MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. BY W. H. H. GREER. IK ADDITION TO >V H I C H ABB \F©^\^ \P^©^E \P@\ KN TITLin MAN," "EVENING MEDITATIONS," "HONOR" AND "UNIVERSAL LOVE." The Muse hatli my companion been At morning, noon, and night. While Nature spread her varied scene Before my youthful sight : And while my heart hath felt the powers of Love,— That angel from the realms of light above, — Despair, at times, with horrible control. Hath flung his garb infernal round my soul. PITTSBURGH: PRINTED BY W. 8. HAVEN, CORNER OP MARKET AND BEOOND STREETS. 18 58. ^ / 1^7 INDEX. Stanzas, ...... Solemn Truths, One lonely hour, . . The Brush Ridge Camp-meeting, . Musings on the Brush Ridge Camp-ground, Lines to a Dove, ..... The Lark, ...... The Soul, . . . . . Written at the grave of a favorite young Lady, Farewell to a False young Lady, . A Scene on one of the Alleghenies at Day-break The Lost Brothers, Religion and Gold, .... Stanzas to an absent young Lady, Monongalia, ..... To a Young Lady, A Prayer for the Penitent, The old Log Church, , Death of Mrs. Caroline H. Hawkins, To ''Helen," .... The Christian's Request, A Tribute to the Memory of Miss Margaret A Mountain Storm, A Song, Hymn — Love Divine, Yerses, written at visiting the Grave of A Spring and Childhood, . • • A Song, The Dedication of Mt. Tabor Church, [iii] L. G. W 13 le 19 19 23 27 31 32 35 37 89 43 46 48 51 54 57 59 62 64 67 69 73 76 78 81 88 85' IV 1 iN i> E X A Song, . A Song, The Death of an Old To N . . Man, To Margaret, .... Mother, Home, and Heaven, . A Prayer, .... Elegy, .... The Atheist, .... On the Death of a Young Lady, A Song, ..... The Drunkard, Musings of a Sinner, Song of the truly Pious, Give me Solitude, The Thunder Storm, The Lover's Address to his Lady, A tribute to the Monongahela River, To Harriet, A Song, To J. S. L. An Evening in May, The Blasphemer, To J. B. W. . . To W. H. H. Greer, . To"J. B.W." . Scene in a Grove, Stanza, When I am gone, To H. B. D. . . To a Winter Wren, Carrier's Address — 1851, A Song, . To"G. C. S." . Acrostic, . Carrier's Address — 1852, Verses, on the Death of A. D. S. and Religion, Mary, his wife, 92 95 100 104 104 106 110 112 118 121 123 128 131 133 135 138 142 145 150 152 154 157 159 162 165 167 170 174 175 177 180 183 190 192 193 194 201 204 INDEX. V A Song, . To a Swallow, Despair, Remembrances, A Beautiful Scene, Stanzas, written in a public place Slavery, A Song,' ... A Song, . To an aged Friend and Poet To "Nehemiah," Farewell Lines to "Nehemiah,' To J. J. A. R , Poet, The Death of a Youth, . Despondency, To "Venicia," The old Church Yard, They pass away, A Song, Stanza, .... The Death of James R. W Taylor, Hymn, There is a Brighter World, Morning, . Love's influence, A Balm for my Heart, Liberty — Slavery, The Departed Companion To a School Mistress, The Lover to his Intended, A Song, To , The Rescue, The Victims of the Storm, The "Knob," The Death of a Young Girl, To the one whom it suits, a2 PAGE. 205 208 209 211 213 216 217 217 221 223 227 229 231 232 235 236 239 241 243 245 245 248 252 253 255 258 259 259 264 266 268 272 274 277 279 282 283 285 VI TNI>EX. PAQK. The Broken-hearted Lover, .... 287 The Woods, 290 Stanzas, ...... . 291 Pray, 294 A Song, . 295 A Scene, ..... 296 The Celebration, .... . 302 The Path of Duty, 306 A Sinner saved from the jaws of Death, . 308 There's Beauty everywhere. 310 Song of the Bridegroom, . 311 The Camp Meeting, 312 Integrity — A burst, .... . 314 The Reformer, .... 315 Doctor Z. . . 316 Kemember the Captive, . 320 My Native Place, .... . 323 I love to see, .... 324 To Dr. Z . 324 Sarah, ...... 326 Beauties of Nature, .... . 327 Love, ...... 327 To Time, . 330 Brownsville at sun-set. 331 Verses written on a blank leaf, &c. . 334 "Remember Me— M. J. L." 335 Verses written on a blank leaf, &c. . 336 To , 337 Hope, . 337 Autumn, ...... 338 Where is Pleasure found, . . . 339 Parted forever, ..... 340 I love the Mountain's rugged steeps, . 841 Man, 343 Evening Meditations, r . . . - . 349 Verses, inscribed to R. W. & A. M. Jones, & B. . 353 Honor, . 354 Universal Love, . 361 PREFACE. It has been with considerable hesitation that we have con- sented to give the present volume of Miscellaneous Poems to the public ; for we have always thought our compositions so mutilated by imperfections, that they were unworthy of public perusal. But, being ardently solicited by numerous individuals of both sexes, we have, at last, agreed to have them published in their present form, hoping that they may meet with a cordial welcome from those into whose hands they may fall. Our country is literally flooded with books; and when we think that so many authors, far superior to ourself in wisdom, have gone before us, we feel like retir- ing into the shade of our own insignificance, and yielding our claim to public attention. Though, notwithstanding the vast number and variety of books scattered throughout Christendom, there are thousands living in absolute igno- rance, principally on account of not being encouraged in the acquisition of that knowledge which alone can render them happy, and make them useful citizens. We have, generally, selected such subjects as cannot fail to interest and instruct. We expect criticism ; and we shall feel truly thankful to any person who may advance a criticism with a view to enlighten. Many, who undertake to criticise authors, instead of giving an impartial exposition of their effusions, [ vii 1 VIU PREFACE. and of setting forth their merits in their true light, indulge in the most ridiculous language, and endeavor to destroy their reputation by pouring upon them torrents of bombas- tical animadversion. But we have resolved, that in our career as an author, we will go forward feeling unintimida- ted by censure, and unexalted by panegyrics or flattery; though we shall throw our heart open to receive instruc- tion, from whatever source it may come. Dr. Spring makes the beautiful remark, that "poetry is a fire that is enkindled at the living lamp of nature, and glows only on a few favored altars." Whether our flicker- ing taper has been lit at the "lamp of nature" or " enkin- dled" at the torch of art, we have not the presumption to assert; but this much we know, that our heart has long been warmed by some mysterious influence, and song has been our chief delight. While the critic scans these humble emanations of our mind, let him take into consideration our youthful age; and further, that he is unacquainted with the circumstances which gave rise to the thoughts herein contained. Somo of our effusions have been written on the mountain top, and some in their sequestered vales: others have been penned in the silent hours of night, as we rambled, all alone, through the fields, while the moon was sailing in her silent grandeur over the world : some have been sketched amid the bustle and confusion of a jostling multitude, and others while the midnight storm went thundering in its anger across the earth. The shortness of life, the certainty of death, and the fearful realities of eternity, have ever been before our eyes, whether moving in the circles of society, or alone in solitude and meditation : frequent men- PREFACE. IX tion of the above will be found throughout the volume. Most of the songs, also found among the poems, were writ- ten at the request of different individuals : they are all of a moral caste. Being brought up among the wild old hills of Jacob's Creek, in Westmoreland county, Pa. where the scenery, continually presented to our view, was of such a character as to breathe into our mind a peculiar inspiration, at a very early age, many of the ideas embraced in the following pages — perhaps some of the best — were conceived and began to live. Though then in embryo, they have been swelling towards maturity with each succeeding year. We loved to ramble alone through the solitary woods, look upon the beauties of nature, and study the disposition and incli- nations of our own heart, while others thought we were wasting our "golden moments" in idle