Thrice bless'd the Pastor who, like Paul, The past with comfort can recall; His life and doctrine both review To auditors who feel both true; Fears not his conduct to declare Holy, unblameable, sincere. His preaching catholic; he speaks Impartially to Jews and Greeks. No words of doubtful disputation Allure from his grand end-salvation; Faith and repentance form his theme, Compendium of the Christian scheme! No searching truth he e'er conceal'd, But God's whole counsel still reveal'd.

My trusting soul shall ne'er appal.

If I for God my span employ;

If He my course may crown with joy;
If I may spend my painful race,
To testify redeeming grace;
No dread of death my soul shall move,
Secure in him I serve and love.'

His friends, lamenting, crowd the shore,
They part, they see his face no more:
Their sorrows and his own to cheer,
He consecrates the scene with prayer.

PART THE FOURTH.

THE EPISTLES.

NEXT Come the ROMANS, here we trace
The flagrant manners of their race.
Tho' Nero then Rome's sceptre sway'd,
Yet conscientious Paul obey'd;
Fearless he taught that all should bring
Allegiance to their rightful king.
In this epistle we may find

The depths and heights of his great mind:
Here rhetoric and logic meet
The cause of faith to vindicate.

Paul, when the rich CORINTHIANS came,
Found much to praise and much to blame :
Luxurious, negligent, and proud;
No error was by him allow'd.

As Christian truth should still be told,
The righteous Paul is meekly bold;
And yet such tenderness appears,
His very frowns are mix'd with tears!

One glorious truth he here defends,
That truth on which all truth depends:
Labours one doctrine to maintain,
Which if not true, he preach'd in vain ;
Vain to their faith, which might not trust
The resurrection of the just.
Then mounting above space of time,
He soars with energy sublime;
Exhausts on this grand contemplation
High argument, bold illustration!
Created nature see he brings,
Attested to the truth he sings:
All grain, all flesh, their tribute lend;
The diff'ring stars the truth defend:
If these proclaim God's glory true,
When the material heavens we view,
His glory sun and moon declare,
When on this doctrine brought to bear.

In vain shall death his prey devour, "Twas sown in weakness, rais'd in power! Nor slow the process: Heaven is nigh: Quick, in the twinkling of an eye.

Nor shall your labours vain be found.

The bold GALATIANS Paul reproves,
And much he blames, tho' much he loves;
Condemns the teachers whom he saw
Exchange the Gospel for the law.
To clear his doctrine from suspicion,
He vindicates his heavenly mission.

Th' EPHESIANS stand in glory bright,
On whom Paul shed the Gospel-light,
Where great Diana was ador'd,
They follow'd on to know the Lord:
This matchless letter you will find
A perfect model of its kind.

Where Anthony with Brutus fought,
There Christian Paul a refuge sought.
Yet e'en PHILIPPIANS could be found
The Saviour in his saint to wound:
A prison the reward they gave
The man who came their souls to save.
Did Paul the cruelty resent,
Or in reproach his anger vent?
No;-if the saint exceeds in love,
Invokes more favours from above:
If e'er his full o'erflowing heart
Sought warmer blessings to impart ;
If more for any friends he pray'd,
For showers of mercies on their head;
It was for this distinguish'd place,
The scene of his most foul disgrace!
How does his fervent spirit burn
Their recent kindness to return!
What terms, what arguments employ,
To fill their hearts with holy joy!
What consolation from above;
What comfort from eternal love;
From God's blest Spirit drawing nigh;
Communion sweet, communion high!
Such strong persuasions must controul,
Convince the reason, melt the soul!
He urges motives as a law,
Which some would think deter not draw.
'Take as a gift reserv'd for you,
Power to believe and suffer too!'

