A^>. . >^ '■^. |V , o » o ^ "^ '3 <*- o**-* ^,G^ ^^ EMILY, OTHER POEMS BY J. NEWTON BROWN. Me poetry (or rather notes that aim Feebly and vainly at poetic fame) Employs, shut out from more important views, Fast by the banks of the slow- winding Ouse ; Content, if thus sequestered, I may raise A monitor's though not a poet's praise ; And while I teach an art too little known, To close life wisely, may not waste my own. Cowper. CONCORD, N. H. PUBLISHED BY ISRAEL S. BOYD. 1S40. Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1840^ By J. Newton Brown, In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of New-Hampshire STEREOTYPED AND PRINTED BY D. WATSON, CONCORD, N. H. TO MY CHRISTIAN PASTOR, Who first taught me the two important lessons — that poetic talent, like every other gift of God, imposes upon its possessor a responsibility to cultivate and employ it, in obedience to Hia will, for the benefit of mankind ; — and that, as the world will always continue to read Poetry, so tlie more of Christian Poetry in the world, the better ; — REV. AVERY BRIGGS, A.M., FORMEKLY PROFESSOR OF LANGUAGES IN WATERYILLE COLLEGE, MAINE J NOW PRINCIPAL OF THE PIERCE ACADEMT, MIDDLEBOROUGH, MASS.; THIS VOLUME IS AFFECTIONATELY INSCRIBED BY THE AUTHOR. ADVERTISEMENT. During a lingering but most blessed sick- ness, three years, ago, the author employed such moments of strength as were afforded him, in preparing for the press the present collection of his earlier poems. About one third of them have already appeared before the public in various prints, and been received with a de- gree of approbation, that encourages him to present the rest. It is due both to the public and himself to say, that pieces of the earliest date here given, have been generally re- touched, some retrenched, and some few ex- tended. Another volume, composed of his later poems, is in contemplation. Its appearance will probably depend upon the success of this. In the mean time, the author implores the blessing of Him, ' Whose frown can disappoint the proudest strain, Whose approbation prosper even mine.' JVctD Hampton, June 29, 1840. CONTENTS. Emily Page 9 The Grave of my Parents 20 Christian Consolation 22 The Fall of the Leaf. 24 Night Scene 25 To the Memory of the Rev. Richard Cecil 27 The Thunder Storm 28 A Summer Evening 29 Taste, not Religion 31 The Burning Busli 32 Moral Death 34 Vision of Heaven 36 Christian Conversation 38 The Mustard-Seed 45 To the Author of Don Juan 46 On the Death of Mrs, S 47 Epitaph on Granville Malconi 47 Midnight Thought 48 Creation 49 On the New Year 49 The Sun rising through Clouds 50 The Child of Brading Dale 52 Lines on the sudden Death of Mrs. Jane P 54 To a young Friend, one whom the Author never ex- pected to see again 56 The Friend of God 58 Faith and Sense 60 Gibbon 61 Sunrise 62 Christ's Sufferings and Glory 63 Heaven 67 A Song of Heaven 68 Creation subject to Vanity 70 Sorrow sanctified 72 The Rose and the Evergreen 74 1* VI CONTENTS. To a little Girl 75 Elegy on the Death of Mrs. Mercy Smith 75 The Beauty of Israel 78 Love 79 Music 80 The Burial Ground, Hudson, N. Y 81 Fenelon's four Rules for Preachers 89 The Nativity 82 The Herald of the Lord 85 Kindred Parting 87 The happy Boy 89 Hints to a young Preacher 89 Bp. Lowth's Epitaph on his Daughter,with Translations 90 Annie, Daughter of Prof. Farish, of Cambridge, Eng. . 92 Acrostic 94 The Goodness of God 95 The Greatness of God 95 Youthful Friendship 96 The Consumptive 98 On viewing a Skeleton 102 Mrs. Fry at Newgate 105 The Christian Missionary 109 On the Death of Rev. Edward W. Wheelock 110 The Sun of Righteousness 112 Sympathy 114 On returning from a Journey 115 The Christian's last Conflict 115 Strike the loud Lyre 118 Thoughts at the Grave 120 The Death-Bed Warning of Miss L— W 122 From Zion's Hill 123 Sapphira 124 The Lamb of God 125 The Falls of Niagara 126 To Caroline— an Acrostic .....130 Lines addressed to the Sister of a Female Missionary. .130 Entrance into Heaven 132 On the Death of Mrs. L J 133 On the Death of an aged Christian 134 To the Mother of Lucy Ann 135 To the Sisters of Lucy Ann 136 CONTENTS. Vll Call to Zlon 138 At Communion 139 Epitaph on Mrs. N B 140 The Temptation of Christ 141 Impromptu 142 On hearing the Bell toll for a Stranger '. .143 The Apology 144 Voice of departing Day 145 A Character from real Life 146 The Sabbath Bells 149 Time 150 My Sister 150 The Work of Life 151 The Year of Life 1 53 To Amanda 155 Female Dignity 155 Religion 15G The Fall of Turkey 157 My native Land 158 The Sea of Blood 159 Latin Hymn of Francis Xavier, with Translations 162 Elegy on the Death of my Father and ftlother 165 Adoration 169 Pleasures of Retirement 171 Banks of the Buffalo 172 Visit to my native Place 181 The Church of God 185 To> Sophrona 187 To the Moon 188 Tlie Apostate 192 The dying Sister 192 The Death of Midshipman Robert B. Coffin 194 On the sudden Death of a young Man 196 New Year's Address, for Columbian Centinel, 1822.... 197 New Year's Address, for Hamilton Recorder, 1823 202 Review of the Year 1824 208 The Bard's first Ambition 216 The Mystery of Godliness 217 On a very sudden and affecting Death 219 The Sovereignty of God 220 On Singing 222 VIU CONTENTS. A Husband to his Wife 923 Elegiac Lines 226 Elizabeth 227 A Father's Lament 229 To Adeline 230 To Louisa 231 To Sarah Ann 232 Loveliness of youthful Piety 233 A Father to his Daughter 233 Adelaide 234 The happy Family 236 Messiah's Kingdom 237 The Lord is my Portion 239 HYMNS. Prayer to the Trinity 241 Prayer for the Holy Spirit 242 The King of Terrors 242 The Church in Sardis 243 Self-abasement 244 The Name of Jesus 246 Millennial Triumph 247 Invitation to Christ 248 Efficacy of the Cross. 249 Sufferings of Jesus 250 Redeeming Love 251 The Believer's Burden 252 Complete Safety in Christ 253 A wandering Heart lamented 255 Supplication 256 The Christian Warfare 258 In a Time of Declension 259 Christian Conference 260 Reflections at a Social Meeting 261 POEMS EMILY. A CHERISHED image is before my eyes — The image of a sister whom I loved, With tenderness too deep for earth. Yet I Must speak of her, if I would speak at all. Her early character, and that great change Renewing grace wrought in her youthful soul, To fit her for the service of the skies. These are the themes that fill my heart, and these Must murmur on my lyre ; for they are full Of sweet and mournful music. She was fair, In youth's expanding bloom. Her forai was cast In nature's finest mould. Its gracefulness Drew Admiration's eye and offered hand, — Offered, but unaccepted. On her brow Sat a sweet nobleness, and in her eye, Dark in its brilliancy, intelligence. And filial tenderness, and innocent hope, Shown forth in beauty ; for her soul was rich 10 POEMS. In thought beyond her years. She was the flower Of all her father's family ; the tall And trembling lily of our common pride. And varied in its power. Intuitive Seemed her perception. Science was her joy, And even in its severest forms, to her Still beautiful, and still its own reward. She knew not how to live and not to learn. Reading was recreation ; richer far, In her esteem, than the routine of mirth, Or fashion's knot, or dissipation's whirl. Even to excess she loved it. Night was day In the absorbing pleasure. Her rapt soul Would wander, on Imagination's wings. From things that are, to things which Fancy's hands, Creative, has educed from nothingness. And robed in rich and rainbow coloring. Brilliant but transient, to fill up the void Which this world cannot fill — the void of mind And heart unsatisfied. Illusions sweet Were these, and worthy to be truly cherished. Did they not vanish in the very hour Of the soul's need, or still more cruel, turn The dark and haunting traitors to our peace. O, how unlike Religion's blessed truths. Which open on the soul a glorious world Of intellectual realities, Jn which it is to live, and live forever ! POEMS. 11 Such was my sister — such as I describe — When fifteen suns had shed their summers round her, Adding fresh beauty to her form and mind; The moral richness delicately pure, The coloring of intellectual life. Her name was Emily. And when I hear That name pronounced, a thousand melting thoughts Of her I loved with all a brother's fondness, Gush o'er my memory, and my sad heart Will gather fulness, and at times o'erflow, For she is gone ! Lulled in the sleep from which The light of morn awakes her not — the sleep Which even the known voice of fraternal love, That wont to break in rapture on her ear, Is powerless now to break. PART II. A pensive shade Came o'er my sister's countenance. I saw Her altered manner, and the serious air Of fixed and deep and tender thoughtfulness, The fondness for retirement, and the tear Stealing in silence down her youthful cheek, As if some secret fount of sorrow lay Concealed within her breast. What it might be, As yet I know not. Death had not come nigh, To tlixow his shadow o'er her happiness ; And Disappointment, with his serpent fang. Had not a wound inflicted. Every v/ish Which she could form on earth, was gratified. 12 POEMS. Hope gave its buoyancy, and Health its bloom. Friendship encircled her. Parental love Grew every day more lavish of its smiles. Books proffered still their unexhausted stores, And every spring of past enjoyment poured Its copious streams, as fresh, as sweet, raethought, As when together we had tasted them, And wondered that the world could ask for more. I sought to win her back to cheerfulness By every wonted charm. It was in vain ! Her favorite books awakened no interest — Fiction, and novelty, and eloquence. The fruits of genius, and the flowers of taste, The boasts of wit, the melodies of song. Which once entranced her eye, her ear, her soul, Had lost their power. Deep hid within her heart Some over-mastering principle had changed The order of her feelings, or at least Laid a strong check upon their wonted course. It was in vain to doubt. The cause could now No longer be concealed. The solemn truths Of our CELESTIAL VOLUME had impressed. Indelibly, her long-reluctant mind. I knew not at the time, and could not know, The struggles of her breast. — What were the views Of her condition in the sight of Heaven, Which struck so silently into her soul. And showed her to herself; to what a depth POEMS. 