Alas! the dreadful stupor still remains,
Nor hell can fright, nor heav’nly joys allure;
In vain thy self-convicted soul complains,
Of constant torment, and of thoughts impure!
In vain the heav’nly harpers tune the lyre,
Rejoicing saints perform the three-fold part;
In vain believers flash devotion’s fire,
Or drag the holy harrows o’er thy heart!
That heart enclos’d as in a case of steel,
Laments its loss, and seeks for rest in vain!
Sighs for that impulse which she once did feel,—
Oh! shall she never taste those joys again.
I know the Lord is mighty to redeem,
Of boundless mercy, and unmeasur’d grace,
But sin hath fix’d a mighty gulf between,—
Beyond that gulf a Saviour shows his face.
Sometimes thou may’st the keen conviction spurn,
Through liquor’s magic, or associates gay,
But this thy strongest refuge will o’erturn,
To think of Death, and the great judgement day.
VILLAGE PREACHING.
“Speak unto us smooth things.” (Isaiah xxx. 10.)
Far over Cleveland’s lofty hills,
Water’d by rivulets and rills,
A lovely village doth appear,
And o’er the trees its chimneys rear
A church there is without a steeple,
And several unconverted people;
Though not much pious fruit appear,
The people still desire to hear.