCRIBED. PART I. Intoxicating joys of sense. How dost thou wound the mind, ' And with all nobler joys dispense. To leave a sting behind! When frantic revels fill the brain. How dark is all within? The immortal soul's the seat of pain, Of restlessness and sin! From senseless scene to scene we go. And by impure desire. Bring on ourselves a mass of woe, And feed unhallowed fire. 9* 98 A BACKSLIDER DESCRIBED. Our lives, tho' stained with grossest sins, Our eyes refuse to see; We often draw in fairest lines. Our foul idolatry. We shut our ears against the voice Of God and reason too, With thousands make a foolish choice, Nov once our wa}' review. We see ourselves through light divine, But love the world so well. We would not cast OiTone small sin, To save our souls from hell. PART IT. The thunders of Jehovah's pow'r V/e hear, but disregard; For though we hear, in that same hour. We sin against the Lord! If fearful judgments stalk around. Our souls are so deprav'd. We do not tremble at the sound. Nor care if lost or saved! With awfully gigantic stride. We walk the paths to hell; And though its gates are opened wide, Cry out, "1 hope all's well!" If once we lift our hearts to God, 'Tis when afflictions press; And oft we spread our hands abroad. When under some distress. A BACKSLIDER DESCRIBED. 99 But straightway we in sin go on, With an increas'd delight, And into greater mischiefs run, And sin with all our might. Who can describe the awful case In which backsliders rest? Immortal hatred to God's ways. Reigns in the fallen breast. PART III. Such was my case, till grace divine, Beam'd through my unclean cage; I felt, I own'd the pow'r was thine. That freed from Satan's rage. Then let me celebrate thy praise. With ev'ry fleeting breath. Proclaim the mercy of thy ways, And sing thy name in death. Great God, be endless praise to thee, By all the human race: Thy goodness fills immensity, And shines in ev'ry place. ; Thy mercy is as deep as hell, High as the heav'ns above; Thy boundless pity none can tell; For God is only love. He's love; He's love; let every heart, In this sweet strain engage; To sing his love, be this my part. Through all my pilgrimage! 100 TIME. But soon I hope to quit my clay. And soar to worlds above. And sing in an eternal lay, "Jesus, my God, is love." TIME. Time flies on swift, but silent wings; How fast the moments roll! They speak the most important things To ev'ry careless soul: "Down to the trackless, vast abyss, Where days are known no more; But clouds conceal from mortal eyes. Those depths without a shore:" "Thither the sons of men we bear, With each succeeding breath; And soon the stoutest may prepare To meet the stroke of death." Ye heedless souls, their voice regard; 'Tis heaven speaks to you; Now bow before your gracious Lord, And give him glory due. 'Tis he prolongs our guilty days. And bids our moments run; - Else, to his name be all the praise. Our souls had been undone. 101 THE JUDGMENT. Ere long the trump of God shall sound, And bid the nations rise; Unnumbered millions under ground. Shall then ascend the skies. The heav'ns shall bow and earth expire. The stars shall disappear; For God shall send a general fire; And ruin all things here. The sun shall into darkness turn. Nor give his wonted light; The moon in bloody vestments mourn Her loss of paler light. The hidden deeds of sin and shame Shall then he brought to view. And all the lovers of the Lamb, Be safe and happy too. But O, what anguish and despair Shall seize the guilty breast, Deep-loaded with reproach and fear. And banish'd far from rest. Far in those deeps where vengeance reigns. And fiery billows roar. He waits for everlasting pains. When time shall be no moret 102 AN EPISTLE TO M*****L J**N P***R. REFLECTIONS AND ADVICE ON TRUST IN FRGVIDENCE. With cautious eye the world regard, Nor murmur that your lot is hard; O never raise your hopes too high, Or build on aught beneath the sky. All is not fair that seems so pure; There's nothing here firm or secure; But oft when we expect delight, The gilded toy eludes our sight. For disappointments never grieve; We make them: shall we not receive? Why should we be so mortified By our own folly, or our pride? Our passions too, inflict a sore. An evil we can scarce endure; . Pride, folly, passion, all combine To prove we need the aid divine. Man was not made to order all. Or make the winds obey his call; Although he has a spacious soul. Yet grace must rectify the whole. Or sad disorder will ensue. And we shall lose our proper clue; And, what is not a little thing. Passion and pride inflict their sting. We never should be much elate. With any prospect of our state; AN EPISTLE For this will give a