13 They penetrated ; and with what a power Of moral revolution they had wrought, I did not know as since, and faintly felt The grandeur of those interests which engaged Her whole attention. I had then no taste For such inquiries, and I let them pass, For what to me were far more welcome themes. We had been confidants ; but not to me Did she unfold these sorrows, for she knew I could not sympathize nor counsel here. E'en that maternal bosom, where slie leaned Her drooping head, and poured her secret grief, Assured of every soothing sympathy And salutary counsel love could give, Drawn from the stores of large experience, Hallowed by prayer, and breathing strong of hea- ven, — E'en that maternal bosom, faithful, fond. And full of feeling as it was, ne'er knew The intensity of that internal strife That bowed my sister o'er the sacred page, And brought her, wrestling, to the throne of God.* Her's was a Godly sorrow, and it wrought Repentance not to be repented of. * Extract from her MS. Journal : — " Known only to Hira who seeth the heart were my feelings at that period, and indeed through the whole time I have glanced over, with what emotions I searched His word, with what anguish of soul I bowed before hira." 2 14 POEMS, He who came down from heaven, to be to man The Author and the Messenger of Peace, And comfort all that mourn, appointed her Beauty for ashes, and the oil of joy And robes of praise, for thoughts of heaviness j And, faithful to His promises, shed down Upon her bruised spirit such a balm As faith alone receives. It was the hour Of prayer when she received it, and that hour Forever after lived in memory, And in its all-controlling influence. Her soul, which erst had drooped, e'en as a rose Surcharged with rain, again was lifted up To meet the healing Sun of Righteousness, Imbibing deeper and more delicate hues, And sending sweeter fragrance to the skies. How was she changed ! When next again we met The painful heaviness had left her brow, And in its stead a bright serenity Spoke of the peace within. If in her eye A tear would sometimes swell, 'twas rapture's tear; And if a sorrow seemed to linger yet, 'Twas but the tender sympathy of love For those she longed and prayed for, whom she saw Still in the ruin from which she was saved — And such was her anxiety for me. There was an inward majesty of mind, Unlike what I had ever seen before. Mingled with all the sweetness of her love. POEMS. 15 Attractive, yet o'erawlng. 'Twas as though Her mind had looked on everlasting things, And caught the image of their majesty, E'en in the da^^s of youth. It was not pride, For meekness did invest her as a robe. It was a fount of heavenly purity, A deep, deep sense of inward happiness, Forever flowing from unearthly springs. With which her soul seemed full to overflowing, And every feature eloquently gushed. My mind was stirred with agitating thoughts. At intervals, about my sister's change ; Sometimes disposed to think of it with pleasure. And then again with peevishness and pain. She seemed not less, but more, to love me now. Her gentle looks, and tones, and offices, Were far more constant, tender, uniform ; Yet still I felt a strange reluctance oft, Within me, to her sweet society. For now I could not share her happiness As heretofore, when, with congenial taste, Our hearts drank pleasure from the self-same springs Of knowledge, fancy, memory, hope, and joy. To these my heart still clung, as innocent, And, in the judgment of the world, far more Than innocent, as ennobling, and enough. Without devotion's higher mysteries. And talisman of mightier power, to charm 16 POEMS. Life's toilsome way ; and therefore wondered why She should, in leaving them, abandon me ; As though no more a sister, but superior, Claiming companionship with higher ranks, And purer forms of intellectual being. And yet in vain I strove to shut my eyes To the improvement in her character. From what a height, it seemed, she did look down Upon my follies with a pitying eye, And on my sins with grief; as if in them She saw not only my offence, but hers, Long past, against Eternal Holiness ! O'er my forgetfulness of God she grieved — My disobedience and ingratitude — My waste of time — abuse of privilege — Unhallowed tempers — thoughts of vanity — Pride of appearance — pride of intellect, Attainments, social virtues, influence — And, morethan all, o'er talents unemployed For God, and inexcusable neglect (Too visible, alas ! in all I did) Of the yet unprized soul, whose fearful peril She realized too truly. All its worth She saw in its great ransom ; when from heaven The Eternal Son came down, shrouding the blaze Of infinite attributes, to this outcast world, And gave Himself to the all-perfect Law, In our dread place, a spotless sacrifice ! O, it was this self-sacrificinor love POEMS. 17 That stamped its image on my sister's heart I And there were moments I could not but feel It was a real and a lovely change. Old things were passed away. All things were new In her esteem and her experience, Since she in Christ believed, and by his cross Felt the world crucified to her, and saw A new creation in its light arise, Fairer than Eden in its primal bloom, Fixed on the basis of eternity. It was a happy change, I owned, for her, But still I felt no gladdening sympathy. And often in my pride, when she would come, And sitting by me, with a sister's fondness, Throw her soft arm o'er my unwilling neck, And speak to me of Jesus crucified. Until my soul, o'ermastered, bowed beneath Her voice, dissolved in weeping tenderness — Even in the midst of such a scene, how oft I would have torn me from her fond embrace, And scorned the love that moved me so to tears ! As yet the stream of life had gently flowed In the sweet channels of domestic love, Nor knew an interruption. I had dreamed Life was a kind of immortality. But in an awful and unlooked-for hour, A storm burst on this quiet of our home. 2* 18 POEMS. Death came, in quick succession, and removed The father, then the mother, who had watched Over our cherished childhood. In their lives Lovely — and undivided in their death — They left us with their blessings and their prayers, (Inestimable legacies indeed ! Although their worth be little understood,) A group of lonely orphans. Then, O, then, I first awoke from error's flattering dream. To feel the stern realities of life ! Stung suddenly by the repeated stroke, My heart was fearfully wound up to curse The Holy Hand which had inflicted it — The Holy Hand which woundeth but to heal ! For it did seem to me that I was made A solitary and selected mark Of unprovoked and wanton cruelty. Such was the madness of my bitter thoughts, In that dark hour of horror, O, forgive. Father in heaven ! the inward blasphemy Of my rebellious passions. How unlike To this the bearing of my sister dear. Under the awful shock ! To the cold grave She followed all her gentle spirit loved, (And none could love more deeply,) sorrowing With sweet, submissive faith, and holy hope, And earnest prayer, to be herself prepared To do the work of life, till she might be POEMS. 19 Fit to depart from earth, and follow them To their eternal rest and joy in heaven. There came a separation ; and a year, A long, long year of absence passed away, Ere I again beheld her. In that time My soul had found the Savior she adored, And joined in adoration. When we met. It was as we had never loved before j Our hearts were knit in new, celestial ties. And every hope was shared in unison, And every sorrow mingled. Arm in arm We visited the sacred spot where slept The ashes of our parents, and reviewed The soothing memory of their pious worth. Instructions, and examples ; till it seemed To weeping fancy, as the day's last beam Fell on us with a sweet solemnity, Their yet fond spirits gently hovered near. And blessed the scene ! Or, to the house of God, When summoned on the silent Sabbath morn, Taking sweet counsel, walked in company. To bow our hearts in worship, and to blend Our souls and voices in the song of praise, To drink divine instruction, and put on The habitudes and spirit of that world. Where vv^e had fixed our everlasting rest. 20 POEMS. But I muist cease. Those graves, that house of God, I visit sad and solitary now ! ^»n7 29, 1824— 7. THE GRAVE OF MY PARENTS. The bed of my parents is narrow and deep, Yet soft is their slumber, and sweet is their sleep ; Their children in vain o'er their damp pillow weep, And utter their sorrows mournfully. The pastor lies pillowed in dust by their side. To whom in close friendship their hearts were allied ; But in youth he afar from his relatives died. And there he reposes peacefully.* * The Rev. Hervet Jenks, A. M. The author seizes with pleasure the opportunity here afforded of noticing this excellent man and minister of Christ, who, to the deep regret of multi- tudes of every class in the community, was cut down as a flower, at the age of 28 years. He was a native of Stockbridge, Mass., a graduate of Brown University, and for two years the fondly beloved pastor of the Baptist church in Hudson, N. Y. His talents were of the first order, exalted and consecrated by a piety of the most seraphic fervor. Before his marriage, and for some time after, he was an inmate of my father's family. His widow and one child are, I believe, still living. He died suddenly of a fever, in July, 1814, triumphing in Christian hope. My father watched his dying pillow, and, when laid upon his own, three years after, his dying request was, " Bury me by the side of my dear minister and friend— Mr. Jenks." POEMS. 