The good COLOSSIANS now stand forth,
Excell'd by none in grace and worth,
Behold the saint his touchstone give,
To try with Christ if Christians live.
Oh, let your aspirations rise,
Nor stop at aught beneath the skies.
Your fruitless cares no more bestow
On perishable things below.
From sordid joys indignant fly;
Know, avarice is idolatry,

False worship's not confin'd alone
To images of wood and stone;
Whate'er you grasp with eager hold,
Honours or pleasures, fame or gold;
These are your idols, these you'll find,
Possess your soul, engross your mind.
Heaven will with idols have no part:
That robs your God which steals your heart.

The THESSALONIANS next appear,
The bountiful and the sincere.
Here precept pure and doctrine sound,
In sweet accordance may be found.
Mark the triumphant Christian's voice,
'Rejoice, again I say, rejoice!'
As he would echo back to heaven,
The holy transport grace had given.

Young TIMOTHY is on record,
Who sought betimes to know the Lord.
Here true maternal love we find,

Which form'd the heart, and taught the mind.
Here may the British mother learn,
Her child's best interests to discern;
Her faithfulness to God best prove,
And best evince her Christian love.
Paul, while his pupil's good he seeks,
Thro' him to unborn pastors speaks:
'Reprove, exhort, be earnest still
Your high commission to fulfil;
Watch, labour, pray; in these consist
The works of an Evangelist.'
As Bishop, he commands again,
Commit the trust to faithful men ;'
Bids him observe, that those who preach
Need to remind as well as teach.
To raise his soul to solemn thought,
God's judgment is before him brought;
When seated in tremendous state,
The blest and only Potentate,
The members of the living head
Shall meet the Judge of quick and dead,
Then Christ his faithful sons shall own,
Who bore his Cross, shall wear his Crown.

Next TITUS, youthful yet discreet,
First Bishop of the Isle of Crete.
Here prudent Paul, divines to show
They ought their people's faults to know,
Quotes their own poet, to declare
The Cretans sensual, insincere.
Such knowledge teaches to reprove
The erring, and the just to love.

Now in the gentle tone of friend
See him to private life descend;
The sober duties to impart,

Which grace the life, and mend the heart.
Shows on what consecrated ground
Domestic happiness is found;
Warns the fair convert not to roam:
The truest joys are found at home;
"Tis there the chaste obedient mind
Will life's best charm confer, and find.

Follows PHILEMON, who forgave,
Yea, honour'd, his converted slave.

Paul to the HEBREWS writes :-O, then,
What inspiration guides his pen!
Let wits revile, let Atheists rail,
Such evidence shall never fail,
VOL. I.
7

As the first pages here supply
Of Christ's unclouded Deity.

As he proceeds, to faith 'tis given
To soar on loftier wing to heaven.
See here the doctrine prov'd by facts,
Belief exhibited in acts.

See conquering Faith's heroic hand
Church-militant in order stand!
The Red-Sea passengers we view,
Jephtha and Gideon, Barak too.
Had we all time, the time would fail
Of heroes to record the tale,
Whose deeds their attestation bring
That faith is no ideal thing.
Say, could ideal faith aspire
To quench the violence of fire?
To stop the famish'd lion's rage!
With dread temptations to engage;
All deaths despise, all dangers dare,
With no support, save God and prayer?

'Tis pride,' the sneering Sceptic cries, 'Rank pride, the martyr's strength supplies: His fortitude by praise is fed,

Praise is Religion's daily bread.
The public show, the attendant crowd,
The admiration fond and loud;

The gaze, the noise his soul sustains,
Applause the opiate of his pains;
Withdraw the charm spectators bring,
And torture is no joyous thing.'

Thy triumphs, Faith, we need not take
Alone from the blest martyr's stake;
In scenes obscure, no less we see
That faith is a reality.

