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Sigh not, ye winds, as passing o'er
The chambers of the dead you fly; Weep not, ye dews, for these no more
Shall ever weep, shall ever sigh.
Of the 63d chapter of Isaiah to the 6th verse.
A PINDARIQUE ODE.
Strange scene of glory! am I well awake;
Or is't my fancy's wild mistake? It cannot be a drean, bright beams of light Flow from the visions face, and pierce my tender
No common vision this, I see
Who is this mighty Hero, who?
brow? From Bozrah lo he comes, a scarlet die
O'erspreads his cloaths, and does outrie
The blushes of the morning sky. Triumphant and victorious he appears, And honour in his looks and habit wears;
How strong he treads, how stately does he go!
Pompous and solemn is his pace, And full of Majesty, as is his face.
Who is this mighty Hero, whu ?'Tis I who to my promise faithful stand, I who the powers of death, hell, and the grave,
Have foil'd with this all-conquering hand, I who most ready am, and mighty too to save.
Why wear'st thou then this scarlet die ?
Say, mighty Hero, why?
The wine-press I alone have trod,
And with me to assist were none;
The work I undertook to do;
Inrag'd I put forth all my might
My garments with its deepest gore;
The day, the signal day is come
The day when death shall have its doom, And the dark kingdom with its powers shall shake. Fate in her calendar mark'd out this day with red, She folded down the iron leaf, and thus she said, This day, if ought I can divine be true,
Shall for a signal victory Be celebrated to posterity:
Then shall the Prince of light descend, And rescue mortals from th' infernal fiend, Break through his strongest forts, and all his host
subdue. This said, she shut the adamantine volume close, And wish'd she might the crouding years transpose; So much she long to have the scene display, And see the vast event of this inportant da.y.
And now in midst of the revolving years,
This great, this mighty one appears :
The faithful traveller the sun
I look'd and to assist was none,
But durst not venture nigh :
For help, my Father ine forsook
Amaz'd I was to see
How all deserted me,
And with my single arm the conquest wun.
The hymning guards above,
INVITATION OF MERCY.
Come! said Jesus' sacred voice,
Thou, who houseless, sole forlorn,
Ye who, tost on beds of pain,
Ye by fiercer anguish torn,
Here repose your heavy care :
Sinner, come! for here is found
CONTEMPLATION OF THE WORKS OF
Eternal wisdom! thee we praise,
Thee the creation sings;
And heav'n's high palace rings.
How wide thy hand hath spread the sky!
How glorious to behold,
And starr'd with sparkling gold !
There thou hast bid the globes of light
Their endless circles run;
The day obeys the sun.