21 They dwell near together, but mute is the tongue On whose pious instructions with rapture they hung, And in silence, the clods of the valley among. Are the friends who once loved so tenderly. Around their dark dwelling the wild tempest raves, Above it the hemlock still mournfully waves, But the evergreen lifts its bright leaf on their graves, Emblem of their immortality ! As in life, so in death, they were strangers to fame. No sepulchral stone is inscribed with their name,* And the sculptor ne'er labored with art to proclaim Their faith, or their hope, or their charity. But theirs is a record emblazoned on high. And although the green turf on their bodies now lie, Their spirits exult in the briglit, blissful sky, And reign with the Savior gloriously. Then, while we are mourning the stroke of the rod. We no longer will dwell on the mouldering sod. But believe in their Savior, and trust in their God, And follow the path of their inety. Then, when the last trumpet resounds in the skies. And the sleepers in dust from their slumbers arise. We shall meet them in peace with ecstatic surprise, And share in their pleasures eternally. Hamilton, (JV. Y.) 1520. * This was true at the time these lines were written, though not at present. 22 POEMS. CHRISTIAN CONSOLATION. Say, stranger, hast thou e'er in life been led, By Pity's impulse or Affection's call, To the sad chamber and the lonely bed, O'er which Affliction spreads her sable pall ; Say, hast thou ever drank that cup of gall Which sin has mingled for our wretched race, What time the hand of stern disease doth fall On one whom friendship, in its warm embrace. Hath bound unto thy heart with each endearing Yes, thou hast gazed upon that well-known form. Now slowly sinking in the arms of death ! Thou hast hung o'er, with fond affection warm, That pale, cold brow ! hast watched each gasp for breath. And traced each change of hue that travelleth O'er that dear cheek ; and thrilled at every throe Of thy beloved. Death's fearful hand beneath, And felt that tiiere were depths in human woe Beyond v.^liat others tell, beyond what others know. But the dread moment came ; and the faint breath Ceased, and the hand thine own hand clasped, grew cold, POEMS. 23 And all the fearful certainties of death In one dread moment o'er thy spirit rolled ; And bitter tears bedewed the lifeless mould, And earth seemed desolate in thy despair. O, say what influence sweet thy heart consoled In that deep agony ? — Faith's holy prayer, Lifting the heart to Heaven — and its Redeemer therel This is thy triumph, Christianity ! And I, adoring, bow before the shrine Of Him whose lovely image thou must be — Thy nature proves thine origin divine ! O, let thy holy light around me shine, While traversing earth's darkling wilderness ! Then, though I suffer, I shall not repine, But evermore the hand that chastens bless — It is a Father's hand of truth and tenderness ! 1821. 24 POEMS. THE FALL OF THE LEAF. " TVe all do fade as a Zca/."— Isaiah. Underneath a dark beech sitting, Faded was the foliage all ; Close beside me gently flitting, I beheld a brown leaf fall. Much, I thought, doth this resemble Man, although his foolish pride Would incline him to dissemble, And his real frailtyhide. Like the leaf before me lying. Fair ajid flourishing he grew ; Youth, the moral spring, supplying Health and vigor ever new. Once this leaf was brightly verdant, Waving in the summer breeze ; So, in youth, man's hope is ardent. And the world's gay trifles please. Swiftly passes by the summer. Autumn hastens, sear and brown ; And this cold, unwelcome comer Flings the withered foliage down. Thus with man — his life as fleeting — Swiftly pass his moments all ; POEMS. 25 Till the bitter death-blast meeting, Like the seared leaf he must fall. But a world there is eternal — Where, emerging from the sod, Saints shall bloom, forever vernal, In the paradise of God ! Oct. 1821. NIGHT SCENE. I LOOK above — no cloud on high Veils the deep azure of the sky ; All is serene, and cool, and clef.r, And tranquil glory triumphs here ! Yon moon is full— her lustre pure, Walks radiant through the vast obscure ; And overbears, with splendor bright, Each feebly glimmering star of night. Soft is the light she sheds abroad, The mellow beam sleeps on the road ; While wood, and stream, and hill, and vale, Rise up beneath her influence pale. Soft blows the breeze — the air is cool — The stillness soothes to peace the soul j 3 26 FOEMS. At leisure with my friends I walk, And of surrounding objects talk. I listen, but I hear no sound, Save the lone cricket's chirp around; One now might hear his very breath Amid this mimic hush of death ! How can I otherwise than draw, In such a scene, the breath of awe ? How can my heart refuse to feel A pensive sweetness o'er it steal r I envy not the man who sees. Unmoved, such solemn scenes as these ; The mind which, bound in atheist thrall, Owns not the God that made them all. I see His hand — I feel His power — Bow down, my soul, and Him adore ! And let this night begin with thee The worship of eternity ! A few more moments roll in haste, And Time will be forever past ! A day will dawn — the night be o'er— A sun shall rise, to set no more I July 31, 1821. POEMS. 27 MEMORY OF THE REV. RICHARD CECIL. His mind with heavenly principles imbued, Loved the deep calm of holy solitude ; There his great spirit, as his foot would tread Their ashes, mingled with the mighty dead, And, musing on the end of rank and birth, Felt deep the vanity of things on earth. And what were wealth, and fame, and pomp, and power. But the frail pageants of a feverish hour? And what were science, with her ainple store, And letters rich in fancy's various lore. Affection's softer beam, or friendship's ray. But dreams that vanish at the dawn of day ? The world rang hollow underneath his feet. For death was nigh, and death disclosed the cheat. Sickened and sad, to Heaven he turned his eyes, And sought for purer pleasures in the skies. To faith unfolded, and by promise sure To all who meekly to the end endure. Heaven — Heaven he seeks — no respite — no delay — To Heaven he wings his never wearying way; And Heaven appears — and in that blessed abode His soul forgets the struggles of the road. In sweet repose upon the bosom of her God. 1821. 28 POEMS. THE THUNDER STORM. See, in the darkened west, The awful tempest rise ! The clouds with their own weight opprest, Roll slowly up the skies. Look, how the lightnings gleam. Bright through the gloom profound, And pour one broadly flashing stream Of terror all around. Steadily comes the storm ; The heavy clouds are near ; The thunder sounds the loud alarm Of elemental war. High rises the rolling dust. Darkness involves the town ; But lo ! the tempest above has burst, And the rain comes rushing down ! Incessantly, peal on peal. The crashing thunders break ; Where is the sense that does not feel, The ear that does not ache ? Yet, terror, I bid thee flee ! My God directs the storm ; POEMS. 29 I see Him awful in majesty, And I hush my wild alarm. Roll on, ye thunders, roll ! I list with tranquil brow ; Though trembles e'en the solid pole, Ye cannot daunt me now. Flash, lightnings, flash again ' Dart fires on fires abroad ; Rush down in torrents, impetuous rain ! Sweep, deluge, along the road ! Ye are but the servants all Of the glorious King of kings ! He bids the thunderbolts harmless fall, And shelters me under his wings. Hudson, JV.Y. Aug. 1821. A SUMMER EVENING. The sun has gone down, and the shadows of even Have quenched the fierce glowing of earth and of heaven ; Care's heaviest pressure is gone with the day, And the world's thousand murmurs are dying away. How soft is the breath of the zephyr and cool, How soothing the thoughts that steal into the soul ! 30 POEMS. As, locked arm in arm with the friends that I love, O'er hill and o'er valley at leisure I rove. I rove, but in silence — entranced is my eye — Not a cloud veils the face of the beautiful sky ! And its measureless depths are all clearly displayed, As though fancy might float through the worlds it surveyed. The full moon is pouring a silvery hue. From her slow-moving throne, o'er the ocean of blue; And far round her presence the stars are unseen, Their lustre eclipsed in her glorious sheen. How solemn, how soft, and how holy, the hour I It touches the soul with a magical power ; And the mind takes the color by nature impressed, Like the woodland's still height, and the river's calm breast. I envy not him, who, mid grandeur like this. Feels not in devotion a tenderer bliss ; To whom night, with its stillness and stars, brings no thought Of the hand which this glorious universe wrought. O man most unhappy ! What shutteth thine eye To the presence of God in the earth and the sky ? By what spell is the force of thine intellect bound, That God should be near thee, yet never be found .'' POEMS. 31 For me, the deep calm of this heautiful even Expands every thought, and exalts it to heaven ; Where, enthroned in His glory, creation above, Reigns Jehovah of Hosts in the might of His love. Look round, and contemplate the works of his power; Thou art in that temple where angeb adore : Thou art in that temple — His voice is to thee — And He claimeth the homage of heart and of knee. O, yield Him that homage, for time hasteth fast, And there cometh a night which to thee is the last ! If thou worship Him not ere the day-breaking sun, Thy work for eternity is not begun. 1821. TASTE; NOT EELIGION. Versified from Chalmers' Astronomical Discourses What ! must a man true piety possess, And all its soul-subduing influence know ; Ere from some lofty Alpine wilderness, He feels the majesty of scenes below, Which nature's hand before his eye may throw; The sounding waterfall — the rugged steep — And pinnacles of everlasting snow — And the horizon's proudly circling sweep. Folding in its embrace the undulating deep ! %RS POEMS. Ah, no ! an infidel himself might feel His bosom glow at that stupendous sight ; And even the atheist, with heart of steel, Who sees not God, though manifested bright, Might catch the thrill of rapturous delight, Ere that rich vision from his eye be chased. — Doubtful criterions that the heart is right ; Poor touchstones. Sensibility and Taste ; And woe to him whose hopes on this bright sand are based ! 