sharper pang, To hearts that on the creature hang. Trust not to friends, though all may smile; These may allure you for awhile; Beneath those smiles a heart may lie. That braves the sweetest, tend'rest tie! Trust not professions; these are vain, And only give more pungent pain; Men's fairest words and warmest vows. Will only deeper pangs arouse: Professions, friends, and smiles will fly ■ Whene'er a .threat'ning storm is nigh; They seek a cloudless atmosphere, And chiefly love to revel there! Remember this is but a state That never is, but would be great; Hence, there is a perpetual strife. Between a high and humble life. Would you ascend? Then have due care You are not drawn into a snare; For Vice can never bear to see, A man as great as she would be. A middle state is far the best For those who would enjoy true rest; For wealth is fraught with cank'ring care. And often leads to fell despair. The stem, from whence our comforts shoot, Conceals a worm beneath its root; And riches are an airy thing, That seem forever on the wing. This world is but a boist'rous sea. Where many would your pilot be; 103 104 AN EPISTLE. But never trust to more than one, And let that one be God alone. In times when difficulties rise. When you can see no shore, no skies; JNTo trouble can your soul o'erwhelm. If God should but conduct the helm. Never distrust his guardian care; He is a helper ever near: Draw^ in your canvas from the gale, And then you may in safety sail. No anxious thoughts retain: be stilf. And vv^ait the issue of his will; He will provide: — He wants no friend. Who on his succor doth depend. That God who gave to men their birth. Whose broad eye covers all the earth. Will all his erring creatures feed. And he knows best the things we need. 'Twas He who form'd us in the womb, And he will guide us to the tomb; Then, rather than distrust his care, Let us an Ebenezer rear. He may not give us all we would-, He sees it is not for our good; Perhaps the gift we might abuse. Or put it to improper use; Enhance our guilt, and find at length. Like Samson, we are shorn of strength: Besides, we might more proud become. And thus, forever, fix our .doom! If all our hairs, which are so small. Are, through his goodness, number'd all, SHORTNESS OF HUMAN LIFE. 105 Who then can doubt but what we are The objects of his special care? If the young ravens, when they cry, Find from his hand a rich supply, Shall not his moral image find Him lib'ral, bounteous, and kind? When you were but a little boy. Did Ma forget her prattling joy? Did she forget she had a child. Although eccentrical and wild? No— neither will the God above. Forget the objects of his love: Sooner shall yon vast sea go dry. And sun and moon forsake the sky! THE SHORTNESS OF HUMAN LIFE. ILLUSTRATED BY VARIOUS SIMILES. The moment is here, and the arrow has flown; The day disappears and the shuttle is thrown; The grass is all wither'd and dead at the root; The plant that once budded is nipp'd in the shoot; The dew that once glitter'd has vanish 'd away; The night has departed and clos'd is the day; The dream now has ended; — the vision has fled; The stock that once flourish'd is prostrate and dead; The leaves clothed with verdure have now become brown; The whirlwind has pass'd — it has shaken them down; The rain is all over; — the floods have pass'd by; The clouds have dispers'd and the ground has grown dry; 10 106 SHORTNESS OF HUMAN LIFE. The lily has faded that was in full bloom; The blossom so lovely now gives no perfume; The rainbow is gone aad its colors have fled; The tulip has dropp'd and the marigold's dead; The roses' bright hues have all left the parterre; The flowers have perish'd that once flourish'd there; The nut has grown ripe and is gone to the ground; The hulls now are scatter'd and lie all around; The corn is matur'd and is laid up in store; The fruits are all cover'd — you see them no more: — Such, such is man's life, that soon passes away; — A moment — ^an arrow — a shuttle — a day — A grass that soon withers and dies at the root — A plant that is nipp'd by the frost in its shoot — A dew that exhales with the rays of the sun — A night that's departed — the twilight that's gone — A dream that is ended, a vision just fled — A stalk that once flourish'd — a stalk that is dead — A leaf in its verdure — a leaf become brown — A whirlwind that pass'd it has shaken it dovv^n — A rain that descended— a flood that pass'd by— A cloud that is gone, and a ground that's grown dry- A rainbow, whose colors have faded away — - A tulip that droops — or a marigold gay — A lily now faded, though once in its bloom- - A blossom that gives not its wonted perfume — A rose that has lost all its