dreams. Chil- dren should never be discouraged from meditating — never ! Parents, never reprove them for inclining to be alone. We have frequently been charged with plagiarism ; but it has invariably come from the ignorant and the envious. We have defied such persons to refer us to a single instance wherein we had quoted from other authors without due credit, and they have totally failed to render satisfaction ; while they persisted in the declaration that they had read many of our effusions long before we were born. And now, we throw this permanent challenge into the face of the world, to point us to a single sentence quoted from the pen of another, uncredited. We may be guilty, but if so, we are unconscious of the fact. By reading the productions of others, and meditating upon their ideas advanced, it is an easy matter to imbibe them into our minds, and finally X PKEFAOK. endorse them as our own. When we hear or read the doc- trine of others, which harmonizes with our own sentiments, how naturally they seem to flow into, and become a part, of our mental structure. It has been said by some, that there is nothing original at the present age of the world ; that we gather all our knowledge from those who have lived before us. Be this as it may, we are not afraid to venture the assertion, that there are many ideas embraced in this volume, which no other brain ever did, or ever would have conceived. We have aimed at originality, both in style and thought ; how far we have accomplished our design, our readers are left to decide. The treasures of classical lore have been almost totally hidden from our grasp, and improvidence has thrown many a frowning barrier in our way ; we have caught occasional glimpses of the hill of science, and sometimes fancied we could see a laurel wreath upon its summit for our brow ; but alas ! while struggling for the sublime ascent, and pant- ing for the glories of its attainment, the clouds of misfortune have gloomed it from our vision, and the sands of a dreary wilderness were drifted in our face by the blasting winds of adversity ! Most of our poems are of a descriptive character. This course has been chosen in order that we might be original ; and not follow the channel that so many have traversed, until their fruits have become insipid to the reader's taste, and the music of their harps dull and dissonant to his ear. Scenes, that thousands have witnessed with ourself, we have celebrated in verse, and give them to the public as true descriptions of what transpired : of course we have used our poetical license. PREFACE. XI As a lengthy preface is generally considered unneces- sary ; and as we have, perhaps, protracted ours to a tedious length, we will cut it short, trusting that our pages may receive an impartial perusal, and that some good may be accomplished by our labors. W. H. H. GREER. BKOWN8VILLE, Pa. Aug. 10th, 1853. GREER'S POEMS. Stttll(5tt8. Come, happy Muse ! with glowing wand of fire, And touch and warm my heart as with a beam From Inspiration's altar; nor retire Until I've sung my contemplated theme That elevates my mind ; 'tis not a dream Of idle fancy, light, unreal, vain, But one that asks of eloquence a stream More lofty than my anxious thoughts can gain ; But pure emotions ask my harp's sublimest strain. Brush Ridge! I love thy pleasant vales and hills, Thy slopes and lawns, and wild sequester'd bowers, Thy verdant meadows, and thy crystal rills. Along whose banks I've gambolled many hours, There twining into wreaths the odory flowers ; And, charmed with sounds of vernal harmony, I've shouted o'er thy lonely woodland towers. As busy in my sportings as the bee. As merry as the lark, and as the wind as free. li [ 13 14 GREER'S POEMS. Among thy stately hills I had my birth, And 'mong them was I reared : no wonder, then, Thou art the dearest spot to me on earth, Though I may never visit thee again To roam about my former haunts ; but when I wander far away o'er sea or land Alone, or mingle in the busy scenes of men. Whilst I exist, affection's golden band Shall link me to thee, and my warmest love demand. Some, who were my companions then, are where ? Passed, in their childhood, to a brighter sphere, Where pain nor trouble never come, nor care ; Some breathe the western air, and chase the deer And buffalo o'er the prairies; others steer Their course in different climes ; but still a few Remain, unchanged, to greet me back, and cheer My melancholy heart, and stir anew The love of youthful years, — the love forever true! I feel a throb of melting tenderness, At thinking of my faithful parents' love That guided me, when in life's wilderness I started forth a dangerous path to rove : Nor time, nor change, nor age, can e'er remove The love for them that burns within my breast : It is a truth that must forever prove A boundless source of pleasure and of rest. To know that I have been with pious parents blest. GREER'S POEMS. 15 My mother taught my lips to speak the truth, When I, a child ^ did prattle on her knee; And when I grew to be a roving youth, Her kind instructions still directed me In safety over shppery paths : to flee The wiles of wickedness, and turn away From rude companions and their vanity, My father warned me oft ; which, every day, Shall be a pilot to my feet where'er I stray. It seems as if I cannot cease to sing Of childhood and its pleasures ; but, alas ! I'm forward borne on time's electric wing Toward the tomb, and shortly shall I pass Into oblivion, noteless as the grass. Each breeze that flutters o'er me seems to tell, In mournful whispers, that among the mass Of hfeless human clay I soon must dwell Inanimate — my spirit live in heaven or hell ! The immaterial and immortal part Of what I am, at death, I trust, shall blend Its joyous theme with angels, and athwart The blooming fields of bliss its wings extend In beatific, curbless flights, and spend Eternity in contemplating God And all his wondrous works ; and still ascend, With rapture, up Perfection's shining roadj Accompanied by the saints who throng the blest abode. 16 GREER'S POEMS. There is a special beauty in the thought That man may live forever if he will, Though in the grave, for centuries, may rot His "earthly tabernacle," till the shrill, Terriffie voice of Gabriel shall thrill The dead and living worlds, and bid them rise. How few do strive to save their souls until The clutch of death, in grim and wild surprise. Fastens upon their frames and dims their starting eyes I There is a horror in the thought, and, oh 1 How pressing, too, that if men disobey The laws of God through life, that they must go, At death, to dwell 'mong devils damned, and stray Through everlasting fires, where not a ray Of hope can ever reach them. 0, may I Be charmed by love divine along the way That leads to heaven; and when I come to die,^ Be borne by angels up, to live with God on high.. Sofemn ^rutOs. What is Time? an ocean wide— - A dark and stormy sea. That bears the world upon its tide. To vast eternity. GREER'S POEMS. What is Man? a wandering mite Of animated clay, Whose home must be eternal night, Or everlasting day. What is Life? a fleeting dream, That soon is past and gone, — A rolling, dashing, rugged stream. That rushes on — right on. What is Death? a monster pale, With grim and dismal face. That all mankind will soon impale Within his cold embrace. What is Hope? a cheering spark. At which we fondly stare; Without it, all were lone and dark. And wrapped in deep despair. What is Love? a holy balm. Designed to make us blest; A gentle, soft and soothing calm. That lulls the soul to rest. What is Peace? the spring of life. That makes our journey even ; It caste th out contention, strife. And points the soul to heaven. b2 17 18 GREER'S POEMS. What is Truth? an heir of light^ A child of heaven alone; As God immutable and bright, And lasting as His throne. What is Faith? the Christian's eye, By which he can behold A crown for him beyond the sky. And palms of glittering gold. What m Pride? a luring thing Enrobed in black deceit, That pierces each with poison sting. And snares unguarded feet. What am I ? ah, shocking truth! A worm, a tear, a breath, — Just left the flowery walks of youth. And running swift to death! What is Hell? Jehovah's ire — The vengeful wrath of heaven; The dark, sulphuric pit of fire. Where burn the unforgiven. What is Heaven? the home of God, Of angels, love and light; Oh, yes! it may be our abode. If we but live aright! aREER'3 POEMS. ^^ Due Eouefi) ijour. There is more pleasure in one lonely hour Spent in the shady wood, where melody Floats on the breeze that fans the blooming flower, Than in the gaudy halls of revelry. Where songsters warble from each leafy tree The sweetest strains of nature's praising song, Or where the stars smile from the canopy, Or where the crystal streamlet flows along, — There is more real joy than with the busy throng. Z^^ ;Brusf} Jli&gc (i:ttmp 31Icctino; HELD AUGUST 10, 1851. The tented grove! 