1821. THE BURNING BUSH. Low in the vale, whence, rising high, Mount Horeb mingles with the sky, Where the broad rocks their shadow spread, To shield the fainting shepherd's head, When in his radiant course the sun The burning height of heaven has won ; — At dawn of day a sheplierd strayed, Ere yet the mist had left the glade, In holy meditation lost, Till the dark stream his footsteps crossed. He paused — then turned his step again, Where lay his sheep upon the plain ; POEMS. 33 Wound round the intervening hill, Absorbed in meditation still. But ere his eye beheld his flock, From underneath the jutting rock A flame burst forth ! He turns his eyes Towards the strange sight with deep surprise ; A bush was all on fire — yet, still Stood unconsumed upon the hill ! Unknowing what could be the cause Of this reverse of Nature's laws. Silent awhile the shepherd stood ; Then slow approached in anxious mood, More narrov/ly to scrutinize This object of his just surprise ; For ne'er before, he well presumed, A bush on flame was not consumed ; When from the glowing flame there broke A voice, which thus, like thunder, spoke : — ' Moses ! the Eternal God I am * Of Israel, Isaac, Abraham ! ' Death the relation cannot break ' That binds my servants unto me ; ' I love their off*spring for their sake, ' And I am come to set them free. ' Think not to me their grief's unknown, ' Who now in Egypt's bondage groan. ' Their prayers I hear, their tears I see, ' And now commission give to thee 34 POEMS. ' To rescue them from Pharaoh's hand, * And lead them to the Promised Land. — ' Fear not ; though myriad foes assail, ' Jehovah's promise cannot fail !' 1820. MORAL DEATH. I HATE sat alone in the dead of night. The vigils of sorrow keeping ; I have counted the hours in their tardy flight, While around me all were sleeping. When the taper burnt dim with a fitful flame, By turns on the cold wall gleaming ; I have watched the shadows that went and came, Like spirits of darkness seeming. Armed as I was with a reckless heart, At moments, however unwilling, I have felt the sudden and shuddering start Of fear through my bosom thrilling. For stretched on the bed, and but half revealed. An ashy fbrm was lying ; And the bloodless lips, they were closely sealed. From them there was no replying. POEMS. 35 And in dreamless slumber the eyes were closed, And the heart, it heaved not ever ; For the Angel of death had his hand imposed, And stilled its throb forever. That scene was awful — ^but sadder still Is one sight at which I sicken — A deeper and darker and colder thrill Of grief through my soul is stricken — For there is a death of another kind, Ere the flight of the soul is taken ; When the Spirit of Virtue hath left the mind, Desolate — cold — forsaken ! Ah ! what then availeth or life or health. Or the mantling glow of beauty ; The honors of rank, or the splendors of wealth, When the heart loves not its duty ! The wretch without Virtue may breathe and move, Yet 'tis but a spectre you're seeing ; For his heart is void of that vital love. Which with God gives man a being !* 1821. * 1 Cor. xiii. 1—3. 36 POEMS. VISION OF HEAVEN. Now will I look to those blest plains, Beyond death's swelling flood ; Where an eternal rest remains For all the sons of God. O, what transporting scenes of bliss Burst on my raptured view ! There God, my heavenly Father, is, And there my brethren, too. There my best loved, exalted Friend, My Jesus, lives and reigns ; And the sweet smile of rapture sends Through all the blissful plains. While, bending round his glorious throne, Adoring millions fall ; Confess the glory is his own. And crown him Lord of all. There, as the moments sweetly roll, New thousands reach the shore, Where love shall every grief control, And they shall weep no more. Now their triumphant songs arise To God's eternal grace ; And the full chorus of the skiea Joins in the Savior's praise : — POEMS. 37 * Worthy is He who suffered loss, And laid his glory down, For us to bleed upon the cross. Of Heaven's eternal crown ! ^ Roll on, roll on, ye heavenly years. His glory now we see ; Nor sin, nor death, nor pains, nor fears, Mar our eternity !' — But here, o'erpowered with deep delight, I lose the heavenly strain ; The blissful vision leaves my sight, And earth returns again. Dear Lord, and must death's narrow stream Confine me longer here ? O ! let some glimpse of glory beam, My longing soul to cheer. Prepare me for that happy land. Where sin disturbs no more ; Then let me hear the sweet command To leave this mortal shore. Fearless I'll plunge in Jordan's flood, With Canaan in my view j And thine own arm, my Savior God, Shall bear me safely through. March, 1820. 4 38 POEMS. CHRISTIAN CONVERSATION. THE INTRODUCTION. Say, hast thou e'er, at dawn of summer day, Breathing the freshness of the morning air, Roamed o'er the fields before the sun's first ray Had on them poured its eye-bedimming glare, Brushing the dewdrops from the green parterre, What time the young bird carolled on the spray, Praise for his Maker's providential care, (Ah, keen rebuke to such as never pray !) As if from angel's lips he caught the grateful lay : What though the nestling had but just begun To tune to melody his little throat .? What though as yet he soared not to the sun, On buoyant wing in the clear air to float 1 What though some harshness mingled with tiie note Which mellower age, it may be, might o'ercome .'' Didst thou not on the unfledged warbler dote ? If so, then, hapl}'^, thou wilt list, at home. Strains humbler far than those which greet thy morning roam. O, list, and chide not, though he be so young,* Him whose weak essays in these lines are found, * These lines were addressed originally to a lady, who had requested some poetical composition from the pen of the au- thor, without giving a theme. The author was then 17. POEMS. 39 O, chide him not as daring, that he stn\ng On such a theme his lyre, whose gentle sound Perchance may soothe him when his griefs abound — Perchance may breathe in other bosoms peace — Or pour some loftier strain of warning round, When peril threatens piety at ease. And edifying themes from conversation oease. PART I. THE REBUKE. Eterxal Spirit ! who, on Bethlehem's plains. Taught Judah's king to sweep the hallowed lyre ; Whose inspiration woke Isaiah's strains. Till truth's warm torrent gushed from lips of fire; With trembling I invoke Thee. O, inspire Thoughts not unworthy of those holy men ; (And if not more than man may now desire,) Omniscient Spirit ! let thy light again Irradiate my mind, and guide my trembling pen. 'Tis in thy light I see, and sadly show. How those who have exulted in thy grace. And felt the deep unutterable glow Of love enfolding in its strong embrace Its Cliristlan brethren and the human race — As flowers when smitten by untimely frost- How these their heaven-born dignity debase, By worldly complaisance — how lightly tost, As reason's holm were gone, or hope's firm anchor lost ! 40 POEMS. Ah ! who dare ask without the blush of shame, When haply friends and fellow Christians meet, How often the adored Redeemer's name, His own disciples with delight repeat ? How often they, in conversation sweet, Dwell on the wisdom of Jehovah's ways; His works with beauty, grandeur, grace, replete, His benefits, which load their rolling days, To swell the sum of joy and gush in songs of praise ? In sad reverse of these celestial themes, Adapted well to wean the soul from earth, Direct thine eye where yonder candle gleams, And Christian friends surround the blazing hearth. To what employment does the time give birth ? Do they hold converse high on things divine ? Ah, no ! but subjects of inferior worth. On which the Muse is loath to waste a line, Are brought as offerings meet, and laid at Fashion's shrine. The Fashion of the world ! Away ! away ! — What vain discourse assails the listening ear ! Deem you that grace may dictate what they say ?* Hark to the idle tale — the laugh — the jeer — O God ! can tliese be Christians that I hear ? Where is their reverence for thy cause and name ? Where is their love ? where, where, their filial fear.'' O for the burning blusli of holy shame. And tears of penitence, such as from Peter came ! * Let your speech be always witli grace, &,c. — Col. iv. 6. POEMS. 41 Who that beheld, could think to them 'twas given, Far, far beyond this earth's contracted scene, To lift in faith a filial eye to heaven, And find a home amid its dazzling sheen ? That a few moments only intervene Their full enjoyment of immortal bliss ; And these vouchsafed in tenderness to wean Their pure affections from the world that is — Ah ! who that heard them now, could well distin- gui ish this ? What exquisite infatuation blinds Their hearts, to spend these precious moments so . What dark-wove spell has seized their heavenward minds Unseen, and chained them down to things below ? Were they not warned in time -* Did they not know The arts of the Enchanter ? Knew they not The lying lustre he has power to throw O'er the world's veriest bubbles, and to blot Eternity from sight? — They kneio ; hut they forgot! Though keenly she rebuke, blame not the Muse That she in love assumes the chastening rod — At times she ought. O, 'tis a vile abuse, If she forsakes the service of her God. Unawed by guilty Fashion's tyrant nod. The Muse of Truth indignant warning gave, Where'er the foot of Vice or Folly trod ; 42 No favor from the vicious does she crave — Their clamor she contemns, their vengeance she can brave. PART II. THE ENCOURAGEMENT. Doing as others no I This is the source Of half our errors, and the constant foe Of all improvement. But the silent force Of bad example, what can overthrow ? Balance it by a mightier .'' Let the glow In the PIERCED Heart of Calvary sanctify Thine own. Could earth enchant thee then .? O, no. On wings of love thy joyful soul would fly, And hold communion sweet with those above the sky. . Speak thou, who on the bosom of thy Lord Didst lean ! the Christian's privilege unfold. Tell us the transport which in every chord Of the full heart awoke in days of old. When Christians met. O, let it wide be told, Hovv' Christians with each other did commune. And what but faith grown weak, or love waxed cold. Could check that sacred fellowship so soon ? Endearing fellowship ! Holds earth so rich a boon .'' Seest thou yon shepherds, guardians of the flock. Now gently slumbering on that starlight plain .? things declare we unto you, tli;it ye may have fellowship with us. And truly our fellowship is with the Father and with his Son Jesus Christ."