While there he drinks the bitter cup,
The dust shall lick his marrow up;
His tongue within the grave shall rot,
While name and memory are forgot.
On that dread morn when all shall rise,
The righteous whom he did despise,
Shall over him dominion have,
And all the terrors of the grave.
CONFIRMATION.
The stars recede, the morn appears,
So long anticipated!
The air which now the spirit cheers,
With shouts is agitated!
The rustics full of mirth and glee,
Are big with expectation,
Of what they are to hear and see,
When they’re at Confirmation!
The road is fill’d from side to side,
With bonny lads and lasses;
With country bloom, and village pride,
Gigs, horses, mules, and asses!
With whip and spur, they dash along,
As though to fair or races;
With artificial feathers hung,
And veils before their faces!
But few know what they’re going to do,
Or they are strangely lied on;
They’re careless of the solemn vow,
As is the steed they ride on!
They go, because their neighbours go,
Without consideration;
And think all pass for Christians, who
Are pass’d at Confirmation!