ISAAC WATTS. Born, 1674; Died, 1748. LAUNCHING INTO ETERNITY. Ir was a brave attempt! adventurous he Who in the first ship broke the unknown sea; And leaving his dear native shores behind, Trusted his life to the licentious wind. I see the surging brine; the tempest raves; He on a pine-plank rides across the waves, Exulting on the heads of thousand gaping graves: He steers the winged boat, and shifts the sails, Conquers the flood, and manages the gales. 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, The seas for ever calm, the skies for ever bright. EDWARD YOUNG. Born, 1681; Died, 1765. FROM "THE COMPLAINT." ◇ THOU great Arbiter of life and death! Nature's immortal, immaterial Sun! Whose all-prolific beam late call'd me forth From darkness, teeming darkness, where I lay The worm's inferior, and, in rank, beneath The dust I tread on, high to bear my brow, To drink the spirit of the golden day, And triumph in existence; and couldst know No motive, but my bliss; and hast ordain'd A rise in blessing! with the Patriarch's joy, Thy call I follow to the land unknown; I trust in Thee, and know in whom I trust; Or life, or death, is equal; neither weighs : All weight in this—O, let me live to Thee! * * * * Blest be that hand Divine, which gently laid, My heart at rest, beneath this humble shed. The world's a stately bark, on dangerous seas, With pleasure seen, but boarded at our peril. Here, on a single plank, thrown safe ashore, I hear the tumult of the distant throng, As that of seas remote, or dying storms; And meditate on scenes more silent still, Pursue my theme, and fight the fear of Death. Here, like a shepherd gazing from his hut, Touching his reed, or leaning on his staff, Eager Ambition's fiery chase I see ; Burst Law's enclosure, leap the mounds of Right, And on humanity much happiness; A soul in commerce with her God is heaven; A Deity adored, is joy advanced; A Deity beloved, is joy matured. Each branch of piety delight inspires; Faith builds a bridge from this world to the next, O'er Death's dark gulf, and all its horror hides; Praise, the sweet exhalation of our joy, That joy exalts, and makes it sweeter still Prayer ardent opens heaven, lets down a stream Of glory on the consecrated hour Of man, in audience with the Deity. First on thy friend deliberate with thyself; FROM "THE LOVE OF FAME; A SATIRE.” LET high-birth triumph! What can be more great? To virtue's humblest son let none prefer ALEXANDER POPE. Born, 1688; Died, 1744. FROM "THE MESSIAH." RISE, crown'd with light, imperial Salem, rise For thee Idume's spicy forests blow, And seeds of gold on Ophir's mountains glow. SAMUEL WESLEY, JUN. EPITAPH ON AN INFANT. BENEATH, a sleeping infant lies; To earth whose ashes lent More glorious shall hereafter rise, Though not more innocent. When the archangel's trump shall blow, And souls and bodies join, What crowds shall wish their lives below Had been as short as thine! |