— 1 John i. 3. POEMS. 43 Know ye the charm by which they sweetly mock The hours of midnight's solitary reign ? Approach, and listen. 'Tis the solemn strain Of minds long wont to scan the sacred page Of prophecy. Nor do they scan in vain ; For now has come the long-predicted age, The great Messiah comes, their boast and heritage ! And who are those that hold their lonely walk Toward yon small village, at the close of day .'' Sadness is on their brow, and still they talk Of a loved Master death has torn away ; Of hopes too high and holy to betray, Though clouded now. Lo ! ere the daylight dies, A friendly stranger joins them on their way, In sacred converse. What is their surprise, When their loved Master stands revealed before their eyes ! And thus oft since, O Christian ! when thy soul. Sunk in the sadness of its silent grief. Has from the bosom of retirement stole, To seek in Christian intercourse relief. Were not those moments blest, however brief.'' Moments of sweetness, far to be preferred Before all worldly joy ? but chief, O, chief. When favored with the presence of the Lord, Did not your heart then hum icithin you at his loord ? 44 POEMS. Unroll the records of the days of yore,* When those who feared Jehovah'sglorious name, Each to his brother told his feelings o'er, And found in him a sympatliizing frame ; And oft the gush of inspiration came Through bosoms glowing with fraternal love ; And mutual converse fanned the rising flame, And souls were mingled like the blest above, Where broods, with outspread wing, the Everlasting Dove ! Blest intercourse ! to God and angels known — For while they thus commune of things divine, Jehovah hears, and from his glorious throne Bids heaven's bright record treasure every line ; And in the book of life their names shall shine. When kings and conquerors undistinguished fade. Them He appropriates, — ' They shall be mine' — Them He esteems his glory — they are made To glow in jewelled radiance when yon sun is shade. And does the Lord of all things thus regard Those whose delight is in his name below, Who love to meditate his sacred word. And daily in celestial knowledge grow ? And will he such transcendent favor show To those who oft make mention of his name ? * " Then they that feared the Lord spake often one to an- other ; and the Lord hearkened and Jieard it : and a hook of remembrance was written before him for them that feared the Lord, and that thought upon his name," &c.— Mai. iii. 16, 17. POEMS. 45 Christians ! this blessedness ye all may know. And thou, Most Holy ! every heart inflame With quenchless love and zeal thy glory to proclaim. Hamilton, JV. Y. May, 1821. THE MUSTARD-SEED. Matt. xiii. 31, 32. To what shall I liken the kingdom of God ? To a man who a very small mustard-seed took, And, despite of its littleness, carefully sowed Where the soil was enriched by a neighboring brook. Beneath vthe warm sunbeam it sprouted and grew, And green was the foliage of beauty it wore ; And lofty and large were its limbs to the view, Though the seed, of all seeds, was the smallest before. Now a tree of great size, wide its branches extend, And shelter and shade to the weary it shows ; And the birds of the air on its verdure depend. And beneath its broad shadow in safety repose. Thus, though small its beginning, the kingdom of God Is destined to flourish, to grow, and increase. And spread itself wider and wider abroad, Till the whole earth repose in its shadow of peace. 1820. 46 TO THE AUTHOR OF DON JUAN. Grieved to condemn, the Muse must still be just, Nor spare melodious advocates of lust. English Barilo aiid Scotch Revietoere. Lord of the lecherous lyre ! away, away ! Ask not for sympathy with such a mind ; Virtue, indignant, spurns poetic sway, When basely wielded to corrupt mankind. Away ! the witchery of thy wanton song Steals to young hearts voluptuous access j But while the notes roll the charmed ear along, The soul is prisoned in Sin's foul caress. Sorcerer ! thou holdest an enchanted cup. Drugged by no fabled Circe's magic art; There are who've drunk its fatal contents up, And felt the venom shoot through all the heart Away ! and bear with thee that living lyre ! 'Tis wreathed with spotted serpents, and its breath, Like the soft song of Scylia's syren choir. Though rich in melody, is rank with death. 1821 47 ON THE DEATH OF MRS. S- WIFE OF J G. S , ESQ., OF HAMILTON, N.I, The knell of death is tolling in the ear, The snowy shroud is dazzling on the eye ; And awe-struck multitudes are gathering near, To gaze, and weep, and learn that they must die. Is this our friend ? Hush, stranger— not a breath ! Perhaps she yet may speak to us again : — Ah, no ! this stillness is the hush of death — Our love, our hopes, our prayers, our tears, are vain. 1822. EPITAPH ON GRANVILLE MALCOM, INFANT SON OF REV. HOWARD MALCOM. Sweet bud of love ! and art thou dead, And mouldering in this silent tomb. In whom our fond affections read Such hopes of life's expanding bloom? — But cease these tears — thou are not lost ; We know the Hand that took thee hence ; And, though our fondest hopes are crossed, We could not, would not, wish thee thence. 1824. 48 POEMS. MIDNIGHT THOUGHT. The wing of night o'er earth is furled, No sound upon the stillness breaks ; Oblivion wraps the slumbering world, But my glad spirit wakes. I feel the deep, exquisite charm With which this silent hour is fraught : Peace sheds upon my soul her balm Of meditative thought. My grateful heart ascends on high, To Him who his own Israel keepa. And thinks, while we forgetful lie, He slumbers not, nor sleeps. O, fi-om his glorious throne of light, In wakeful tenderness He bends. And through the dangers of the night His helpless ones defends. And while they slumber on their beds, He still the play of life sustains In every power, and softly sheds Sweet solace on their pains. E'en in this solemn, silent hour. His eye of love looks down on me — My Father ! curtained by thy power, I think of none but Thee. Mrwich, JV. Y. July 30, 1821. POEMS. 49 CREATION. A FRAGMENT When first the Almighty formed the spacious earth, And from dark chaos gave fair Nature birth, With all her vast variety of form, From the huge mammoth to the insect v/orm, The lofty mountain, and the spacious flood, — His eye beheld, his voice pronounced it good. Then, chief of all his vv^orks, to crown the plan Of heavenly wisdom, He created man ; Fashioned the dust that should o'er nature sway, And stamped his image on the ennobled clay. 1819. ON THE NEW YEAR. Time rolls along. Upon the rugged tide. An Eye, unseen, incessant watch is keeping; A. thousand monuments of human pride, He sees adown the rapid current sweeping ; He sees fond man o'er many a relic weeping. With fruitless efforts to regain the spoil. From rock to rock o'er the dark torrent leaping, Till, wearied out with unsuccessful toil. He finds beneath the wave release from mortal coil. Time rolls along. And now another year Has from the' pregnant future sprung to birth; 50 POEMS. Sweet childhood's jubilee rings far and near, And man with joy his fellow hails on earth — Alive, while many of superior worth Perhaps are sleeping in their lowly bed. Shall I then dedicate this day to mirth ? No ! solemn thought and high be mine instead — Thee, thee, I haste to meet, O Judge of quick and dead ! Hamilton. Jan. 1, 1823. THE SUN RISING THROUGH CLOUDS. Admire, my soul, the splendid show Presented mid this morning's glow ; See, see the orb of day arise ! See, what a flood of light is poured. Where but of late the darkness lowered O'er the whole circle of the skies ! Behold those clouds, which lately cast Their dusky mantle o'er the east. As if to shroud the morning ray ; But, O ! in vain that veil was spread ; See how its sombre hues have fled Before the brilliant beams of day. Sudden transformed, behold them now, Flushed with the fiery crimson glow, Fling their reflected gleam abroad ; POEMS. 51 While, like some conqueror, whom foes, Vanquished beneath his might, enclose, The sun mounts up the heavenly road. And so, when sunk in guilt and sin, The wretched state mankind were in, Resembled night's substantial gloom ; That gloom was pierced with splendor bright, From the pure gospel's heavenly light, The light that shines beyond the tomb. What opposition fierce was made, Lest these transforming rays pervade A world to sin entirely given ! The prince, the priest, the sophist sage, United strove to blind the age. And to exclude the light of he-^.ven. But all in vain ' The spreading light Chased far the clouds of pagan night, And poured its splendor all abroad ; While the bright Sun of Righteousness Triumphantly began his race. And shone the conquering Son of God ! 1819. 52 THE CHILD OF BRADING DALE. Founded on Legh Richmond's 'Young Cottager.' Memory ! bring me back the scene, When, with my catechumens dear, 1 met on yonder ruro.1 green, Their weekly exercise to hear. The village churchyard was in sight. And sometimes I would send them there, To learn the sweet and simple rhymes, Which yet the mossy tombstones bear. Children, I once unto them said, You know full well you all must die , You know that ycu must join the dead, Who in yon graves forgotten lie. Children, were you to die this night. Where, think you, would your spirits go .'* Would they ascend to heavenly light, Or sink to darker worlds below ? Children, you have your Savior grieved. His kind commands you've often broke. — I paused. One heart the word received, And deeply fell the truths 1 spoke. POEMS. 