beauteous hues — A flower now perish'd by cold morning dews — A nut that is fallen and laid on the ground- As hulls that are scattered in parcels around — A corn that is gather'd and laid up in store— A fruit that is cover'd— you see it no more! 107 STANZAS: OCCASIONED BY THE DEPARTURE OF MRS. m'c*Y. Wake creation's harmonies, and tune each living chord, Sing endless hallehijahs to our redeeming Lord; A sister in our Zion has made a safe retreat. To worship with the thousands who fall at Jesu's feet! Through sufF'rings, like her Master, her soul was per- fect made, And though we weep sincerely, we mourn her not as dead; For though her mortal body is to the grave consign'd. Her pure and happy spirit has left all sin behind! How splendid was her triumph the day before she died? She seem'd to view the portals of heaven open'd wide; Hence, in a holy rapture, she long'd to take her flight, Up to the pearly city of everlasting light. Could I have been a witness of her abounding joy. It would have been a pleasure (to me,) without alloy; But as it has so happen'd I did not see that sight, I'll hasten on to meet her in that pure world of light. Though in yon lonely grave-yard her last remains are laid. It cheers me in reflecting that Mary is not d^ad; She lives, and lives forever in that bright world above. And views her Lord and Savior, whotn here her soul did love. My pious friends and brethren, who saw her gasp for breath, And witness'd her great triumph o'er pale and ghastly death. 108 CHRISTMAS. Let us press on to glory; for though she's gone before. How gladly will she hail us on that eternal shore! Hail, thou immortal spirit, thou hast the rest obtain'd; Thou hast receiv'd a kingdom — its glory thou hast gain'd; A crown of fadeless splendor — thy temples shall adorn; I hope to greet thy spirit on that last happy morn! Till then adieu, dear Mary, in sacred slumber rest; Soft be the winds that murmur o'er thy turf-cover'd breast, Angels shall gently wake thee on that decisive day, And whisper — "Rise to glory; my sister, come away!" Now to the great Jehovah be everlasting praise, Who favor'd our dear sister with tokens of his grace; Let us, as she, improve them; so when we fail and die, We shall at last be gather'd to reign with Grod on high. CHRISTMAS. On this auspicious, blessed morn, A babe in Bethlehem was born. In poor and humble habit clad. And meanly in a manger laid. The wise men saw the Eastern Star, And came to worship from afar; They brought their gifts to his retreat, And humbly worship'd at his feet. The shepherds saw the heav'nly light. That shone around in depth of night. And angels heard with joy proclaim, "A Savior's born in Bethlehem. Fear not; Messiah now is born, To suffer shame, reproach, and scorn; LINES. 109 Go; hail his birth with glad acclaim; For Jesus is the infant's name! Jesus is born that man may live, And endless life through him receive; Good will from heaven to men! and peace Now reign on earth and never cease." Jesus has laid his glory by, And lives with men on earth to die; Then raise your highest, noblest songs. And praise him with immortal tongues. Her house is tb^ way to hell, going down to the chambers of death. — Proverbs vii, 27. Cease, pleasure! trouble me no more; Go, haunt the busy brains of men. Who, though arrived to their three-score. Can count, with joy, ill-gotten gain! Sensual delights and shining toys, Can't ease the tortures of the mind; For they afford but transient joys. And always leave a sting behind! They plant with thorns a dying bed. And fill the soul with keenest throes, With secret horror — inward dread — The harbinger of endless woes! Alluring and deceitful bliss. Too oft are men led off by thee; But, ah, they find thy sweetest kiss Attended with great agony. 10* 110 LINES. Though wanton minds may strive to paint Thee queen of all inferior joys, And fondly wish that no restraint, "Were laid on what so much they prize; Yet O, the end, the dreadful end, That waits the wanton soul below; For every step she takes, doth tend To unconceiv'd, eternal woe! Then learn, my feet, to shun the way That leads to her defiled abode; Let not thine eyes tempt thee to stray, Nor walk her God-dishon'ring road. LINES. On M. Stark, a dignified Divine of Augsburg, Germany, asserting that ten black spots were discernible on the sun in the years 1816 and 1817. Astronomers have grown quite wise, . And through their telescopic eyes. What wonders they descr)^; Ten spots, large as a piece of eight. Some confidently now relate, Have black'd the sun's bright eye! Though I'm no great astronomer, My own opinion I prefer, . And think good Monsieur Stark, Has soar'd so long among the stars, That, from