0, how my bosom swells With feelings strange, yet marvellously grand. While memory fondly lingers there, beneath The airy umbrage of the spreading oaks. Whose leafy branches hundreds canopied! On one of old Brush Kidge's breezy hills, — Most sacred to my heart from childhood's dawn, For there my intellect tuition first * Received; and there I erst began to love My Httle school companions, who, like me. To riper years have grown, and scattered out 20 GBEEB'B P0EM8. By Fate's unsparing cast, like chaff before The ruthless hurricane, upon the sea Of life, to toss athwart its surging deep^ And meet, alas! its maddening waves, and in Its angry whirlpools often see dread Death's Bleak visage coldly, grimly looking out; And there I first began to draw from out The pearly well of knowledge wholesome draught, And nature's various beauties to admire; — Though leagues away, my spirit now returns To contemplate the scene of Israel's camp: — 'Tis Sabbath morn. All glorious rolls the sun, In radiant grandeur, o'er the mountain tops. That rise in gorgeous blueness far along The bright, un vapored oriental sky. All hail, thou flaming orb! there's not a cloud In all the universe to dim thy light, Or nubefy one single golden beam. Throughout the azure "ocean hung on high," 'Tis all a "waveless calm." Celestial morn! That brings no scowl on all creation's deep! The winds are motionless, and in the caves Of other climes the jarring thunders sleep. Victorious morn! thrice so, because last eve The elements had horrid war, and drenched This span of earth with gushing floods — of rain; But thou, triumphant, hast emerged forth From starless, lowering night; and seemeth as GREER'S POEMS 21 A full blown rose just opened from the mould. Transporting hour! I stand among the tents, And list, with rapture, to the hymns and prayers Of morning worshippers ascending to The Lord, and pouring out rich melody Through the umbrageous woods, that melts upon The fragrant air as notes from Zion's harp. My ravished soul has joy too big for speech! For 0, behold! along the lanes and ways, Where'er the eye, dehghted, turns to see, Long streams of living dust come pouring in. Centripetal, to this alluring spot — This rendezvous of the great Shepherd's flock That herds among Brush Ridge's lovely hills. And grazes on the living pasture fields. Watered with showers of heaven's sweetest love. Each heart is moved with reverential awe; And every eye with admiration beams, To see a living ocean fill the grove, Wave rolling inward after mighty wave, Until the lofty oaks seem rooted in A swelling, dense and moving mass of life. And still they come! This morning represents The final day, when Gabriel's trump shall call All nations to the judgment bar of God. And yonder, now, ^Yithin the pulpit, sit — Behold them there — the messengers of peace, 22 GREER'S POEMS. Employed by God to stand on Zion's walls, And preach salvation to a dying world: How calm their brows, and yet what holy smiles Are playing lightly o'er their reverend cheeks! Blest organs of Almighty God! how grand. Refreshing, and "how sweet your tidings are!" A youthful minister arises, and, With voice as charming as Apollo's harp, He sends it swelling through the stilly air, To an attentive and enchanted host. He finishes. The congregation swells; For still they come! Another, who has long Proclaimed "good news" to wretched, sinful man. Arises, and in deepest thunder-tones His audience startles; and the woods resound. 'Tis o'er. The multitude begins to move. A lapse of busy minutes intervenes; And then, another at his post, calls in The mingling throng, and plainly "sets" before Them "life and death" — sets heaven and hell — and pleads For all to "choose" for heaven. He finishes. And then the shades of Summer's balmy eve, In solemn silence, closed around the world. That night I'll ne'er forget while memory lives; And many, who that evening heard the voice Of Zion's spirit-charming eloquence. Proclaiming loud the everlasting Truth, GREER'S POEMS 23 While sailing down the rugged stream of time, Will hug it as a balsam to their hearts, And love its richness through eternity! Impress it, Lord, on every heart, that it ^^Of life may prove a savor unto life." 'Mong mingling prayers, and songs, and shouts, I saw The palsied stretch their withered hands to heaven. And they were healed; the blind were made to see; The dumb to speak; the lame to walk; and all Who loved the Saviour and his glorious cause. Whose hearts were 'lumed with heaven's cheering light, Did roll a "hallelujah" up to God, At which the very angels leaped above. And -answered back with shouts of higher love! Oct. 24, 1851. 31TUSIU0S ON THE BRUSH RIDGE CAMP GROUND. Almighty God ! who hung the azure scroll Of heaven betwixt thy lofty throne and earth. And made yon silvery Queen to promenade Its vast cerulean fields in mien sublime, And spangled it with other moons, and stars. And worlds, of beauty most mysterious; And made the sunny day for man to toil. The stilly eve for sweet reflection, and 24 QUEER'S POEMS. The starry night for slumber, rest and dreams; — In true devotion would I offer up To Thee an anthem from this holy grove! My harp! roll forth thy purest strains, while o'er Thy tingling chords my eager fingers stray; Melodious accents breathe, that many hearts May thrill, in fond remembrance of the place — The consecrated bower in which I sing. My soul in tenderness and joy flows up Toward the God of love, while here I sit And muse at Zion's hallowed vestibule! A pulseless silence broods profound in this Fair woodland temple of the Lord, except A soft, harmonious whispering among The boughs of these tall, patriarchal oaks; A mellow sighing of the fragrant breath Of early Spring, forth stealing from the south. Pale twilight lingers o'er the western hills. Where Venus twinkles in her glorious sphere; And Cynthia calmly sails the ether sea. Watching, with virgin glance, my reverie. How oft have angels spread their starry wings Among these trees, and borne the tidings up To listening, anxious multitudes on high. Who throng forever round the pearly gates Of Paradise, to catch the news from earth That hell was being robbed of candidates. And Satan loosing faithful pioneers! GREER'S POEMS 25 * I well remember, when a prattling boy, How much I loved to leap from yonder walls. And gambol o'er these mouldering logs, and dance About these aged oaks, blending my voice, Most blithely, with my little school-fellows. Within that sacred wooden domicile Were lessons of a priceless value stamped Upon my intellect, irraseable. 