53 Lowly her birth ; but like the flower That blooms within the lowly vale, Grace blossomed, with celestial power, In the sweet child of Brading Dale. Still, still I hear her fond adieu As sitting by her dying bed, She suddenly arose, and threw Her wasted arms around my head, — And whispered, ' 'Tis to you I owe My blessed hopes — in Christ — forgiven ; I can but feebly thank you now — But we shall meet — in peace — in heaven.' Yes, we shall meet where thou art gone, Thou sweetest flower in Brading's dell ! Though oft for thee my soul shall mourn. And of thy gentle virtues tell. Such scenes with pleasure I retrace, They yield refreshment to my soul ; They cheer me in my heavenly race, And make me pant to reach the goal. Hudson, JV. F. 1819. 5* 54 LINES, OCCASIONED BY THE SUDDEN DEATH OF MRS. JANE P , OF HUDSON, N. Y. Again th' alarming knell has struck the ear, Again tli' appalling sight has met the eye ; And thoughtless mortals once more trembling hear The solemn truth that they are born to die. But, O, how sudden was the recent stroke, That reft the spirit from its robe of clay ! The golden bowl was at the fountain broke, And life's warm pleasures passed at once away. When all around was health, and peace, and joy, The mother sat within her happy home, « And fixed for school her brightly-blooming boy, — | O, who could dream that moment Death could come ? * And yet, as if to dash our hopes from earth, And prove how brittle life's mysterious chain, E'en in that moment came the summons forth, And all the ties that bound her here were vain. One quick, low groan — but one — was all we heard. One backward movement faint, was all we saw ; No farewell look, nor gently-parting word, Broke the cold chill of overwhelminsf awe. 56 Dim was that eloquent eye, and pale the cheek, The pulse was still, the slender hand was cold ; — O, who a husband's wo, that hour, may speak Her children's anguish who with tears unfold? So, when the young-fledged eaglets try the wing, The parent mother aids their tender flight, Till some keen arrow, from a viewless string, Pierces the breast that beat with fond delight. In vain her partner, struck with sudden fear, To rouse her strives with many a plaintive moan ; In vain her offspring seek to gain her ear — Her love, her tenderness, her life, are gone ! But we have hope in a Redeemer's word, And our sad spirits hail the joyful beam ; For, while she lived, she lived unto the Lord, And when she died, we trust she died in Him. Then to the bosom of the faithful tomb, In humble hope her relics we entrust, Till an eternal day disperse the gloom, And Jesus' voice reanimate the dust. 1819. 56 POEMS. TO A YOUNG FRIEND, ONE WHOM THE AUTHOR NEVER EXPECTED TO SEl AGAIN. Eccles. xii. The bloom is withering on the cheek — The light is fading from the eye — The tongue will soon forget to speak — The ear to welcome melody — The springs of youth are ebbing dry — And life's warm stream is waxing cold, Murm'ring as it passes by — 'Remember thou art growing old.' When all the joys of earth decay, And age — if we to age survive — Shall wither all our strength away, Yet leave us (painful thought !) alive ; O, when those cheerless years arrive — And come they will, and come they must, And mortal skill in vain shall strive To stay the change of dust to dust : — Ah, what shall cheer the drooping mind In that distressing hour of gloom, And bid it, hopeful and resigned. Look down into the awful tomb ? POEMS. 57 When nothing can avert the doom, And gathering shades portend the night, What shall the darksome scene illume With hopes and joys divinely bright ? Tell me, my friend, O, tell me soon, For days and years are fleeting fast, And life's invaluable boon Cannot, and will not, ever last, — How much is e'en already past ! And who shall say how near its close ? For, O, perchance, some chilling blast May blight its bud ere winter's snows ! And should it be ? O, speak, my friend ! A voice, a voice within replies : — ' Think, think upon thy latter end ! ' Improve this moment as it flies !' — Lo ! thy Creator from the skies Utters his own almighty word : — ♦ Heir of eternity ! be wise — ' Remember in thy youth the Lord !' And can my friend that voice refuse ? Can she from Jesus turn away ? Will she the hour of mercy lose, And waste salvation's golden day ? O, turn, and see how bright the way, That leads thee on to joys on high. And everlasting love display The melting scenes of Calvary ! 58 POEMS. Hark ! o'er yon weeping penitent What touching strains of joy resound ! Angels exult when men repent, And golden harps ring out the sound : — ' A child was lost, but now is found, ' And welcomed to the world of love, ' And with its deathless glories crowned, ' Shall triumph in the courts above !' They pause. That solemn pause I take To ask if this thy lot shall be. O, didst thou know tlie heart's deep ache At every thought of heaven and thee, Lest thou shouldst not that glory see, Thou wouldst forgive the tears that fell, As — haply till eternity — I bade adieu. Farewell, farewell ! A JVov. 10, 1821, /:' THE FRIEND OF GOD. * And he was called the Friend of God.' — James ii. 23. Exalted privilege ! endearing name ! Illustrious title ! upon whom bestowed ! Of mortal race who may this glory claim To be divinely called the Friend of God ? POEMS. 59 'Tis Abraham, when filled with living faith, At God's command he bound his only child, His Isaac, doomed of Heaven by him to death, Upon the altar his own hands had piled. Behold him now — the glittering blade appears High raised to sacrifice the son he loved ; When, lo ! from heaven the joyful father hears The act forbidden, but the faith approved. And could the obedience of faith so high The patriarch raise, when near his earthly end ? Did God himself this wondrous name apply, Did God himself call Abraham his friend ? He did ; for thus that holy Volume saith, Where God's own record meets our joyful sight; And still that holy word assures us, faith In the same bond of friendship can unite. He, who a suppliant, seeks the heavenly throne, And sues for pardon tlirough the Savior'^ cross ; He who by faith yields him to God alone. And bows obedient to his sacred laws ; — He who can give each earthly comfort up, When God, his Father, bids him all resign; Can meekly drink and drain afl[liction's cup, Yet never at its bitterness repine ; — 60 POEMS. That man, howe'er by earth despised, is blest With the same title, graciously bestowed ; And though of nought in this wide world possest, This is enough — he is the Friend of God ! 1821. FAITH AND SENSE. Sense, stunned at sight of death, recoils and cries, * Behold, O man, the doom that all must share ! * Gaze mournfully upon those sealed eyes — 'Turn to the grave, and wonder, and despair." But Faith beholds with different eye the scene, Recumbent on the promise of her God ; O'er the cold grave she bends, with brow serene, And hears unmoved the rattling of the sod. Sense cannot pierce the future, nor the past; The present, only, fills and bounds her gaze ;— Faith has a range immeasurably vast, And luminous with revelation's rays. Sense sees the wasting form — the failing breath— The mortal agony — the terrestrial loss — The friends that weep around the bed of death :- But Faith's clear eye is fixed upon the cross. POEMS. 61 Sense at the cross hears but the victim's cries, Sees but the malice thirsting for His blood ; Faith owns the all-atoning sacrifice, And warms with rapture at the love of God. Sense sees the sepulchre — the rock — the gloom — The watch — the seal — the full moon shining bright ; Faith sees the stone rolled from the opening tomb, And immortality come forth in light. 18^2. GIBBON. They may tell me that Gibbon, whose elegant mind Shed a halo of glory o'er Rome's latter day, With a judgment so just, and a taste so refined, Has flouted the truth of the Bible away. But though Gibbon had learning, and genius, and wit, And keen were the shafts that his irony threw. Yet, so blind was the archer, not one of them hit — My Bible still triumphs, my Bible is true ! 1822. 6 62 POEMS. SUNRISE. 'TwAS morning, but th' unwearied sun Had not his wonted course begun, When I from sleep awoke ; I sought the hill, with eye intent Fixed on the eastern firmament, As night's dun shadows broke. The morning star announced the dawn, As I sped o'er the verdant lawn, Wet with the morning dew ; At length arrived, awhile I stood. In fixed, expectant attitude. The opening scene to view. At length, a lucid gleam appeared, And nature's darkened face was cheered By the reviving ray ; The spreading lustre drove afar The dusky shades, and morning's star Was lost in opening day. A few dark clouds I marked on high, Moving in sullen majesty ; But as the east they passed. Sudden they caught its brilliant hue, And full on my delighted view Their streaming splendors cast. POEMS. At last, the sun himself arose — A living fire his centre glows ; Thence issuing, far and wide. Like streams of gold, his dazzling raya Form an insufferable blaze. — Earth laughs on every side ! Effulgent orb ! though mortal sight Is cheered and dazzled by the light That from thy presence springs ; More blest are they, upon whose eyes The Sun of Righteousness shall rise With healing in his wings ! 1819. 63 ' Ought not Christ to have sufFered these things, and to enter into his glory V—Luke xxiv. 26. And what, then, didst thou suffer, Son of God.'' Fain would my soul go back to Calvary, And there behold the crisis of thy woes, And learn the straitness of that fearful pass, Through which thy way was urged in agony 64 POEMS. Up to the gates of glory. Let me taste Thy bitter cup, and feel the heavy swell Of thine o'erwhelming baptism, as the flood Of wrath rolls high o'er thy devoted head, And sounds the long-resounding knell of sin. And is it thou, upon that tort'ring cross. Hemmed in by cruel foes, athirst for blood, Thou with the thorny crown ! that angels see — Astonished see, rapt into mute amaze ? — 'Tis thou ! 