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BEHOLD! th' Ambassador Divine,
To publish to mankind the law
On him, in rich effusion pour'd,
No trumpet-sound, at his approach,
By his kind hand the shaken reed
The onward progress of his zeal
He who spread forth the arch of heav'n,
Who laid the basis of the earth,
And form'd the human soul,
Thus saith the soul, Thee have I sent,
A Prophet from the sky,
The message from on high.
Before thy face the shades of death
The people who in darkness dwell
The gates of brass shall sunder burst,
And lo! presaging thy approach,
I am Jehovah: I am One:
My name shall now be known;
Lo, former scenes, predicted once,
Now sing a new song to the Lord!
And fill the isles around.
O city of the Lord! begin
And let the scattered villages
Let Kedar's wilderness afar
O from the streams of distant land
And joyful from the mountains' tops
Let all combin'd with one accord
Till in remotest bounds of earth
AT A FUNERAL.
BENEATH Our feet, and o'er our head,
Is equal warning given;
Their names are graven on the stone,
Death rides on every passing breeze,
Our eyes have seen the rosy light
Our eyes have seen the steps of age
Turn mortal, turn! thy danger know;
Turn, Christian, turn! thy soul apply
The bones that underneath thee lie
THOU art gone to the grave, but we will not deplore thee,
Though sorrows and darkness encompass the tomb;
Thy Saviour has passed through its portal before thee
And the lamp of his love is thy guide through the gloom!
Thou art gone to the grave !-we no longer behold thee,
Nor tread the rough paths of the world by thy
But the wide arms of mercy are spread to infold
And sinners may die, for the sinless have died!
Thou art gone to the grave!-and, its mansion forsaking,
Perchance thy weak spirit in fear linger'd long; But the mild rays of Paradise beam'd on thy waking,
And the sound which thou heard'st was the seraphim's song!
Thou art gone to the grave !—but we will not deplore thee,
[guide; Whose God was thy ransom, thy guardian and He gave thee-He took thee-and He will restore
[died! And Death has no sting, for the Saviour has
GoD sits enthron'd in yonder sky,
He sees those awful depths below,
That eye eternity surveys,
As if no cloud was there;
The dead, whose scatter'd atoms lie,
That eye which saw creation rise,
Nor seek to slumber in the skies,
Omniscience! who can speak of thee!
'Tis like that dread eternity
Or God's almighty mind.