'Twas in those gladsome days I witnessed here The Holy Spirit operate on man. Turning his soul from sin to righteousness; Yes, here — -just here — I saw the mourners pour Their tears, and lift distressful cries to heaven. Imploring pardon at the hands of God, Through Christ, who died to save a guilty world; And then I saw them leap from sin's foul grasp — Spring from the yawning jaws of Tartarus — And swell loud hallelujahs to the skies. Thus stubborn man, sometimes, will bend his knee Beneath the goading weight of conscious guilt, And ask his God the burthen to remove Ere it shall crush him into nether hell. Oh, harp! thy happy numbers still prolong; For now my spirit seems with pinions dressed, That flutter with ecstatic joyousness At what I view with retrospective eye: — *An old log school-house, near the encampment, c 26 GREER'S POEMS. When Summer last her golden opulence Spread o'er these fertile hills, and in the vales Her teeming treasures heaped, the mighty God Of Sabbath among the people moved. This "land of steady habits" felt his power; And skepticism, in all its ugliness. Then stood aghast and bowed its head — and wept. Some old, hard-hearted moralists did stalk Bewildered and confounded through the camp, And muttering gruffly to themselves the while, "These 'noisy Methodists' are crazy, all." The voice of one, — on whom affliction since Did lay a hectic hand, and bring him nigh The dark and lonesome stream of death unawed, — Proclaimed alarming thunders through the camp, Lodging the arrows of conviction in The sinners' hearts, which made them freely bleed. To those old, inconsistent, stiff-necked, proud. Self-righteous, vaunting, stupid moralists. He was a special foe. He boldly stormed Their battlements, and shook their sand-based faith. Methinks I hear his mighty voice yet roll Its thunder-peals of warning in mine ears — ''Break off your sins hy righteousness^ and your Iniquities hy turning to the LordV His language, like a sword two-edged and keen, Swayed fearlessly by his stentorian voice. Made awful havoc 'mong the Devil's ranks. GREER'S POEMS. 27 His warnings fell with most resistless weight On many hearts, as did they fall on mine, And stamped a deathless impress there — of love ! God grant him life and courage, health and strength, And all who labor with him here for good. To batter down the flimsy barricades Of foul sectarianism, and 'mong the hills Of old Brush Ridge do mighty works for God ! March, 1852. Ciiies to tt Done. 'Tis evening now, And all is still, — But see, the sun, with cloudless brow, Is setting far behind the hill; And here, upon this oaken height. His golden beams are lingering bright On every bough. From this lone spot I gaze around; — List! — what is that my ear has caught? What can it be, this mournful sound? 'Tis pleasant, yet a piteous strain, And stirs within my musing brain The richest thought. 28 GREER'S POEMS Again the tone, In solemn sound, Floats througli the trees that all have thrown Their robe of '^glories" to the ground; And now their branches, long and bare, Are reared among the frosty air Where tempests moan. Ah! yonder flits A lonely dove, — It lights; see how it shivering sits. And mourns, perhaps, for its "true love." Poor turtle! thou art sad, I see; Hast thou no mate to comfort thee In this cold grove? Why thus, away In this wild wood. Dost thou at evening deign to stray, And coo in such a plaintive mood? Ah, yes! I understand it now. Thy bosom mate is lost, and thou Dost want for food. Still wilt thou roam, Or with me go? I'll take thee in my bosom home, And shelter thee from storm and snow; For thou mayest perish here to-night, GREER'S POEMS. And never see to-morrow's light — Come, lone one, come. Poor, hapless dove! The day is past, And here the winds begin to rove, And drifts the snow, and wails the blast; Oh, why not quit that leafless tree Just now, and come? this night may be- lt will — thy last. Thy mate is lost, I heard thee say, And thou are destined in the frost To breathe thy fleeting life away: Thy mourning here will not be long — My bosom melts to know thy song Must soon exhaust. But, more than thine, My gentle dove! Would ache this throbbing heart of mine, Were it to lose its "only love;" 'Twould live a while to mourn and sigh. Then droop and faint, lay down and die — To grief resign. My day would be A gloomy shade; C2 29 30 GREER'S POEMS. And, like yon setting sun, from me Would every beam of pleasure fade: I'd welcome then the "monster, Death," More chill than bleak Boreas' breath, To set me free. 'Tis morning now. Again I tread Along the hill's majestic brow, But drifting snows around me spread; — Last evening here 'twas noiseless, still, But now the storm wails o'er the hill; And every bough Shrieks in the blast that howls in dread Commotion round and o'er my head. See yonder, how Those mighty oaken monarchs move; — But where's my charming turtle dove? Alas! it's dead! The pelting storm Has laid it low; Yes, here's its httle lifeless form Enshrouded in the chilly snow. So we awhile the storm must breast. Then, at .Jehovah's stern behest. We'll be no more; But lie enwrapt beneath the sod. Our souls go up to meet their God GREER'S POEMS. In endless rest; Or sink, with fiends and ghosts to dwell Among the damned in fires of hell, Where lightnings flash, And demons yell, And thunders crash, And billows swell, And everlastiDg tempests roar! 31 eOe £arfi. Behold the lark, with soft, light wings Bedipped in morning dew; He soars aloft and sweetly sings In realms of ether blue. His pinions bear him high from earth- How swift he mounts away! And chimes his notes of vernal mirth To greet the dawn of day. Beneath he leaves the flowery sod. As if it were too low. And flies away, as though to God With songs of praise he'd go. 32 GREER'S POEMS. Oh, happy bird ! when skies are blue, Of it thou seemest proud! And thou canst bid the earth adieu, And flutter in the cloud. I've watched thy flight when morn's first rays Had touched the eastern skies, And listened to thy melting lays On evening breezes rise. The blossoms on the grassy plain. So fragrant and so fair. Thy happy wings could not restrain From leaping in the air. Thy mellow notes are sung in praise Of Him who reigns above. And teach mankind their hearts to raise To heaven in songs of love. KOe Souf. In every human heart there is a spring, A stream whose waters never dry, but sweep Forever on, as if on Hghtning's wing They were conveyed towp.rd the boundless deep GREER'S POEMS. 33 Of dread efernity unknown; they leap In living issues forth, from being's birth, And flow through time, — tears, sighs, grief, sor- row, sleep; — Enjoy its beauties, — smiles, flowers, music, mirth, — And then are called from all the changing scenes of earth. Man's soul is not created for a day, But to survive the light of moon and sun. And planted here in tenement of clay. To bud, swell, blossom, bloom; and wisely shun The bhghting chills of sin which have undone Uncounted millions of the fairest mould : It cannot be extinguished, but shall run Forever parallel with Him who rolled The earth upon his palm, and all his works behold. That is man's destiny, according to The Word revealed to him, if he complies With its divine injunctions, and will do His Maker's will with purpose true and wise; — But if he acts to the reverse, he dies The deathless death of pain, remorse, grief, Woe, Shame, agony and torture; where the cries, The yells, shrieks, howls, groans, oaths of demons flow Through all hell's dark domains — there he is doomed to go! 34 GREER'S POEMS. The soul is but a vast, unbounded thought, Invisible, eternal, spark of day! A branch of Deity, most strangely wrought To be unfettered — privileged to stray At pleasure through the universe ; a ray ; The image of its Maker ; kin ally Of angels — endless years can ne'er decay Its immortality ; a world, a sky Oft gloomed with clouds of sorrow ; an infinite eye ! Oh, soul ! think what thy latter end may be, And seek a happy home beyond this sphere ; From time thy flight is to eternity ; And that dread hour may be approaching near. When at the judgment bar thou shalt appear! Heaven woos thee up, earth holds thee down, and hell Beneath thee yawns ; there is no pausing here, In idle dreams, between two worlds to dwell; Another year — day — hour, thy destiny may tell. What multitude of passions form the soul ! They, when unbridled, wage continual war; An^ love o'er all should have complete control. As Sol has influence upon each star : Hope casts its anchor in the future far. And looks expectant still for bliss ; Despair Takes mastery, sometimes, to cloud and mar Our joys; and Avarice crowds upon us care; Hatred and Anger to remorse our bosoms bare ! GREER'S POEMS. 