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erlasting Pastures, the man Nature gring
Tell me where Athens rais'd her towers ? - Where
Thebes Open'd her hundred portals ?-Tell me where Stood sea-girt Albion ? —Where imperial-Rome, Propp'd by seven hills, sat like a sceptred queen, And aw'd the tributary world to peace ?-Show me the rampart, which o'er many a hill, Througb many a valley, stretch'd its wide extent, Rais'd by that mighty monarch to repel The roving Tartar, when with insult rude 'Gainst Pekin's towers he bent the unerring bow. But what is mimic art ? Even Nature's works, Seas, meadows, pastures, the meand'ring streams, And everlasting hills, shall be no more. No more shall Teneriffe, cloud-piercing height! O'erhang the Atlantic surge ; nor that fam'd cliff, Through which the Persian steer'd with many a sail, Throw to the Lemnian isle its evening shade O'er half the wide Ægæan.--Where are now The Alps that confin'd with unnumber'd realms, And from the Black Sea to the Ocean stream Stretch'd their extended arms ? Where's Ararat, That hill on which the faithful patriarch's ark, Which seven long months had voyag'd o'er its top, First rested, when the earth with all her sons, As now by streaming cataracts of fire, Was whelm'd by mighty waters ?-All at once Are vanish'd and dissolv'd; no trace remains, No mark of vain distinction: Heaven itself, That azure vault, with all those radiant orbs, Sinks in the universal ruin lost. No more shall planets round their central sun Move in harmonious dance; no more the moon Hang out her silver lamp; and those fix'd stars, Spangling the golden canopy of night, Which oft the Tuscan with his optic glass
Callid from their wondrous height, to read their names
Such is that awful, that tremendous day,
- "Power Supreme ! O everlasting King ! to thee I kneel, To thee I lift my voice. With fervent heat Melt, all ye elements ! and thou, high heaven, Shrink like a shriveli'd scroll! But think, O Lord, Think on the best, the noblest of thy works; Think on thine own bright image! "Think on Him Who died to save us from thy righteous wrath ; And ’midst the wreck of worlds remember man !”
THE OMNIPRESENCE OF God.
PSALM CXxxix. 1-12. O LORD! thou searchest all things; thou hast known Alike my rising up, and sitting down ; Thou compassest my path throughout the day, My couch at night, my every word and way; Behind, before, Thy presence I discern, Thy hand is on me whereso'er I turn:Knowledge too wonderful for finite man, Too high, too deep for human thought to scan ! O whither from Thy presence shall I flee? Where go, and in Thy Spirit meet not Thee ? If I ascend to heaven,-behold Thy throne ! If I descend to hell, -Thou there art known; If on the wings of morn I take my flight On Ocean's verge, Thy hand asserts its might; If I say, “ Darkness shall my refuge be," Night's deepest gloom is rendered bright by Thee :Distance avails not, darkness hath no pall, For Thou art every where, and all in all !
A SEATONIAN PRIZE POEM, ON THE DAY OF
on man's rer
ben un peopled omaish d seraphs)
To that bright region, where enthron'd he sits First-born of heaven, to judge assembled worlds, Cloth'd in celestial radiance! Can the Muse, Her feeble wing all damp with earthly dew, Soar to that bright empyreal, where around .. Myriads of angels, God's perpetual choir, Hymn hallelujahs, and in concert loud Chant songs of triumph to their Maker's praise ? On that great day the solemn trump shall sound, (That trump which once in heaven, on man's revolt, Convok'd the astonish'd seraphs) at whose voice The' unpeopled graves shall pour forth all their dead. Then shall the assembled nations of the earth From ev'ry quarter at the judgment-seat Unite; Egyptians, Babylonians, Greeks, Parthians; and they who dwell on Tyber's banks, Names fam’d of old: or who of later age, Chinese and Russian, Mexican and Turk, Tenant the wide terrene; and they who pitch Their tents on Niger's banks ; or, where the sun Pours on Golconda's spires his early light, Drink Ganges' sacred stream. At once shall rise, Whom distant ages to each other's sight Had long denied : before the throne shall kneel Some great Progenitor, while at his side Stand his descendants through a thousand lines. Whate'er their nation, and whate'er their rank, Heroes and patriarchs, slaves and sceptred kings, With equal eye the God of All shall see, And judge with equal love. Where now the works Of art, the toil of ages ?-Where are now The' imperial cities, sepulchres and domes, Trophies and pillars Where is Egypt's boast, Those lofty pyramids, which high in air Rear'd their aspiring heads, to distant times Of Memphian pride a lasting monument ?
To' enforce the wrong, for such a worthy cause,
Then what is man? And what man seeing this,