Hark, how he prays; the charming sound Go, you that rest upon the law, But I'll retire beneath the cross; And the keen sword that justice draws, SEEKING A DIVINE CALM IN A REST LESS WORLD. "O Mens, quæ stabili fata regis vice," &c. Casimire, Book IV. Od. 28. ETERNAL Mind, who rul'st the fates Afford a smile to thee? Thou scatterest honours, crowns, and gold; The bubbles and the ore: Here a vain man his sceptre breaks, Earth's but an atom: greedy swords And yet they can't agree: Let greedy swords still fight and slay; To sit and smile with thee. HAPPY FRAILTY. "How meanly dwells the immortal mind "How vile these bodies are! "Why was a clod of earth design'd "To inclose a heavenly star? "Weak cottage, where our souls reside! "This flesh a tottering wall; “With frightful breaches, gaping wide, "The building bends to fall. “All round it storms of trouble blow, "And waves of sorrow roll; "Cold waves and winter's storms beat through, "And pain the tenant-soul. "Alas! how frail our state!" said I, My soul all felt the glory come, Then she remember'd heaven her home, And she a prisoner here. Straight she began to change her key, And joyful in her pains, She sung the frailty of her clay In pleasurable strains. "How weak the prison is where I dwell! "Flesh, but a tottering wall; "The breaches cheerfully foretell "The house must shortly fall. "No more, my friends, shall I complain, "Though all my heart-strings ake; "Welcome disease, and every pain, “That makes the cottage shake. "Now let the tempest blow all round, "Now swell the surges high, "And beat this house of bondage down, "To let the stranger fly. "I have a mansion built above, "By the eternal hand; "And should the earth's old basis move, "My heavenly house must stand. 66 Yes, for 'tis there my Saviour reigns, "(I long to see the God,) 'And his immortal strength sustains "The courts that cost him blood." Hark, from on high my Saviour calls; LAUNCHING INTO ETERNITY. Ir was a brave attempt, adventurous he, I see the surging brine: the tempest raves: Such is the soul that leaves this mortal land, The waves roll gentler, and the tempest dies: She floats on the broad deep with infinite delight, |