Arise, oh King! and be the proud to righteous ruin driven! "Forgive!" an awful answer came, "as thou would'st be forgiven !" Seven times, Oh Lord! I pardoned them, seven times they sinned again; They practice still to work me wo, they triumph in my pain; But let them dread my vengeance now, to just resentment driven ! "Forgive!" the voice of thunder spake, "or never be forgiven!" TWENTY-THIRD SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY. FROM foes that would the land devour; From guilty pride, and lust of power; From wild sedition's lawless hour; From yoke of slavery; From blinded zeal by faction led; From giddy change by fancy bred; From poisonous error's serpent head, Good Lord, preserve us free! Defend, oh God! with guardian hand, The spirit's help of thee we crave, TWENTY-FOURTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY. To conquer and to save, the Son of God The grave unbolted half his grisly door, FOR ST. JAMES'S DAY. I love thee, Lord! I love thee still! Though Sinai's curse, in thunder dread, Oh, by the pangs thyself hast borne, MICHAELMAS DAY. Oн, captain of God's host, whose dreadful might Led forth to war the armed Seraphim, And from the starry height, Subdued in burning fight, Cast down that ancient dragon, dark and grim!, Thine angels, Christ! we laud in solemn lays, Our elder brethren of the crystal sky, Who, 'mid thy glory's blaze, And gird thy throne in faithful ministry! We celebrate their love, whose viewless wing Hath left for us so oft their mansion high, The mercies of their king, To mortal saints to bring, Or guard the couch of slumbering infancy. But thee, the first and last, we glorify, Who, when thy world was sunk in death and sin, Not with thine hierarchy, The armies of the sky, But didst with thine own arm the battle win, Alone didst pass the dark and dismal shore Alone didst tread the wine-press, and alone, All glorious in thy gore, Didst light and life restore, Therefore, with angels and archangels, we To thy dear love our thankful chorus raise, And tune our songs to thee Who art, and ought to be, And, endless as thy mercies, sound thy praise! IN TIMES OF DISTRESS AND OH God, that madest earth and sky, the darkness and the day, Give ear to this thy family, and help us when we pray! For wide the waves of bitterness around our vessel roar, And heavy grows the pilot's heart to view the rocky shore! The cross our master bore for us, for him we fain would bear, But mortal strength to weakness turns, and courage to despair! Then mercy on our failings, Lord! our sinking faith renew! And when thy sorrows visit us, oh send thy patience too! INTENDED TO BE SUNG ON OCCASION OF HIS PREACHING A SERMON FOR THE CHURCH MISSIONARY SOCIETY, IN FROM Greenland's icy mountains, Their land from error's chain! What though the spicy breezes The gifts of God are strown, The heathen, in his blindness, Bows down to wood and stone! Can we, whose souls are lighted The lamp of life deny? Has learned Messiah's name! Waft, waft, ye winds, his story, It spreads from pole to pole; AN INTROIT TO BE SUNG BETWEEN THE LITANY AND COMMUNION SERVICE. OH most merciful! Oh most bountiful! Hear us, help us when we cry! BEFORE THE SACRAMENT. BREAD of the world, in mercy broken! Wine of the soul in mercy shed! By whom the words of life were spoken, And in whose death our sins are dead! Look on the heart by sorrow broken, Look on the tears by sinners shed, And be thy feast to us the token That by thy grace our souls are fed! AT A FUNERAL. BENEATH Our feet and o'er our head Is equal warning given; Their names are graven on the stone, Death rides on every passing breeze, Our eyes have seen the rosy light Our eyes have seen the steps of age Turn, mortal, turn! thy danger know; Turn, Christian, turn! thy soul apply STANZAS ON THE DEATH OF A FRIEND. THOU art gone to the grave! but we will not-deplore thee, Though sorrows and darkness encompass the tomb: Thy Saviour has passed through its portal before thee, And the lamp of his love is thy guide through the gloom! Thou art gone to the grave! we no longer behold thee, Nor tread the rough paths of the world by thy side; But the wide arms of Mercy are spread to enfold thee, And sinners may die, for the SINLESS has died! Thou art gone to the grave! and, its mansion forsaking, Perchance thy weak spirit in fear lingered long; But the mild rays of paradise beamed on thy waking, And the sound which thou heardst was the seraphim’s song! Thou art gone to the grave! but we will not deplore thee, Whose God was thy ransom, thy guardian and guide; He gave thee, he took thee, and he will restore thee, And death has no sting, for the Saviour has died!* • The following stanzas were written as an addition to the above hymn, by an English clergyman, on hearing of the decease of the author. ON RECOVERY FROM SICKNESS. OH, Saviour of the faithful dead, With whom thy servants dwell, No more we cling to mortal clay, 'Twas hard from those I loved to go, Who knelt around my bed, Whose tears bedewed my burning brow, As fading from my dizzy view, 'Twas dreadful when th' accuser's power And each unworthy part: But, Jesus! in that mortal fray, Thy blessed comfort stole, When soon or late this feeble breath And in the darksome way! When clothed in fleshly weeds again I wait thy dread decree, Judge of the world! bethink thee then That thou hast died for me. Thou art gone to the grave! and whole nations bemoan thee, Thou art gone to the grave! but thy work shall not perish, Translations of Pindar. THE FIRST OLYMPIC ODE. TO HIERO OF SYRACUSE, VICTOR IN THE HORSE RACE. CAN earth, or fire, or liquid air, Over sheep-clad Sicily Who the righteous sceptre beareth, Every flower of virtue's tree Wove in various wreath he weareth. But the bud of poesy Is the fairest flower of all; Which the bards, in social glee, Strew round Hiero's wealthy hall.— The harp on yonder pin suspended, Seize it, boy, for Pisa's sake; And that good steed's, whose thought will wake By Alpheus' brink, with feet of flame, And earned the olive wreath of fame -Well!-these are tales of mystery!— Can honour give to actions ill, But, if we dare the deeds rehearse 'T were meet that in such dangerous verse A plain unvarnished lay!— That, when in heaven & favoured guest, The dark-winged eagle's prey.— And when no earthly tongue could tell Some envious neighbour's spleen, That head was Lydia's lord.- The shadowy rocks' impending weight:- Nor called in vain, through cloud and storm Half-seen, a huge and shadowy form, The god of waters came. He came, whom thus the youth addressed"Oh thou, if that immortal breast Have felt a lover's flame, A lover's prayer in pity hear, Repel the tyrant's brazen spear That guards my lovely dame!-1 And grant a car whose rolling speed May help a lover at his need; Condemned by Pisa's hand to bleed Unless I win the envied meed In Elis' field of fame! For youthful knights thirteen By him have slaughtered been, His daughter vexing with perverse delay.— Such to a coward's eye Were evil augury;— Nor durst a coward's heart the strife essay! The doom of death must fall, Remote from noble strife, And all the sweet applause to valour paid?— Yes! I will dare the course! but, thou, Immortal friend, my prayer allow!"— Thus, not in vain, his grief he told— He tamed the strength of Pisa's king, And, from his bride of beauteous face, Beheld a stock of warriors spring, The altar of protecting Jove.- But what are past or future joys? The passing hour alone. To crown with knightly wreath the king, To praise his ancient line! For ne'er shall wandering minstrel find God, who beholdeth thee and all thy deeds,(4) To kings indulgent, Providence II. TO THERON OF AGRAGAS, VICTOR O SONG! whose voice the harp obeys, |