Yet we have cause to bless the day,
If weary of a life mispent,
By this thy exit, any may
Be led to ponder, and repent.
Thou transient teller of the truth,
May he who bids, and thunders roll,
Forgive the follies of my youth,
And stamp thy lesson on My soul!
THE COUNTRY LOVE FEAST.
(Held in an old Barn, Farndale, Yorkshire.)
Sing, O my muse, in praise of Zion sing,
In praise of those who her glad tidings bring,
In praise to Him who left the courts above,
To manifest to us his Father’s love!
Celestial powers, my heart and voice inspire,
If such a worm as I can feel your heav’nly fire;
To such a theme, to such a noble song,
Sublimer strains than I can reach belong.
Glory to God, whose mercy and free grace,
Are not confin’d to either time or place,
To bless, and save the fallen sons of men,
To cleanse believers, and to pardon sin.
O what an humble, yet exalted place,
Where Christians meet, the great I AM to praise.
A Barn!—A Temple! what a place is this!
Emblem of heav’n, and type of future bliss!
An earthen floor serves us on which to tread,
The roof is cover’d with the spider’s web:—
To such is man’s best righteousness compar’d,
By which full many a lofty head’s ensnar’d.
No crimson pews distinguish rich from poor,
No brass inscriptions glitter on the floor,
No marble monuments adorn the wall,
No polish’d altars where men prostrate fall,
No tapestry doth hang the pulpit round,
No costly vaults are in this temple found,
No pealing organ’s note delights the ear,
But what is better far,—our God is here!
Wherever two or three sincerely meet,
Who have towards Zion’s city turn’d their feet,
’Tis there our God himself vouchsafes to be,
To bind the strong, and set the prisoner free.
The world’s applause we cheerfully disdain,
And shelter here from company profane.
For as we differ, ’tis by Jesus’ grace,
And ’tis His presence dignifies the place.
Before us here the bread of life is spread,
Behind are stalls where now the ox is fed.
Like that in Bethlehem where Jesus lay,
This stable now beholds a glorious day!
Here Pilgrims meet their travels to relate,
And when, and where they enter’d mercy’s gate.
They tell us how their eyes with tears did fill,
When unbelief was wilful of its will.
They tell us how their sins did them oppress,
And fill’d their inmost souls with deep distress;
And how the Lord their burden did remove,
Pardon’d their sins, and fill’d their hearts with love.
They all rejoice to see each other’s face,
To hear each prospers in the work of grace.
With one consent their cheerful hearts aspire,
And ecstasies of joy their bosoms fire.
Such times as these we think too soon are gone,
Our happy souls cemented into one!
We pray, and part, each to his distant home,
And still we cry, “Lord, let thy kingdom come!”
Both far and near his Kingdom doth extend,
Temples are rising both by sea and land.
The Bethel flag, high waving in the air,
Calls seamen to engage in praise and prayer,
Whole streets, reform’d, the great assembly join,
Speak with new tongues, and sing in songs divine.
Poor trembling sinners wipe their watery eyes,
And lamentations pierce the bowing skies!
Blasphemers fall beneath the power of God,
And statesmen flock to hear his Holy Word;
While some of them a portion find to spare,
Waste Zion’s walls and bulwarks to repair.
See golden prospects round us rise,
See the dejected raise their downcast eyes,
The liberated captives shout applause
To Zion’s King, and his victorious cause!
ODE TO BRITAIN.
Shine, Britain! Shine! Thy virtues we commend;
Thy light to distant nations shall extend.
A city on a hill cannot be hid,
Nor can’st thou be, while Heav’n lifts up thy head.
Shine, Britain! Shine! O send the bible forth,
To each benighted corner of the earth;
Till all with joy its richest blessings taste,
And share with us the glorious Gospel Feast.
O happy people! Highly favour’d Isle!
Which shares the sunshine of Jehovah’s smile.
The scenes thy sons and daughters have enjoy’d,
Kings have desir’d to see, but were denied.
We hope the sound of discord soon will cease,
And angels sing a universal peace!
When barren lands with plenty shall abound,
And Christ be worshipp’d the wide world around.
At thoughts of this the lonely desert sings,
To see his altars throng’d with prostrate Kings;
To see great men of honour and renown,
Cast off the coronet to wear a crown!
Hasten, O Lord, the long—long wish’d for day,
When favour’d with thy truth’s enlightening ray,
Poor Hottentots shall raise the song divine,
And savage Turks, the heav’nly concert join.
When Blacks and Whites, a vast redeemed throng,
Shall all unite to swell the mighty song;
Worship one God, and hail Him Lord and King,
Through the whole world the Saviour’s praises sing.
A VOICE FROM THE DEAD!
Written on being uncivilly treated, when erecting some Tombstones in —— Church Yard, where the Author was denied the use of any part of the Church, Porch, or Stable; was forbidden to Letter the Stone in the Church Yard, though it was more than a mile from the Church to the nearest convenient place for such a work; and was also denied the Keys of the Gate:—yet at that very time, the parson’s horse and cow, were feeding on the grass, tearing up the graves, and breaking down the stones, while none dared to complain! On seeing the horse’s leg sink into a grave up to the lisk, the following thoughts suggested themselves.