35 lUritfen at tOe ^graue of a Jaoonfe ISomu] Cabi). I bend me o'er thy mouldering clay, Where thou for years hast calmly slept : The tears of love must have their way — I weep for thee as once I wept. That time I never would forget, If it to do I had the power, For then I saw in vapors set A brilliant star — ah ! gloomy hour. When thou wert borne to this lone spot, I followed close behind thy bier ; I could but mourn — oh, cruel lot! — My only language was a tear. When thou upon the bed of pain, In fever wrapped, didst fading lie, I sat me there and saw thee wane, But dreamed not thou so soon shouldst die. I care not if the foolish sneer, The giddy laugh, the thoughtless blame, — My heart must vent its feelings here. And stir anew affection's flame. Alas ! I quafted a bitter cup When death I saw had struck the blow; 36 GREER'S POEMS. But angels caught thy spirit up, And left mine here to mourn below. One thought I cherish, which revives The spark of comfort in my heart. That where thy happy spirit lives, Death enters not with sword nor dart. Another happy thought is mine. That where thou art, I, too, can go. And join again my soul with thine. In love more pure than earth can know. Another still — that thou dost come, By day and night, to guard my way Toward thy bright, celestial home. From which my nature deigns to stray. But still with grief my heart o'erflows. My eyes are full of tears, my brain Is burning — all the bitter woes Of former days I feel again. Thy flashing eyes are slumbering here, Thy silken tresses moulder too, — And yet I cannot check the tear That fills my eye — I loved thee true ! Worms have consumed thy lily breast, And rioted among thy brain ; GRKER'S POEMS. 37 But still thj dust shall sweetly rest Till it is waked to life again. Thine arms that once enfolded me, Have turned to ashes, lifeless, cold; Thine image yet I plainly see, But still thy form cannot behold. Here, as a tribute of my love, I plant a rose-bush o'er thy head, And turn to join the widowed dove In mourning for the lovely dead ! 'fttreuicff to tt fafse ?Jouun £«&»). Go, maiden ! I will cease to sigh ; No more shall grieve this breast of mine, Nor wish to know the reason why I could not claim that heart of thine. I saw thee weep the crystal tear — Methought it was the tear of love; And then I felt a mystic fear That it was feigned my faith to prove. And so it was ; — true friendship weeps A nobler, purer drop serene; 38 GREER'S POEMS. The heart that prompts it ever keeps The memory of its object green. Thy downy bosom, fair and soft — The pillow of my youthful cheek — Has charmed my pilgrim spirit oft Its witching loveliness to seek. No other joys were half so grand, No other pleasures half so sweet, As when I clasped thy tender hand, And felt thy blooming bosom beat. No moments seemed so full of bliss, No other feelings so divine. As when I pressed affection's kiss Upon those honeyed lips of thine. I caught the accents of thy tongue That breathed a mild, a heavenly air, As if an angel to me sung To lure my thoughts away from care. I was deceived — I had not learned That woman's heart so vain could be. Or from thee I had ne'er been spurned, Nor ever thou been loved by me. The leaf that's driven in the wind Is pathless wheresoe'er 'tis borne ; GREER'S POEMS. 39 So I've been pathless, wayward, blind, Loving, unloved, despised, forlorn. And when 1 thought I had a star To cheer my path and curb my flight, I found it was a phantom, far Receding as I sought its light. Delusive maid ! that star was thee — A shining orb for fools to love ; A brilliant thing of vanity. That never more this heart can move. And so it is — it may be well — That we have thus been cast apart ; I'll breathe to thee my last farewell, If thou wilt give me back my heart ! A Scene on one of t^e dffegOenies, AT DAY-BREAK. Bold mountain throne ! pitched by Almighty hands High as the course of clouds; most proudly thou Art pinnacled in ether, awful, grand, Majestic, everlasting and sublime! I stand upon thy top in ecstacy And awe commingled, while I see around 40 GREER'S POEMSr. Me, lifting up their pyramidic crowns, Thy fellow-summits, which beneath thee must Forever dwell, less lofty than art thou; And while I view the star-bespangled arch, That soon a flood of Hght shall overwhelm. And, too, thy timber tassels crimson o'er With glorious golden beams; and to the east And west, afaj*, unfurls pure grandeur to My vision. Many centuries have swept Away, like silent winds, to realms unknown, Since thy unmouldering granite columns stoodv Impenetrable, to the first wild storm That galloped o'er the western wilderness. Or braved the fury of Euroelydon. I've viewed thee often from the far-off west, Like some great giant panoplied in clouds. And softly mantled in unfading blue. Again I've watched thy heaven-pillowed top Until I saw the morning sun from back Of thy stern breast slow roll his burning brow; Then did I pant to tread thy woody crown. And meditate above the bustling world. ■ Eternal pyramid of nature ! Oft Against thy rock-bound sides immutable Have dashed the tempest's angry cavalcadesy Red with the rage of conflict, and in might Tremendous, wearing often powers of black. aRBJSR'ii POEMS. 41 Tumultuous wrath. The mighty Thunderer His shafts has rattled 'mong thj eldest pines, And plunged them 'gainst thy ever-during ribs, As if to penetrate thy massive depths And rift thine iron bowels ; while his fierce. Red, horrid, snaky blazes coiled around Thy cloud-scarfed head and scorched thy shaking locks. But, what a different scene I now behold — Delightful, holy picture to my eyes! My senses swim in Fancy's dreaming sea, Where real and imaginary things Seem blended — penciled in celestial light ; My thought careers on wings of wondrous speed, Back, tracing o'er the dim and fading Past, Upon the fleeting Present perches, and The Future's shady vista penetrates, In which unfolds afar on beauteous fields Unnumbered glories unapproachable. As though it were from old Atlanta's breast, In cloudless 'fulgence now Aurora mild Her yellow fore-top pushes up through space Nocturnalized, yet not with vapors strewn, In which ten thousand thousand orblets glow, Reflecting down to earth the smiles of Him Whose power heaped bald Chimborazo up ; Crowned old Stromboli with eternal snow ; From^dark Vesuvius draws intestine fires; Spreads beauty on the ocean, land and sky, d2 42 SREER'S FOEHS, And this stupendous pinnacle upreared ; Where the strong eagle would be proud to perc!i> And rest his wings from soaring to the sun. What strange extremes are blending in the east [ There light and darkness softly meet abreast, As though contending for immensity ; But night retires from the advance of day — Or, seemingly, she yields the mystic field, And backward slowly moves her ebon pall To cap the great Pacific, and enfold In deeper slumber still the mighty west. I now bethink me how, like yonder blush That shuts the very stars aback from view, The first bright morn of nature broke upon A dark and pulseless world ; when Phoebus rolled His flaming chariot wheels along the broad, Foundationless highway of space, traced out For him to nin by wise Omnipotence. Fame's temple does this summit represent — High, gorgeous, changeless, and immovable. How few of all who've labored to ascend Its rugged steeps, have reached Fame's genial top. And with the power of genius and of thought Enlinked their names with immortality. And saw beneath them move a praising world ! GREER'S POEMS. 43 Dread AUeghenies! endless chain of hills! Pouring pure crystal torrents ever down Thy vales, o'erhung with trees of deathless green, And walled with ivy-covered battlements. My heart is full of adoration when I "look through nature up to nature's God I" One of creation's orphans desolate Am I, all solitary and alone — (Not all alone, or soHtary quite,) Communion holding with the universe. While here I stand upon this awful height Of proud Columbia, basking in the beams Of Sol, now heaving up his fiery face That's blushed last night into nonentity ! ^fje Cost aSrotOers.