the fact, it now appears. He sees best in the dark! EXCELLENCE OF THE BIBLE. Ill Look down ye planets, from the skies, And thou, Sol, gaze with thy ten eye^* On this profound Divine; Now speak, I pray you, if 5'^e can, And tell me if this learned man Is not a son of thine? If so, O take him np again, And let him in your orbs remain, Your wonders to explore; So when he visits us again, He shall renew his former strain, And tell us ten times more! THE SUPERIOR EXCELLENCE OF THE BIBLE. WHEN COMPARED WITH THE WORKS OF MAN. In ev'ry Bible-page we trace. The lustre of Jehovah's face; How pure its precepts! how divine! The Godhead in its op 'nings shine. Demosthenes and Cicero, In language fall far, far below Its simple, unaffected strain; Yet how sublime and grand its chain! A Milton and a Homer yield, When it is brought upon the field; Isaiah and Habakkuk's strain. Make their most labor'd efforts vain! *Those ten black spots in tlie sun. 112 LINES. Euripides and Otway too, Compar'd with it, shrink from the view; Though we their tenderness admire, They cannot equal David's fire: Or let good Jeremiah sing, And mourn the case of Israel's king; Heart- touching pathos then is felt, And all our souls in sorrow melt. Its doctrines elevate the soul. The prevalence of crime control. And mis'ry bows beneath the sway Of wide-diffus'd millennial day! Its Moses and its Paul look down, As from the heights of heaven's throne. Upon the Koran (grov'Uing work!) And pour contempt upon the Turk.* The system of Confucius too, Is mean and trifling to the view; His wretched fabric melts away. Before the blaze of Gospel day. " LINES. On hearing a sceptic say "It would be better for the people if the Bible had been destroyed " Destroy the Bible! bid the sun No more his daily circuit run; Darkness would then resume her seat; — No light would guide the Christian's feet! *Mahomet. EPITAPH. 113 Dark guilt and wretchedness again, Would cower here with all their train; While Nature would give signs of woe. And spread dismay through all below! Destroy my Bible! you destroy The rich man's hope, the poor man's joy; Consign them both to endless doubt, And strike their future prospects out! Destroy the Book! unpeople heav'n! Deprive us of our sins forgiv'n! ' And where our mortal bodies lie. There bury hope — and let her die! Restore the monster, death, his sting, And, what is not a little thing. Consign us to eternal sleep, Or woes unfathomably deep! ' Destroy the Bible! — what is worse, — You make my life the greatest curse, And bury, in one common grave, The fairest views a man can have! EPITAPH ON A BLACKSMITH. WHO DEPARTED THIS LIFE MAY 5th, 1821. Here lies a sturdy Vulcan, who blew a nohle blast; He blew the bellows, often; he now has blown his last: He was a merry fellow, and lov'd a sparkling bowl; Confusion to his enemies — but quiet to his soul! His hammer now is silent; his anvil gives no sound. No more he'll drink his bumper, or sendthe glass around; His smith-work is completed; his business finish 'd too; Let brother smiths come forward and take a lona: adieu. 114 LINES. On the sudden death of Mrs. C****, of C**b"r**'d, Md. What solemn sound invades my ear? It is the tolling bell I hear; ' It speaks a mortal's sudden leap, Into that vast and boundless deep! How quickly did the summons come! How swift her passage to the tomb! How soon was broken life's frail thread! How soon she's number'd with the dead! Thus mortal after mortal dies, And leaves us all in deep surprize; We pause — and then their steps pursue. Forgetting we must follow too. O what shall rouse the careless mind. To leave all earthly cares behind? To build our hopes above the sky, And while we live, prepare to die! May we obey the solemn call; It has a voice to one and all; It bids our trembling spirits flee. And seek a refuge, Lord, in Thee! O help us now to hear thy word. And follow on to know the Lord: Thus we shall in thine image sbare. And for a future state prepare. Great God! the grace, the pow'r is thine; Do thou our stubborn hearts incline ADDKESSED TO GENERAL JACKSON. 