'tis thou ! in mortal flesh revealed, To make thyself our sacrifice ! to bear The crushing burden of our ponderous guilt, And save us from a ruin infinite ! Behind Humanity's dark, suffering cloud, The glory of thy Deity eclipsed To every eye, save of the Cherubim ! — And still, though centuries have passed away, Still are their thoughts in wonder riveted On what, that day, they saw. Surprising scene ! Mysterious spectacle ! Their glorious Lord, Whose praise they erst had hymned in heaven above, Now on the tree of shame ! his hands and feet Pierced by the rugged spikes ! fast pouring out Life in the crimson streams Yet meek, resigned. His fainting head reclining on his breast ! His soul in pity melting o'er his foes ! His dying eye still languisliing in love ! His lips, soft murmuringin prayer, 'Forgive, POEMS. 65 Father ! my murderers know not what they do !' Then closed in death's pale beauty. — See, around, Consenting Nature owns her suffering Lord ; Weeps o'er the bloody tragedy ; averts From the tremendous scene the eye of day ; Around her draws dark midnight's awful veil ; A mortal sickness settling on her heart, And her whole frame with deep convulsion shook, Like one in sudden terrors. — See yon rocks Cleave wide, as by the piercing wedge of frost ; And yonder tombs do open in our sight Their marble lips, as if they did protest Against the murderers of the Lamb of God ! No wonder yon affrighted multitudes Homeward return, in wild disorder pale. Smiting their breasts, as conscious of the deed That dims the world with this unnatural gloom ! O sinner, come with me, and let us gaze Upon this scene — this miracle of wo. Until we realize it was for us ! And our full hearts o'erflow with gratitude, With wondering gratitude, and grief for sin, Such as doth well become us, sinful men ! Rise, now, my soul, in contemplation high, On faith's celestial wing, arise, arise, 6* 66 POEMS. Up to those realms of blessedness, to which Christ, thy Forerunner, in his glory rose ! See there thy Savior sits ! exalted high O'er thrones, and principalities, and powers; The Godhead shining through the human form, And smiling joys ineffable on all The glittering ranks of saints and seraphim, Who pour around his throne, and fill the house Of God's almightiness. — O glorious Transfiguration ! not, as on the mount, A little space his hidden rays shone forth, With partial brightness, to a chosen few, — But public, perfect, permanent, divine ! Bright as the light the robe, whose waving folds Mantle his limbs immortal, and display The perfect form of human dignity, Irradiate with divine intelligence. Infinite power, and majesty supreine, Softened with condescension infinite. And everlasting love ! Not half so fair The rosy dawn, when, brightening in the east, The first pure tints light up the smiling morn. Kindling earth's rapture. Not the noonday sun. When, with collected rays in all his strength. He shoots his splendors o'er the burning sky, Can with the Savior's countenance compare ! Beneath his glance, tho' fraught with smiling love, POEMS. 67 Sink angels and archangels, all abashed, Dazzled, o'erpowered, in love and wonder lost, Prostrate in adoration. How much more. Then, man, for whom he died ! to glory raised, From infinite depths of guilt, and shame, and wo ! And chief, my soul, my trembling soul, redeemed At price so vast ! forgiven such deep offence ! Not once alone, so many times forgiven ! Nor yet alone forgiven, adopted too, A child of God ! an heir ! joint heir with Christ ! Partaker of his Spirit and his love. And sharer in his blest eternity ! — Tears, gushing tears, must speak thy thanks on earth, Till thou shalt offer worthier praise in heaven. January 1, 1321. HEAVEN. ' If ye then be risen with Christ, seek those tilings which are above, wJiere Christ sitteth on the right liand of God." — Col. iii. 1. There shalt thou see, on Zion's holy hill, Th' unnumbered millions of the angel host, Rank rising over rank in brightness, till In the effulgence of the Savior lost ! Light, by the shadow of a cloud uncrost, Forever pours its radiance all around ; 68 POEMS. There saints, whom once conflicting billows tost, With diadems of endless glory crowned, Forget the pains and toils which erst on earth they found. Wake, Christian, wake ! Let this delightful thought Spread its sweet influence through thy sluggish mind, Till, to the lofty pitch of transport wrought. It leave this world of nothingness behind, And soar aloft, substantial good to find — God, heaven, Christ, angels, saints now perfect made, Love ever pure, and happiness refined— The golden streets of heaven with rapture tread, Where Christ, thy Savior reigns, the whole crea- tion's head. 1821. A SONG OF HEAVEN. O, HOW supremely blest the place, (I fain would die to see,) Where Jesus shines in all his grace And glorious majesty ! POEMS. Where every heart and every tongue Burns with untiring zeal ; And gratitude inspires the song They love to sing so well. Praise to the Lamb that once was slain, Employs each tuneful breath, Assured they ne'er shall sin again, Nor taste the pang of death. Hark, how they swell the joyful sound j And as they sweetly sing, Not one discordant harp is found, Not one discordant string ! Now, in some sweet, celestial grove, They wander, arm in arm, While Jesus' overshadowing love Secures from all alarm. Now, in broad streams of life and peace, Their joyful spirits lave ; Nor shall their pleasures ever cease- Heaven does not hold a grave And can so vile a wretch as I E'er share in joys so great, And mingle in that company That round the Savior wait .? O, then, methinks, my thankful soul The loudest song shall raise. And, while eternal ages roll. Dwell on my Savior's praise. 70 POEMS. And is there aught on earth to hold, Or avtght in death to fear, When scenes like these above iinfold, So rapturous and dear ? As the beloved disciple lay. Reclined on Jesus' breast, So would I breathe my life away For that eternal rest. 1820. CREATION SUBJECT TO VANITY. Rom. viii. 18—25. See how the curse, by guilty man brought down On his own head, lights on creation too ! All nature groans beneath her Maker's frown, And writhes in anguish, or complains in wo. Inanimate creation lies defaced Beneath sin's cold and desolating blight, Which turned an Eden to a sterile waste, To fields of blood earth's gardens of delight. Here a vast desert meets the sultry skies. Where noxious weeds and prickly briers grow j There barren rocks and precipices rise. And mountains clothed in everlasting snow. POEMS. 71 Here the tornado roars along the plain, And nature reels before the furious shock ; There the dire tempest sweeps the billowy main, And shattered wrecks bestrew the fatal rock. The taint of \raiiity, without, within. Has seized on nature's universal frame ; E'en yon bright sun lights man to acts of sin, And the sweet stars look down on deeds of shame. Mark how earth's animated tribes all feel The bitter fruits of our revolt from God ; Some flee the face of man, or, fiercer still, With savage fury thirst for human blood. See, others taught to bow to man's command, Groan underneath the burden and the thong ; Unwilling yield them to the oppressor's hand. The helpless, guiltless instruments of wrong. The finny race, in ocean's depths that play. Torn from their element, man's misery share ; And you, sweet birds ! that wing your warbling way, Fall by the gun, or perish by the snare. Unhappy creatures ! shall ye never know Deliverance from accumulated ill ? Creation ! shall thine agonizing throe, Age after age, distress compassion still ? 73 POEMS. I O, no ! Thy groans have reached Jehovah's ear — O earth ! earth ! earth ! wet with a Savior's blood ! The hour of thy redemption draweth near — The glorious freedom of the sons of God ! 1822. SORROW SANCTIFIED. My spirits droop with illness now, And yet I would submissive bow, My heavenly Father, to thy will ; I would not breathe a single thought, With discontent or murmur fraught. But, suffering, own and love thee still. And yet there is a pensive air Steals o'er me ere I am aware. And clasps me in its soft control j A mildly melancholy mood, Of sickness born, and solitude. Sad and subduing to the soul. At times I check the starting tear. And think, my Father, thou art here. And I am thine, forever thine ; Should blow succeed to chastening blow, Thou art the very same, I know. And future blessings dost design. POEMS. 73 Whence, then, this sadness that I feel? Why do these tears unbidden steal, And on my better thoughts intrude ? Still must I weep ? Then vanish, pride, And let these tears be sanctified By holy grief and gratitude. Breathe, Holy Spirit ! on my pain, And I will weep o'er Jesus slain. His sufferings for my sins I see. When, in that dreary period Of insult, agony, and blood. He languished on the fatal tree. He was no sufferer once ! As God, He saw me from his high abode, Deep sunk in sin, and wo, and shame j Compassion kindled with the look, For me a servant's form he took, And down to earth to save me came. O, it might gush an angel's tear. To see the Man of Sorrows dear. Rejected and despised by men For angels knew how rich before He was in bliss, and what he bore To bring me back to God again. Melt then, my soul ! 'Twas for thy guilt Jesus' atoning blood was spilt; He could not sink in suffering lower. 7 74 O, if thou hast one spark of love To Him who left his throne above, Go, weeping go, and sin no more. October 15, 1820. THE ROSE AND THE EVERGREEN. THE author's first COMPOSITION. The rose is but a transient flower, That's scarcely worth the garden's room; When reared, it blooms but for an hour. Though on its stem, unplucked, it bloom. Not so the modest Evergreen ! — Mid summer's heats and winter's snows, Its humble form, unchanged, is seen. And fragrant as the blooming Rose. The first is Beauty. While it lasts, It draws the admirer's dazzled eyes ; But soon its transient power is past — It sinks, alas, no more to rise ! But Virtue, like the Evergreen, Though poverty may frown around, And clouds may dim this mortal scene, With immortality is crowned. May, 1817. POEMS. 