* Oh, fated boys ! how brief their day ! How early snatched from earth away! Adown, beneath the smothering tide, Without a friendly arm to save. They sunk and perished side by side, And found, alas! a "watery grave." Whilst gaily bathing in the stream, With minds transporting in the dream * Two little brothers, who were drowned at Brownsville, Pa. July 11, 1851, while bathing in the Monongahela River. 44 URBER'S POEMS, Of childhood's purest love ; when not A shade of sorrow o'er them stole — It was their hapless, mournful lot, To sink beneath the water's roll. Methinks I see them stretch their hands For help, while struggling on the sands That were to be their dying bed ; But ah ! thej gasp and reach in vain, Until the vital spark is fled That man can ne'er restore again. Mj fancy weeps as o'er them now With pity uncontrolled I bow, And view them as two tender flowers ' Just opening to the cloudless sky, Then plucked by death's relentless poweis. And plunged beneath the flood — to die. 'Twas hard to give them up, 'tis true, And bid them here a long adieu ; But then we hope they're now at rest Beyond the starry dome above. Reposing on the Saviour's breast, And drinking from His sea of love. Oh, parents ! mourn them not, for they Are gems that deck the world of day ! Rescued in childhood from the powers Of sin and Satan, they have fled GREER'S POEMS. 45 To bloom among the cherub flowers That o'er the fields of glory spread. And, stricken brothers ! now bereft, Mourn not, although your side they've left; For in a crystal stream above They'll bask and bathe forevermore — The stream of God's eternal love, That rolls no wave nor has a shore ! When conflagrating flames conspire To wrap the world in raging fire. High o'er the melting blaze their souls In deathless ecstacy shall dwell, — While endless cycles onward roll Their tongues will warble, "All is well!" With golden harps and silvery wings, Among the host that ever sings. They'll fly and chant their melody, Till heaven's bright dominions ring; And there, to all eternity. They'll praise their great Redeemer, King. They're lost to us at present here. But why for them should sorrow's tear Be wept ? because their bodies slumber ? Why not look up, and smiling, say, " Lord, save us with thy ransomed number, Where tears nor sorrows find their w^ay !" 46 GREER'S POEMS. Go search the depths of Ophir's mine, And call Golconda's treasures thine, And all their wealth and worth combine, Then, miser, hug it to thy heart ; But, ah ! it cannot make thee blest, Or buy thy soul a moment's rest. Nor cleanse thy sin-polluted breast, Nor e'en a ray of joy impart. Go search old Ocean's pearly deeps, Or dig famed California's steeps. Or rob Peru of all her heaps, And in thine arms grasp Chili's ore ; Then, at thy gorged coffers, kneel. And there canst thou j)resume to feel A smile of bliss they can reveal ? No, not with all thy glittering store. Go wash the gold-besprinkled sand On wild Australia's distant strand; Have India's wealth at thy command. And all the golden gods of Rome; Then bow and worship what thou hast, Or gather more and clutch it fast, And with it all canst thou, at last. Expect to buy in heaven a home ? GREER'S POEMS. Ah ! if thou dost, 'twill surely leave Thee in eternal gloom, to grieve That gold had power to deceive And rob thy soul of endless rest. This world hath not a charm but what Will fade and wither, die and rot ; Then, mortals, struggle for it not. Or it may curse you when possessed. Oh! there's a priceless, glowing prize, That all the wealth of earth outvies, And buoys our hope beyond the skies. Where avarice tortures not the soul ; Religion is its wholesome name ; And all our fears and all our shame Do vanish, when its gentle flame Within our bosoms has control. 'Tis free for all whose hearts, contrite. Are humbled by the Gospel's light, To bow and ask for it aright From Him who turneth none away ; Then, worldling, give thy follies o'er, And ope thy coffers and thy door, And send' the gospel to the poor; Enjoy its blessings while you may. Go! spread its glories to the world, While Zion's banner is unfurled ; 47 48 GREER^S POEMS. And let each bosom be empearled With pure, expanding Christian love; And let the heathen's clouded mind Be 'lumined up — his soul refined ; And every one that now is blind Behold a crown for him above. Oh, Cheerfulness! forever buoy my mind Above the gloom of fell despondency ; For raised by this^ it leaves despair behind, And plunged in that, 'tis fearful misery. Stanzas, TO AN ABSENT YOUNG LADY The sun is reclining afar in the west, In dark-rising vapors enfolding his breast ; The song of the robin is heard on the hill, And lowly beneath me is murmuring the rill ; The leaves are light-stirring upon the tall trees. As softly floats through them the odorous breeze ; But still I am lonely, and so it must be — For I only am happy, sweet maiden,* with thee. As shadows flit over the woodland and field. And nature to darkness and slumber must yield. There seems to be something I cannot explain GREER'S POEMS. 49 Steals into my bosom and floats on my brain ; It touches my soul with emotions sublime, And seems to infuse itself into my rhyme — 'Tis highly enrapturing ; — what can it be That draws my attention so warmly to thee ? 'Tis truly a pleasure to feel and to know There's something to comfort our being below ; And woman can charm us, and cheer us, and bless, And render us happy by magic caress. She sndiles away anguish, and sadness, and tears. And lightens our burthen when sorrow appears; Her voice, like an angel's, bids trouble depart. And whispers a tempest of care from the heart! The pinions of evening are widely unfurled. And darkness is softly encircling the world ; The insects are humming around my retreat. And the robins their carols sublimely repeat, — All bidding good-bye to the sun that has fled From the fields of bright azure to a vapory bed ; Along the dark valley the rill in its glee Seems merrily singing, sweet maiden, of thee ! There's a pleasure in solitude, (found there alone,) When the mantle of evening o'er nature is thrown. Like the robe that enveloped fair Venus, whose charms Arrested the traveler with pleasing alarms ; To the wild shady bower how oft do I steal, Where only that pleasure celestial I feel, 50 aRBBB'B POEMS. In fond recollection, dear maiden, of thee, Whose captive I am, nor desire to be free. Bright Vesper is wreathing herself in a cloud, Appearing as moumfal as Hope in her shroud, When her anchor is broken, and tempest and surge 'Neath Falsehood's black waters forever submerge . Her being and beauties ; — distinctly I hear The voice of a spirit breathe into mine ear, "^i/hope shall ne'er perish;" — on Love's sunny sea 'Twill anchor forever, sweet maiden, with thee. O'er Memory's ocean comes rolling anew The feelings that 'rapt me when first to my view Thy figure most graceful and lovely appeared, Which since to my bosom is tenfold endeared By virtue and modesty in it combined, With a heart that is gentle, afiectionate, kind ; And such is a treasure whose worth is untold — A thousand times more to be valued than gold ! The heart that is loveless is dreary and dark As Clullon's deep dungeon, where never a spark From the altar of friendship could 'lumine the goal, Nor a sound break the silence save Leman's mad roll! The midnight of misery dwells in its core. And the surges of torment lash round it and roar: Hard, barren and sullen it gropes through the gloom, And cares not the moment it drops in the tomb. QBEER'S POEMB 51 The heart that is filled with love's heavenly light, Has sunshine abundant and never a night ; 'Tis like the fair star that is placed in the sky, Far over the tempests and clouds dwelling high ; A vapor may cross it a moment, but then How soon it glows brighter and purer again — So may it be ever my lot to reveal Such love to thy vision as that which I feel. The giddy may view me with scoff or with sneer, And rail at the glitter of love's burning tear. As from my soul's fountain, too strong for control. It springs to my eye with a dance of my soul ; And Oh ! in thy smiles there is joy for my heart, That wins me to seek thee wherever thou art : Where'er I may journey, where'er I may dwell, I'll love and adore thee ; so, dearest, farewell ! 