It here can little signify
If the street high we cross, or low;
Each lofty thought doth rise, be sure,
The soul to lure to deepest woe.
But by the wall that’s ne’er re-pass’d,
To gripe thee fast when Death prepares,
Heed, heed thy steps, for thou mayst mourn
The slightest turn for endless years.
When opes the door, and swiftly hence
To its residence eternal flies
The soul, it matters much, which side
Of the gulf wide its journey lies.
Deep penitence, amended life,
A bosom rife of zeal and faith,
Can help to man alone impart,
Against the smart and sting of Death.
These things to thee seem worthless now,
But not so low will they appear
When thou art come, O thoughtless friend!
Just to the end of thy career.
Thou’lt deem, when thou hast done with earth,
These things of worth unspeakable,
Beside the gulf so black and drear,
The gulf of Fear, ’twixt Heaven and Hell.
A Vision of Hell.
One fair morning of genial April, when the earth was green and pregnant, and Britain, like a paradise, was wearing splendid liveries, tokens of the smile of the summer sun, I was walking upon the bank of the Severn, in the midst of the sweet notes of the little songsters of the wood, who appeared to be striving to break through all the measures of music, whilst pouring forth praise to the Creator. I too occasionally raised my voice, and warbled with the feathered choir, though in a manner somewhat more restrained than that in which they sang; and occasionally read a portion of the book of the Practice of Godliness. Nevertheless, my former visions would not depart from my remembrance, but continually troubled me by coming across all other thoughts. And they persisted in doing so, until, by arguing the matter minutely with myself, I reflected that there is no vision but what comes from above, to warn one to be upon one’s guard, and that consequently it was my duty to write mine
down, that they might serve as a warning to others also. I therefore returned to my home, and whilst overwhelmed with melancholy, I was endeavouring to collect some of my frightful reminiscences, I happened to give a yawn over my paper, and this gave master Sleep an opportunity to glide upon the top of me. Scarcely had Sleep closed my senses, when, behold! a glorious apparition came towards me, in the shape of a young man, tall and exceedingly beautiful; his garments were seven times more white than snow, his countenance was so lustrous that it rendered the very sun obscure, and his curling locks of gold parted in two lovely wreaths upon his head, in the form of a crown. “Come with me, mortal man,” said he on coming up. “Who art thou, my lord?” said I. “I am,” he replied, “the angel of the countries of the North, the guardian of Britain and its queen. I am one of the princes who are stationed beneath the throne of the Lamb, who receive commands for the protection of the gospel, against all its enemies in Hell and in Rome, in France and Constantinople, in Africa and in India, and wheresoever else they are devising artifices for its destruction. I am the angel who conducted thee below to castle Belial, and who showed thee the vanity and madness of the whole world, the city of Destruction, and the excellence of the city of Emmanuel, and I am come once more by his command, to show thee other things, because thou art seeking to turn to account what thou hast seen already.” “How, my lord,” said I, “will your illustrious majesty, which superintends kings and kingdoms, condescend to associate with such a poor worm as myself?” “O,” said he, “we respect more the virtue of a beggar than the grandeur of a sovereign. What if I be greater than the kings of the earth, and higher than many of the countless
potentates of heaven? As my wonderful master deigned to humble himself so inexpressibly as to wear one of your bodies, and to live among you, and to die for your salvation, how should I presume to be dissatisfied with my duty in serving you, and the vilest of the human race, since ye are so high in favour with my master? Come out, spirit, and free thyself from thy clay,” said he, with his eyes directed upwards. And with that word, I could feel myself becoming extricated from every part of my body. No sooner was I free, than he snatched me up to the firmament of heaven, through the region of lightning and thunder, and all the glowing armories of the sky, innumerable degrees higher than I had been with him before, whence I could scarcely descry the earth, which looked no wider than a croft. After permitting me to rest a short space, he again lifted me up a million of miles, until I could see the sun far below us; we rushed through the milky way and past the Pleiades, and many other exceedingly large stars, till we caught a distant view of other worlds. At length, by dint of journeying, we reached the confines of the awful eternity, and were in sight of the two palaces of the mighty king Death, which stand one on the right hand and the other on the left, and are at a great distance from each other, as there is an immense void between them. I enquired whether we should go to see the right hand palace, because it did not appear to me to resemble the other which I had seen before. “You will probably see,” he replied, “sometime, still more of the difference which is between the one palace and the other; but at present it is necessary for us to sail another course.” Whereupon we turned away from the little world, and having arrived over the intervening gap, we let ourselves down to the country of Eternity, between the two