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"To gentle offices of love
"His feet are never slow;
"He views, through mercy's melting eye,
"Peace from the bosom of his God,
"And when he kneels before the throne,
"To him protection shall be shown,
IMMORTAL! ages past, yet nothing gone!
Beginning still, where computation ends!
'Tis the description of the meanest slave.
Immortal! what can strike the sense so strong, As this the soul? it thunders to the thought;
Reason amazes, gratitude o'erwhelms;
No more we slumber on the brink of fate;
Because 'tis common, is the blessing lost?
Amidst life's pains, abasements, emptiness,
Sets earth at distance, casts her into shades;
Warm on the wing, in glorious absence lost.
Doubt you this truth? why labours your belief? If earth's whole orb by some due-distanc'd eye Was seen at once, her tow'ring Alps would sink And levell'd Atlas leave an even sphere. Thus earth, and all that earthly minds admire, Is swallow'd in eternity's vast round. To that stupendous view when souls awake, o large of late, so mountainous to man, Time's toys subside; and equal all below.
For Easter Sunday.
AGAIN the Lord of life and light
O what a night was that which wrapt
This day be grateful homage paid,
Ten thousand diff'ring lips shall join
Jesus, the friend of human kind,
The pow'rs of darkness leagu'd in vain
Not long the toils of hell could keep
On ought so much divine.
And now his conqu'ring chariot wheels Ascend the lofty skies;
While broke, beneath his pow'rful cross,
Exalted high at God's right hand,
And Lord of all below,
Through him is pard'ning love dispens'd,
And boundless blessings flow.
And still for erring, guilty man
And still his bleeding heart is touch'd
To thee, my Saviour and my King,
And stand prepar'd, like thee to die,
With thee that I may live.
WHILE thee I seek, protecting Power!
With better hopes be fill'd.
Thy love the pow'rs of thought bestow'd;
That mercy I adore!
In each event of life, how clear
Each blessing to my soul more dear,
In ev'ry joy that crowns my days,
My heart shall find delight in praise,
When gladness wings my favour'd hour,
My lifted eye, without a tear,
The low'ring storm shall see ;
My steadfast heart shall know no fear;
HELEN MARIA WILLIAMS.
WRITTEN AT MIDNIGHT,
IN A THUNDER STORM.
LET coward Guilt, with pallid Fear,
Protected by that hand, whose law
In the thick cloud's tremendous gloom,
Through nature's ever-varying scene,
With like beneficent effect
O'er flaming ether glows,