75 TO A LITTLE GIRL. May my young friend the Savior love, In these her early days ; And may her feet with pleasure move In all God's holy ways. And may this precious character, When dead, of her be given — Alminaloved lier Savior here, And lives with him in heaven. ELEGY ON THE DEATH OF MRS. MERCY SMITH, WIFE OF DANIEL SMITH, ESQ,., OF HA.MILT0N, N. Y. Why weeps the Muse .' Why droops her languid head .' Why tremble thus the strings ? Alas ! she sings The solemn requiem of the sainted dead ! Nor can her plaintive harp refuse To speak of worth and virtue fled. And the pale form in which they dwelt Laid in its narrow bed. 76 poKMs. The notes are low, And on the listening ear Strike mournfully, but clear; And, now, more near The gentle gale wafts on the symphony. In movements tremulous and slow ; The soul dissolves in sympathy. While down the cheek the tear drops steal, Moved by the touch of wo. For whom doth roll The dirge by sorrow woke ? Affection's voice shall tell How Mercy fell. Yet while life sunk beneath death's awful stroke, The active and immortal soul Felt with surprise her fetters broke. And, winged with transport, took her flight Up to her heavenly goal. Who has not felt. Ere yet the coffin close. That there is sometliing sweet In the repose That wraps the slumberer in the winding sheet? And though the heart within may melt. How sweet to apply the promise given, That makes the dying Christian sure Of happiness in heaven ! 77 O, cease to mourn That the dhii, silent tomb Should round her relics close ; Soon shall its gloom Disperse ; for, as her glorious Savior rose, So, on the resurrection morn, Her dust shall wake to life again. To sing her great Redeemer's praise In one eternal strain. Sleep on, blest saint ! Hushed in soft slumber, sleep ! Thy friends, that o'er thee bend, In silence wi^ep. But sorrow's deeper tone of fond complaint Shall ne'er disturb repose so deep As that which seals thy tearless eye, Destined to look no more on aught That dwells below the sky. Why didst thou look, Mourner, into the grave, To see her mouldering there ? Why wouldst thou crave A melancholy sight thou couldst not bear .? Blind love ! its flight the spirit took ; Dream not it dwells beneath the sod, For angels bore it far away, Up to the throne of God. 7* 78 POEMS. In that blest place, Where sin defiles no more, Where sorrow cannot come, Nor billows roar, Before the glory of Jehovah's face. She makes her everlasting home, And joyful strikes her harp of gold. And bids each sounding string awake Her Savior's love t' unfold. Fond mourner, see Thy lost one living there ! See what new splendors now Glow on her brow ! A seraph's lovely form behold her wear. And high her palm of victory bear I — But here our weak conceptions fail. For glory flings around the scene Her mortal-dazzling veil. 1820. THE BEAUTY OF ISRAEL. • The beauty of Israel is slain upon thy high places.' — 2 Sam, i. 19. On Calvary's summit no dew let there be ! Let no shower from above e'er water its plain! For there was the Savior exposed on the tree ; There, there was the Beauty of Israel slain. POEMS. 79 O, never again let it verdure afford ! Most foul the transaction, and foul is the stain ; And deep is it drenched in the blood of the Lord, For there was the Beauty of Israel slain. Ye daughters of Zion, go weep o'er the spot, Where he died that he might your salvation obtain ; But tears cannot wash from its summit the blot, For there was the Beauty of Israel slain. Ye outcasts of Judah, who wander accursed. Behold your Messiah now looked for in vain ; O, weep and bow lowly your heads in the dust. For there was the Beauty of Israel slain. And we who have pierced, let us view him, and mourn O'er the sins which so cruelly put him to pain ; And reflect, as we slowly from Calvary turn, That there was the Beauty of Israel slain. LOVE. O LOVE, sweet love ! how wondrous is thy power ! What welcome tyranny ! what downy chains ! Thy silken net, though woven in an hour. Ever, with soft necessity, constrains ! Thou sweet controller of the human heart, What glorious things, in sooth, are said of thee ! Where'er thy vital influences dart, Spring peace, and joy, and grace, and dignity. 80 POEMS. Queen of affections — of the soul first born — Flower of its youth — beginning of its strength- Without thee, man must linger on forlorn, And die in hopeless misery at length. Essence of Deity, and fount of bliss. Immortal principle of every good ! If not too mean a habitation this, O, make this heart forever thine abode ! Come, and unite my wandering soul to God ; Unfold before me his perfections bright ; Make me submissive to his chastening rod. And let his law be my supreme delight. Bind, bind my heart unto his children dear, Who bear his image, on his name who call ; And let my Savior live and triumph here. My Alpha — my Omega — all in all ! 1820. MUSIC. A FRAGMENT. How oft has music, — soul-entrancing art, Gift of indulgent heaven, on man bestowed, To breathe his gratitude, and cheer his heart. What time oppressed beneath affliction's load, And raise his spirit to the throne of God, — Been prostituted to the vilrst use ! POEMS. 81 The Muse that erst with warm devotion glowed, Has been degraded. — But that vile abuse Let dark oblivion shroud, since nothing can excuse. 1819. THE BURIAL GROUND, HUDSON, N. T. This eastern slope, the sun's first ray Catches as, brightening into day, Alert he holds his onward way, Till the last beams of light decay, And shades creation blot ; Then the sweet moon, with lustre pale, Looks down upon yon dewy vale : — Here, winding on o'er hill and dale, Arrived, my weary footsteps fail Upon this hallowed spot. The sun is set behind the hill ; But the floating clouds his lustre still La shapes fantastic hold at will, And the breathing tones of evening thrill The soul's most secret place ; I see grim Death stalk o'er the ground. But his tread emits no earthly sound. And a solemn stillness broods around, Mysterious, pensive, and profound. As I his footsteps trace. 82 POEMS. O, tell me not that health is strong — O, tell me not that life is long — Name not to me the dance — the song — When here, these very graves among, My bed must soon be made ; And I, by Death's cold hand oppressed, Shall lie me down, a nameless guest, Till the last trump shall break my rest, And call me forth to join the Blest, Or sink in endless shade. Sept. 1820. FENELON S FOUR RULES FOR PREACHERS. CONDENSED INTO RHYME. Be master of your subject — prove Its truth — its circumstances paint ; In gentle strokes the passions move — And of a sinner make a saint. THE NATIVITY. Luke ii. 8—14. It is a lovely night ! The waning moon O'er Gaza sheds a sweet beam silently, Even unto Bethlehem's dewy plains, and soon Will merge her lustre in tlie silvery sea. POEMS. OO There is no sound on earth. A quiet charm Is in the heavens — a soft and solemn spell — Lulled even is the zephyr's breath of balm — Creation slumbers in her star-light cell. The snowy flocks, on yon outstretching field, Repose secure beneath their shepherds' eyes ; Whose arm in peril is their ready shield. Whose tender vigil guards them from surprise. Humble and unsophisticated men ! Tour heaven-taught wisdom shames the lettered sage ; In you, simplicity revives again — In you, returns the patriarchal age. Ye lowly ones ! what glorious visions wait Your eyes this night, to grandeur's gaze denied ! That greet not Herod in his hall of state, That mock Augustus on his throne of pride. And there ye sit at midnight's solemn hour ! — Now sweet discourse, now high and sacred song, Is theirs, of Him enthroned in heavenly power, And Him their hope, promised and wished so long. What sudden splendor streams along the skies ! What sun at midnight shoots his beams abroad ! The startled shepherds lift their dazzled eyes — 'Tis the Shechinah of the Lord their God ! 84 POEMS. Eternal . who may see thy face, and live ? The heart of man, e'en of the holiest, falls;, Smitten and withered by thy glory. Give On earth but glimpses — more, o'erwhelms, appak ! And thus, awe-struck, o'erwhelmed, the shepherds stood Before the glory of the angel's form; Terror swept o'er their spirits like a flood, Till his calm voice allayed the inward storm. ♦Fear not !' — in accents soft as falling dews, Thus speaks the bright ambassador of heaven — ' Fear not ! I come to bring the joyful news, ♦ To you, to all the earth, a Savior's given. * This very night the Promised Seed is born ! ' On the deep darkness in which earth is furled, * Rises the Day-star of a glorious morn, The great Restorer of a ruined world ! * Bethlehem Ephratah ! humble though thou be, * Mid Judah's thousands, rise, exulting rise ! ' Messiah claims his mortal birth from thee, * Whose goings forth of old built earth and skies ! ' Go, seek the Heir of David's royal line ! ' Go, see the lowly birthplace of your King ! * Start not — a manger holds the Babe divine, ♦ Whose birth the seraph choirs descend to sing. POEMS. 85 » What though ye find him in such mean array — * Born of a woman — cradled in the stall — 'His Godhead vested in a form of clay, *To bear Man's sorrows — He is Lord of all!' Ceased is the seraph voice. But, clear and strong, In the still air a strain of music wakes ; And on the shepherds' ear the choral song Of heaven's exulting hosts, descending, breaks :^ ' Glory to God most high ! in realms above, ' Worlds of eternal light by seraphs trod, 'Peace on the earth— to man transcendent love — 'Through God's incarnate Son. Glory to God I* 1822. THE HERALD OF THE LORD. A BIBLICAL SKETCH. Where Jordan rolls his crystal wave, Through yellow sands of Palestine, In attire rude, in aspect grave, A herald comes with powers divine, And publishes the warning word, Prepare the pathicay of the Lord . The reign of God is drawing nigh, The morning star in glory shines, POEMS. Behold the accomplished prophecy, Repent, confess, renounce your sins ; Let all thin