AN EVENING MEDITATION.
BY MISS CARTER.
While night in solemn shade invests the pole,
And calm reflection sooths the pensive soul;
While reason, undisturb’d assorts her sway,
And life’s deceitful colours fade away;
To thee, All-conscious Presence! I devote,
This peaceful interval of sober thought:
Here all my better faculties confine,
And be this hour of sacred silence thine.
If, by the day’s illusive scenes misled,
My erring soul from virtue’s path has stray’d;
Snar’d by example, or by passion warm’d,
Some false delight my giddy sense has charm’d;
My calmer thoughts the wretched choice reprove,
And my best hopes are centred in thy love.
Depriv’d of this, can life one joy afford?
Its utmost boast a vain unmeaning word.
But ah! how oft my lawless passions rove,
And break these awful precepts I approve!
Pursue the fatal impulse I abhor,
And violate the virtue I adore!
Oft, when thy better Spirit’s guardian care
Warn’d my fond soul to shun the tempting snare,
My stubborn will his gentle aid repress’d,
And check’d the rising goodness in my breast:
Mad with vain hopes, or urg’d by false desires,
Still’d his soft voice, and quench’d his sacred fires.
With grief opprest, and prostrate in the dust,
Should’st thou condemn, I own thy sentence just.
But, oh, thy softer titles let me claim,
And plead my cause by Mercy’s gentle name.
Mercy! that wipes the penitential tear,
And dissipates the horrors of despair;
From righteous justice deals the vengeful hour,
Softens the dreadful attribute of pow’r,
Disarms the wrath of an offended God,
And seals my pardon in a Saviour’s blood!
All-powerful grace, exert thy gentle sway,
And teach my rebel passions to obey;
Lest lurking Folly, with insidious art,
Regain my volatile inconstant heart!
Shall every high resolve Devotion frames
Be only lifeless sounds and specious names?
O, rather, while thy hopes and fears controul,
In this still hour, each motion of my soul,
Secure its safety by a sudden doom,
And be the soft retreat of sleep my tomb!
Calm let me slumber in that dark repose,
Till the last morn its orient beam disclose:
Then, when the great archangel’s potent sound
Shall echo thro’ creation’s ample round,
Wak’d from the sleep of death, with joy survey
The op’ning splendors of eternal day!
Original: “Thoughts on Midnight” (1739) by Elizabeth Carter 1717-1806.
Possible source: “A Night Piece” by “Miss Carter”, #97 in Elegant Extracts, or, useful and entertaining pieces of poetry, selected for the Improvement of Young Persons, 1796 and earlier, ed. Vicesimus Knox.