3Tlononoafitt. I love the grassy beach to promenade Of Monongalia's gently flowing tide, Or sit me down, alone, beneath the shade Of oak or elm that towers at its side ; And there behold the gorgeous steamer dart Along its bosom, tossing madly wide The foaming waves, as if she'd rift apart Its depths, — the massive waters e'en divide. 52 GREER'S POEMS. And I have seen the storm across it sweep, Each blast still fiercer than the one before, As if it would in fury bare the deep. And drive the churning waters all ashore ; The lowering clouds above it darkly scowl, And forky blazes streak their faces o'er ; The dismal thunders burst and wildly howl, Harsh mingling with the raging tempest's roar. But when the tempest sleeps and all is still, How calmly does it glide along its way, Bearing the impress of the fertile hill. And flowery banks, and trees that proudly sway Their stately tops and leafy branches o'er Its limpid bosom ; — there I love to stray At eventide along the verdant shore. And meditate when vesper breezes play. Yes, meditate on ages long since gone. When all these hills and valleys did resound With the red Indian's song and shout : not one Is left the fearful tocsin now to sound, Or through the darksome wilderness to scout ; Or, with a merciless and savage bound. Leap in upon the doe and fawn ; or route And fell the buck and buffalo to the ground. These hills that lift their fertile heads aloft. Where now such beauty, wealth and grandeur glow, I love ; especially where zephyrs soft GREER'S POEMS. 53 Waft mildly o'er the waving corn, and go Light whispering through the sugar groves, where birds And insect haunt, that flying sweetly throw Their music on my ear, which oft has stirred My thoughts to soar, when faintly drooping low. Beloved river ! here thou flowest on Adown thy channel in proud majesty, — Hast flowed for many ages past and gone, — Shall flow for generations yet to be. If earth were searched from centre to each pole. Another were not found more fair than thee ; So rich thy borders and so smooth thy roll! Thou art the stream, the glorious stream for me! The hills their mighty treasures here unfold ; More to be prized, more worthy to be sought, Are they than California's mines of gold. Where all the world seems verging to a spot: Yes, here are peace and pleasure with thy wealth, Bestowing riches never to be bought Of soHd minds by yellow dust; and health Lights myriad cheeks, by gold nor silver got. Red Battle* once did stamp his bloody heel In fury at thy side, and fiercely yell; And hundreds at his blasting touch did reel, And fast before his iron bullets fell As gallant warriors as ever bore * Braddock's Defeat, e2 54 GREER'S POEMS. A sword or musket when the tocsin-bell Did peal, "To arms!" And weltering in their gore, They bade to battle, friend and foe, " Farewell." Nor did our heroes falter on the field 'Mid storms of balls and arrows, and the rave Of rabid Gauls and copper fiends, or yield When wounded fell Britannia's chieftain brave! And when the ground was strewn with gory dead, And groaning, tossing, dying, then to save Our threatened realm a mighty arm did spread The flag of Liberty o'er land and wave. Nor did Columbia's brave and valiant band All perish ere that bloody fight was done, But were conducted by a gallant hand That struck for liberty — the fearless one, Whose brilliant glories on that awful day Broke through the gloom — it was bold freedom's sun That dawned upon young America — It was our noble father — Washington ! £o a Ifouno tahx). Thou art the one In whose celestial presence I can feel The genial influence of love to steal GREER'S POEMS. 55 Into my breast, and run Through every vein Hke living fire divine, And round my soul its softening flames entwine. I've felt before. For other maids, affection's fervent blaze, And with my harp have sung aloud their praise; But, ah ! it brought no more Than frowning looks, and words that disapproved The tribute of my heart that truly loved. Thine eyes bespeak The ardor of affection in thy breast, Where I would lay my head and sweetly rest; And on thy rosy cheek How fondly would I print the holy seal . Of love's devotion, which for thee I feel. Is love a dream? No! it is real as the sun that rides Through ether deeps, — or as the moon that glides With soft and silvery beam Around the arch nocturnal; and as clear As crystal springs, or night's pellucid tear. Who says 'tis all A shadow — all a phantom — never felt Its burning beauties through his bosom melt; He might as justly call 56 GREER'S POEMS. The mighty sun a cold and feeble spark, That glimmers in a sky forever dark. What! say that love Is but a speculation of the brain? Ah, base assertion, foolish, worse than vain! As well attempt to prove That yonder stars that twinkle in the sky Are only gems to please the gazer's eye. Who cannot tell How it infuses glory through the soul, And chains grim anger 'neath its mild control? Or who, that's felt its spell Flung o'er his spirit in a golden glow. That will not seek its deeper depths to know ? Love was the theme Of ancient bards who struck their harps of gold, Until their music down to us hath rolled ; Their pleasant tinghngs seem To be the honeyed voice of love that sings While hovering o'er the soul on odory wings. That look of thine, Those charming smiles, and that angelic voice. Have bhss for me that makes my heart rejoice ; And if this gift of mine May meet thy approbation, then I'll be Most happy, if thou wilt remember me. GREER'S POEMS. R yraijer for tfje l^Teriitent. Great God ! descend and roll This burthen from my aching breast, And quickly let my mourning soul In thee find rest. My course has been from thee Since first the stage of life I trod ; But now unto thine arms I'd flee. My Saviour, God. The way of sin is hard, And in it I no more will dwell, Or I may reap a dread reward In flames of hell ! I pour the tears of grief And penitence, thy love to gain ; In thee, 0! let me find relief From every pain. There is no peace on earth, Unless it from thy presence flow ; For all the joys of human mirth Are mixed with wo. I turn my back on hell. And from the wiles of Satan flee, 57 58 GBEEB'g P0EM8. And all mj wrongs and follies tell, In prayer to thee. Oh! blot mj sins away; Bid all my fears and shame depart. And let thy love's reviving ray Illume my heart. My God, forgive, forgive ! Thy Son didst die on Calvary, That I — unworthy I — ^might live Eternally. I know thou wilt not turn My anxious soul away oppressed ; For thou hast said that " Those who mourn ShaU all be blessed!" My pride is broken down ; And all my crimes I ask forgiven, Because I want a starry crown To wear in heaven. By nature I am lost, — Lone, wandering on life's troubled sea. On whose wild waves I have been tossed Away from thee. The thunders o'er me roll, And high the foaming billows swell. GKEKU'H I'OEMS 59 Bufc thou canst save my wrecking soul From yawning hell. Bestow the priceless pearl, And make me rich while here I bow, The beauties of thy love unfurl, And save me now! ' I long for thy embrace ; Oh, Saviour! take me in thine arms; Reveal thy reconciled face In smiles and charms. Thou'rt coming, Lord ; I feel My spirit drawing out to thee : Thy dying blood my wounds wilt heal, And set me free. e^e 0(b £00 (i^^urc^. Ye mouldering walls! how sacredly ye've stood, While more than half a century has swept Into eternity! The evening breeze « Steals through your crevices and fans my cheek, Where I have stolen from the busy world To live a while in stilly solitude, 60 GREER'S POEMS. And meditate on departed years. The sun rolls down the western skies, and pours His beams of glory through your shattered roof, As though 'twere heaven smiling sweetly down In memory of souls here born to God. Oh, veteran temple! hands that reared thee up. Ere thee have fallen 'neath the weight of age, And many of them lie just there beside Thee, wrapped in wakeless slumber in the ground; But thou dost stand a holy monument. Where Zion's thunders have proclaimed to scores The Word of Life, by which their souls were saved From everlasting sorrow, shame and death; For many here have found a balm to heal Their every wound, and draw their thoughts away From things that perish — evil, carnal things. And fix them fast on fadeless things above. No splendid workmanship in thee is found, Nor costly drapery adorns thy walls; Not like the gaudy temples which have been Erected in these modern days to be The gods of worship ; low idolatry, To worship aught but God, the mighty One, High throned above the skies eternally! But thou 'wast framed when Christianity Was young in Pennsylvania's western wilds, And long hast sheltered 'neath thy homely roof. IJREER'S POEMS. 