115 To yield obedience to thy word, And with due rev'ience serve the Lord. Then when the knell invades our ear. Our hearts will never yield to fear; It will a joyful message be. That bids us live, O Lord, with Thee! TO GENERAL A. JACKSON. On his way to Washington, about to take his seat as Cliief Magis- trate of the Union. Peace to the warrior and the sage, Whose glory gilds Columbia's page; Whose prowess hurl'd the bolts of war, And smote the vassals from afar: His arm has laid the aliens low. And crush'd their phalanx at a blow: All hail — the people's will and choice; We in thy great deserts rejoice: Go — with thy happy household — go; May blessings strew thy way below^; We will hail tha jubilee; — Jackson lives! — We shall be free! There civic honors round thee wait. And ail the pomp and form of state, — The splendid hall, — the stately dome, — The lustre of thy country's home, — The grateful heart, — the friendly hand, — The riches of thy native land, — 116 TO C. M. TH**RE. The aged matron's gen'rous tear. Emitted from an eye sincere: Go — with thy happy household — go; May blessings strew thy way below; We will hail the jubilee; — Jackson lives! — We shall be free! (Sicesto!) TO C. M. TH**RE. On hearing she had embraced the Swedenborgian system- Dear Caroline! — Where is thy lyre? And is it on the willow hung? Have Swedenborgers damp'd thy fire. And drowned the music of thy tongue? Has error taught thy flowing song. To turn her strains another way? In doubtful mazes led along, How vainly shall thy minstrels play! But I will weep some tears for thee; I'll strew my sorrows in thy road; My sister! — no — it cannot be That thou hast yet forsaken God! Shall she who taught the giddy youth, To shun the painful, wiley maze, Be led so far from gospel-truth, — So far estranged from Jesu's ways? TO CM. TH**RE. 117 No; come, my wandering sister, come; My heart is pain 'd— it feels for thee; In Jesu's breast there still is room, For every prodigal and — me! The Spirit and the Bride say, "Come;" And "Come," with all my heart, I cry; Keturn, my wand'ring sister, home; O come and find His mercy's nigh! I will not — cannot give thee o'er; No; thou shalt seek the fold again; My soul shall be refresh'd once more. By stanzas from thy glowing pen! My sister thou, by dearest ties; My sister through a Savior's name; Born from above — wing'd for the skies, With thee I hope to praise the Lamb! And shall this anxious wish be vain? Forbid it. Holy Trinity! Let Caroline renew her strain. And love unite her. Lord, to thee! Then shall she raise her tuneful voice, And emulate the angel-choir; While it shall be my happy choice, To light my taper at her fire. Then we, in unison, shall sing The triumphs of Immanuel's name; To him our humble trophies bring. And shout "Salvation to the Lamb!" 11 118 A TRAGICAL TALE. But if thou stubborn shalt remain, I'll fall at Jesu's feet and pray. That grace may wash thy foulest stain. And take thy broadest blot away„ A TRAGICAL TALE. Luke xvi. My tale is affecting, and tragic, and true; — Come, hear with attention; for it concerns you; The fact is appalling, , and reaches to all. The rich, and the poor, and the great, and the small. That it is a genuine, authentic record. Is fully confirm'd by our Savior and Lord; It treats of a rich man who died very poor; For he lost, forever, his whole worldly store! It seems God had prosper'd his pilgrimage here. And he, perhaps, boasted his thousands a year; His clothing was costly — of the Tyrian dye,— The richest the country could then well supply. Fine linen and purple he wore, we are told. Was richly adorn'd with both silver and gold; His tables were spread with fine viands and fruit. And ev'ry thing nice that the palate might suit. His fare was most sumptuous, our Savior declares; But he had to die and leave all to his heirs; But with so much feasting his prayers were forgot; — The Prophets and Moses— of these he ne'er thought! A TRAGICAL TALE, 119 While he was thus careless, by Jesus 'tis said, A poor helpless beggar was at his gate laid; ,,, The beggar desir'd to have a supply Of this rich man's offals, that daily pass'd by. That these were denied him we cannot be sure; For on this sad subject our Lord says no more; We cannot say whether he got food or not; For ulcers confin'd him, we know, to the spot. His pittance was scanty — of this we are sure; He only desir'd the crumbs and no more; For he could not walk, and therefore, it is said. This poor helpless creature was at his gate laid! The rich man pass'd by him, no doubt, ev'ry day; For some had thus laid this poor man in his way; But this haughty lordling pass'd Lazarus b)''. And on the poor beggar he cast not an eye! But though this poor creature was so much distress'd. That he had no pallet on which he might rest; Though he was neglected by great and by small. The dogs in compassion attended his call. They sooth 'd his afflictions — though they could not cure, They fondled upon him — and they lick'd his sore; Dogs were his physicians — no help could he have; Disease and misfortunes brought him to the grave. But how the scene chang'd when poor Lazarus died; Though men may neglect us, the Lord will provide; He sends the good angels to bring him away. To Abraham's bosom, where all the saints lay. i20 A TRAGICAL TALE. The be