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That fill the skies nightly with silent pomp, Sweet conference. Inquires what strains were
they With which heaven rang, when every star in haste To gratulate the new-created earth, Sent forth a voice, and all the sons of God Shouted for joy. “Tell me, ye shining hosts That navigate a sea that knows no storms, Beneath a vault unsullied with a cloud, If from your elevation, whence ye view Distinctly scenes invisible to man, And systems of whose birth no tidings yet Have reached this nether world, ye spy a race Favoured as ours, transgressors from the womb, And hasting to a grave, yet doomed to rise, And to possess a brighter heaven than yours? As one who, long detained on foreign shores, Pants to return, and when he sees afar His country's weather-bleached and battered
rocks From the green wave emerging, darts an eye Radiant with joy towards the happy land; So I, with animated hopes behold, And many an aching wish, your beamy fires, That show like beacons in the blue abyss, Ordained to guide th' embodied spirit home From toilsome life to never-ending rest. Love kindles as I gaze. I feel desires That give assurance of their own success, And that, infused from heaven, must thither tend.”
And the New Creature Walks in Light. WHI
HEN man to god-like being sprung,
How sweet the glorious gift he found!
See Eden's beauty smiles around:
Is with unlaboured plenty crowned;
And dress the late spontaneous ground:
And being's perfect bliss is given-
While angel harps rejoice in heaven-
Is with mysterious plenty crowned;
And dress with tears the wayward ground:
Whose bright beginnings ne'er decay ?
Still clouds o'ercast the new-born day ?
No: see the last creation burst-
No bitter tears its harvest leaven-
Unlaboured plenty lasts in heaven:
How pale the cheek where warmth and
beauty glow'd ! Where now those charms that held th' admiring
sight? The bloom as heav'n's unclouded azure bright; Th’ attractive smile, by nature taught to please ; The mien that temper'd dignity with ease ? Ah where! yon solemn silent vault survey, Where writhes the reptile o'er its kindred clay; There read on pride’s stain'd cheek the gen’ral
doom; Then pause :while memory bleeds upon the
tomb. Perhaps while we th' untimely stroke bemoan, She bends adoring at th’ Eternal's throne; While from our eye-balls burst the streams of
Her happier soul can wonder why they flow;
A Visit to Bethlehem in the Spirit.
HE scene around me disappears,
And, borne to ancient regions,
I see angelic legions
I hear celestial voices.
To every age and nation;
To man He sent salvation :
Through David's city I am led;
Here all around are sleeping;
Where lonely watch is keeping:
Messiah's infant temple ?
It is; it is ;-and I adore
This Stranger meek and lowly,
The throne of God thrice holy;
Blest is his Life, who to himself is
True. PEACE to the True Man’s ashes ! Weep for
those Whose days in old delusions have grown dim; Such lives as his are triumphs, and their close
An immortality: weep not for him.
Lie bright among the rocks they can not warm, So lie the flowery lays that Genius brings,
In the cold turf that wraps his honoured form.