61 From winter's storms, and summer's scorching suns, The followers of the true and living God, ''Who hangs the Universe upon his arm," And "marks the sparrow's fall," — hears sinners plead When bowed in penitence; when steeped in wo. When staggering 'neath their loads of guilt and shame, And tortured with remorse, — He hears their cries, And from the golden hills of heaven stoops. And lifts them to the skies in point of love. Time rolls away its mystic flight of years. Sweeping the nations to oblivion down. Of whose existence scarce a trace is left; Of pride, wealth, wisdom, fame, worth, greatness, power. Arms, commerce, war, peace, union, love. No record tells, no tongue survives to speak; But dim Forgetfulness o'ersweeps them as They lie entombed in an eternal night! — And thou art crumbling, venerable fane ! The tooth of Time is preying on the walls. And soon, like every other work of man. Shall perish in oblivion ; — soon like those Who shaped thy tottering form, and worshiped God Within thy gates in days of other years, Shalt thou be laid in ruin — nothingness, I never pass thee but with solemn heart. And deepest reverence. Surely thou hast been The gate from sin's destructive ways to heaven; 62 GREER'S POEMS. The door from death to everlasting life. Although destruction hath defaced thee much, I love thee still ; I love to sing of thee ; But thou mayest yet survive my song, and stand. When he who sings thee now shall sleep in death ! £0^ BeatO of Mrs. (Carofme Q. Qamkins, A sister has bidden farewell To friends and to relatives here. And has gone, with her Saviour to dwell, In a holier and happier sphere; She died in the triumphs of faith, With every transgression forgiven, And while she was gasping in death, She cried, '^I am going to heaven. "I long to depart from my pain, My spirit's bright pinions to spread, And go with my Jesus to reign. Where my babe from my bosom has fled; I soon shall rejoin it above. And clasp it again to my heart, In purer and holier love, No more from each other to part. " My loving companion, good bye ! I leave you a season to mourn ; aREER'S POEMS. 63 In sadness and sorrow to sigh, That I thus from thj bosom am torn. Alone, 'neath the valley's damp clod Mj body in slumber shall dwell ; But I'll meet you again with my God, So, dearest companion, farewell!" She lived in the fear of the Lord, And she died with a soul Ml of love ; And now she has got her reward. In the mansions of glory above. Great God! what a comfort is this, To know that our friends are at rest. Where the streams of enjoyment and bliss Eternally flow through the breast. Around her she summoned her friends, And entreated them all to prepare To meet her where joy never ends, Beyond this dark region of care ; Where sorrow and grief never roll Their horrible curtains abroad, To veil from the rapturous soul, The beauties and glories of God. Thou art dead, dearest sister, and gone To shout hallelujah on high. With the throng that surrounds the "white throne," 64 GREER'S POEMS. Far over jon blue, starry sky I There may we all meet thee at last, Wheii our day of probation is o'er,. And feast on the heavenly repast That is spread for the saints evermore. No murmur shall break thy repose In the " valley of death," lone and stilT^ Till the trumpet of Gabriel blows The slumbering nations to thrill ; Then thou wilt arise from the tomb, And with thee we'll all soar above,. Where our spirits forever shall bloom. In the kingdom of glory and love! r^ -ig V Methinks I hear The "breathing" of thy harp's bright strmg. Its gentle music softly fling Upon my ear; And as I list and hear it sing. My heart within me seems to spring, And hang upon its echoing. So sweet and clear. The "Muse's wand" ^ Hath touched thy "lyre" to minstrelsy^^ ^ GREER'S POEMS. 65 "Whose thrilling notes" sound charmingly Through all the land ; Thousands have heard them rolling free, As pure, seraphic harmony. Concerting most angelicly At thy command. Though dull the soul, It must rejoice to hear the lay, As from ihe skies it found its way, At thy control : Then persevere, nor let dismay Its ebon sceptre o'er thee sway; But tune thy harp — its numbers may For ages roll! ' -' '^ I "drink" the strain That^omes so deep, so soft and light In strearqs from out a mind so bright, iWhere knowledge reigns, — Where loie is treasured up aright, That sMp^tition's meager spright Cann^lestroy, nor folly's blight, Can ever stain. I love the song, fe tones with deep aifection glow, «*,^ And fill with rapture as they flow, The listening throng: F2 66 6FREER'S POESrS". Then strike thy lyre, and let it throWy Its lovely accents high and low, — Till laurels twine around thy brow, The sound prolong. Fame's top may be Thy seat; and ravished millions gaze. With looks of pleasure and amaze, High up to thee, Whose crown with glorious light shall blaze ;; While future ages speak thy praise, And nations dwell upon thy lays^ Exultingly. Thy name may shine Upon the roll that floats the sky^ Where evergreens around it fly, And laurels twine: Press on — the fount can never dry From whence such strains are swelled on high Immortal fame, I wonder why, May not be thine? Sweet Flora has arrived from southern lands, And smiled Boreas to the north again; She brings bright wreaths of flowers in her handSy To robe the trees and decorate the plain. GREER'S POEMS, Z^e (COristittu's Jlequest. Oh ! let me go From all below, To range the fields of Paradise, Where endless joy Without alloy, Shall be my lot above the skies ; Where myriad angels shout and sing Eternal praises to their King, And drink of love's reviving spring That never dries. I long to be From sorrow free, And bid this sinful world farewell^ Where thunders howl, And demons prowl. To drag the soul to ruin's cell, To scorch amid sulphuric fire, And roll in God's eternal ire, And live with sin's polluted sire. In flames of hell. Oh, let my bark Upon the dark Tempestuous waves of Time's vast deepj Be calmly stayed In charnel bed, 67 68 GREER'S POEMS. That I may up to heaven leap. Blow on ye winds — around me play A little while — and then away, On golden pinions let me stray, And glory reap. 0, love divine Around me shine. And be my lamp by which to steer, That I may moor On Canaan's shore. And weep no more a bitter tear. Oh ! Saviour 'lay the rolling waves, And calm the storm that round me raves, And if my vessel wreck to staves. Oh ! be thou near ! And be my shield On battle-field. And sword, that I may Satan fight ; And nerve my heart To stand his dart. And brave the fury of his might: I hear the clanking of the chain. With which his majesty would fain Pinion me down in endless pain And beamless night. I humbly bow And pray thee now, GREER'S POEMS 69 That all my sins may be forgiven ; Oh ! send a shower Of gracious power, And from me let all fear be driven ; That, when my body falls beneath The hfe-destroying arm of death, I, with my last departing breath, May rise to heaven I