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Your present element. Wish for an eye
To pierce each intervening cloud, and see
"The prize of your high calling" shining forthr
So like the sun in glory, that each star,
Gendered from earthly vapours, may be lost
In its surpassing lustre; for an ear

So quick to heavenly promptings, so attent
On those good counsels graciously vouchsaf'd
To all who ask believing, that their sound
May sink into your heart, and fortify
That citadel of virtue 'gainst th' assaults
Of clamour loud, or whispered blandishment,
The greater peril. Wish, what may be given,
To walk on earth, and yet to "walk with GOD."


AND now, at length, the fated term of years
The world's desire have brought, and lo! the GOD

The heav'nly Babe the virgin mother bears,
And her fond looks confess the parent's cares
The pleasing burden on her breasts she lays,
Hangs o'er His charms, and with a smile surveys:
The Infant smiles, to her fond bosom prest,
And wantons, sportive, on the mother's breast.
A radiant glory speaks Him all divine,

And in the Child the beams of Godhead shine.

But now, alas! far other views disclose.
The blackest comprehensive scene of woes,

See where man's voluntary Sacrifice
Bows His meek head, and GOD eternal dies!
Fixt to the cross, His healing arms are bound,
While copious mercy streams from ev'ry wound.
Mark, the blood-drops that life exhausting roll,
And the strong pang that rends the parting soul!
As all death's tortures, with severe delay,

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Exult and riot in the noblest prey:


And canst thou, stupid man, those sorrows see,
Nor share the anguish which He bears for thee?
Thy sin, for which His sacred flesh is torn,
Points ev'ry nail, and sharpens ev'ry thorn;
Canst thou?-while Nature smarts in ev'ry wound
And each pang cleaves the sympathetic ground!
Lo! the black sun, his chariot backward driv'n,
Blots out the day, and perishes from heav'n;
Earth, trembling from her entrails, bears a part,
And the rent rock upbraids man's stubborn heart.

The yawning grave reveals his gloomy reign, And the cold clay-clad dead start into life again.

And thou, O tomb, once more shalt wide display
Thy satiate jaws, and give up all thy prey.
Thou, groaning earth, shalt heave, absorpt in flame,
As the last pangs convulse thy lab'ring frame;
When the same GOD unshrouded thou shalt see,
Wrapt in full blaze of pow'r and majesty,
Ride on the clouds; whilst, as His chariot flies,
The bright effusion streams thro' all the skies.
Then shall the proud dissolving mountains glow,
And yielding rocks in fiery rivers flow:
The molten deluge round the globe shall roar,
And all man's arts and labour be no more.

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Written on a blank leaf of Cowper's Poems, presented to a Lady on her marriage.

Rev. Archdeacon J. Jebb.

LADY, were Cowper's spirit here,
That sainted spirit sure would breathe
A fervent wish, a vow sincere,

And twine them with thy bridal wreath.

He would not of thy goodness tell,

For purest virtue courts the shade;
He would not on thy features dwell,
For beauty's short-lived flower must fade.

No, lady!-Cease thy modest fears;

More pleased his artless Muse would feel
To consecrate the filial tears,

Which from thy trembling eye-lids steal:

To cherish, on this joyful day,
The glist'ning tribute of thy heart,
For years of mild paternal sway,

For cares that made thee-what thou art.

Then would he pray that white-robed truth,
And purest peace and joy serene,
(Blest guardians of thy vernal youth)

May shield thee thro' life's various scene.

But Cowper lives in realms of light,
Where kindred seraphs ceaseless sing;
Far other hands this wreath unite!
Far other hands this off'ring bring!

Yet, lady, wilt thou kindly deign,

('Tis all th' unpractis'd Muse can give) Accept this rudely-warbled strain,

And let it, bound with Cowper's, live.

These volumes, too, I fondly ween,

May, for their author's sake, be priz'd, When thine own hearth shall match the scene By Weston's bard immortaliz'd.

For, sure, thou lov'st domestic joys,
And hours of intimate delight:
And days retir'd from vulgar noise,

And converse bland, that cheats the night.

Such joys be thine, be his! and still
In heart united, as in hands,
Blessing and blest, may each fulfil

The glorious task your place demands.

Lights of the world, may each dispense
New lustre through your ample sphere;
late be summon'd hence


To shine thro' Heaven's eternal year.


Written when going abroad for recovery of health.

J. Bowdler, Jun.

TRANQUIL and blest my years have flow'd,
By no rude fortune tried;

For life was young, and Hope bestow'd
What wiser Heaven denied.

Then shall I shrink or murmur now,
If pain and sickness chill my brow,
And praise the gracious GOD no more,
Who gave me health and joy before?

Though gloomy Winter in his trained
Lead Darkness, Want, and Fear,
Wilt thou Almighty Love arraign,
And mourn the ruin'd year?
See, see, the vernal fountains flow,
And Summer bends his golden bow,
'Till Autumn's mother lap be crown'd,
And Mirth and Plenty dance around,

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Then let the low ring storm increase,
Around the darkness roll,"

Some wand'ring gleam of joy and peace
Shall reach my fainting soul:
'Mid the deep shade, the roaring wind
Shall speak of brighter heavens behind,
And bid me through the veil survey
The chambers of eternal day.

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