RESURRECTION AND IMMORTALITY.
'By that new and living way, which he hath prepared for us, through the veil, which is his flesh.'—HEB. x. 20.
BODY.
1 Oft have I seen, when that renewing breath
That binds and loosens death
Inspired a quickening power through the dead
Creatures abed,
Some drowrsy silk-worm creep
From that long sleep,
And in weak, infant hummings chime and knell
About her silent cell,
Until at last, full with the vital ray,
She winged away,
And, proud with life and sense,
Heaven's rich expense,
Esteemed (vain things!) of two whole elements
As mean, and span-extents.
Shall I then think such providence will be
Less friend to me,
Or that he can endure to be unjust
Who keeps his covenant even with our dust?
SOUL
2 Poor querulous handful! was't for this
I taught thee all that is?
Unbowelled nature, showed thee her recruits,
And change of suits,
And how of death we make
A mere mistake;
For no thing can-to nothing fall, but still
Incorporates by skill,
And then returns, and from the womb of things
Such treasure brings,
As pheenix-like renew'th
Both life and youth;
For a preserving spirit doth still pass
Untainted through this mass,
Which doth resolve, produce, and ripen all
That to it fall;
Nor are those births, which we
Thus suffering see,
Destroyed at all; but when time's restless wave
Their substance doth deprave,
And the more noble essence finds his house
Sickly and loose,
He, ever young, doth wing
Unto that spring
And source of spirits, where he takes his lot,
Till time no more shall rot
His passive cottage; which, (though laid aside,)
Like some spruce bride,
Shall one day rise, and, clothed with shining light,
All pure and bright,
Remarry to the soul, for'tis most plain
Thou only fall'st to be refined again.
3 Then I that here saw darkly in a glass
But mists and shadows pass,
And, by their own weak shine, did search the springs
And course of things,
Shall with enlightened rays
Pierce all their ways;
And as thou saw'st, I in a thought could go
To heaven or earth below,
To read some star, or mineral, and in state
There often sate;
So shalt thou then with me,
Both winged and free,
Rove in that mighty and eternal light,
Where no rude shade or night
Shall dare approach us; we shall there no more
Watch stars, or pore
Through melancholy clouds, and say,
'Would it were day!'
One everlasting Sabbath there shall run
Without succession, and without a sun.
'But go thou thy way until the end be: for thou shalt rest, and stand in thy lot at the end of the days.'—DAN. xii. 13.