An evidence of things not seen,
A substance firm whereon to lean,
Go search the cottager's lone room,
The day scarce piercing thro' the gloom:
The Christian on his dying bed
Unknown, unletter'd, hardly fed
No flatt'ring witnesses attend,
To tell how glorious was his end,
Save in the book of life, his name
Unheard, he never dreamt of fame.
No human consolation near,
No voice to soothe, no friend to cheer.
Of every earthly stay bereft,
And nothing but his SAVIOUR left.
Fast sinking to his kindred dust,
The Word of Life is still his trust.
The joy God's promises impart
Lies like a cordial at his heart;
Unshaken faith its strength supplies,
He loves, believes, adores, and dies.

The great Apostle ceascs;-then
To holy JAMES resigns the pen;
James, full of faith and love, no doubt,
The practical and the devout.

Ye rich, the saint indignant cried,
Curs'd are all riches misapplied!
Abhorr'd the wealth which useless lies,
When merit claims, or hunger cries!
The wise alike with scorn behold
The hoarded as the squander'd gold.
In man opposing passions meet
The liberal feelings to defeat:
PLEASURE and AVARICE both agree
To stop the tide of charity:
Tho' each detests the other's deeds,

K

The same effect from both proceeds:
Curs'd is the gold, or sav'd, or spent,
Which God for mercy's portion meant:
Chemists in transmutation bold
Attempt to make base metals gold.
Let Christians then transmute their pelf
To something nobler than itself;
On heaven their rescued wealth bestow,
And send it home before they go:
HE will the blest deposit own:
Who seals the pardon, gives the crown.

PETER the bold, who perils hail'd
Who promis'd much, and much he fail'd;
Peter, the generous rash, and warm,
Who lov'd his Lord, but shrunk from harm;
Peter the coward and the brave,
Denying him he wish'd to save;
O Peter, what reproachful word,
What dagger keen, what two-edg'd sword,
Could pierce thy bosom like the last,
Last look thy Saviour on thee cast?
That speechless eloquence divine,
No pen, no pencil can define.
Peter, how bitter were thy tears!
Remorse absorb'd thy guilty fears.

Still, Peter, did thy risen Lord,
Conqueror of death, his grace afford;
Not to the men of faith approv'd,
Not to the saint whom Jesus loved.
It was to heal thy broken heart,
Comfort to anguish to impart :
Yes-'twas to Peter that by name
Alone the glorious tidings came.

Now mark the wond'rous power of grace!
His character has chang'd its face;
The noblest attitude assumes :
Who now on his own strength presumes?
Where now his fears? we only see
True Christian magnanimity.
Who now the foremost to declare
Their grand commission? who to dare
The standard of the cross to raise,
And his ador'd Redeemer praise?
Applause he scorn'd however true,
But gave the glory where 'twas due,
With what majestic grace he rose,
Fearless of all surrounding foes;
Brought the old Scriptures to apply
His argument from prophecy:
From miracles which well accord,
He prov'd that Jesus was the Lord.

When requisite in some hard case
To check deceit, unmask the base,
'Twas Peter's office: see him dare
Seize the prevaricating pair.*
One question stops the fraudful breath,
And blasts them both with instant death.
Ask you the truth he lov'd to teach,
The theme selected first to preach ?
Repentance! What he felt he taught:
A mighty change his preaching wrought
The fruits were equal to the zeal,
They best can teach who deepest feel.
Crown'd were his labours: Peter died
A martyr to the CRUCIFIED.

With love his pure EPISTLES fraught,
JOHN teaches what his gospel taught;
* Ananias and Sapphira.

He needs no argument to prove,
Save his own heart, that God is love.

JUDE, what his letter wants in length,
Redeems by energy and strength.
Confirms the truth from revelation
Of Enoch's marvellous translation.
Hear him in awful terms declare,
The mis'ries which the ungodly share!
Clouds without water, dark yet dry,
Spots in the feasts of charity;
Trees withering, destitute of fruit,
Exterminated branch and root.

Now in its pomp and dread array, He summons to the judgment-day. O, what conflicting trains of thought, Has this amazing image brought! O, what a fire this spark has kindled, Of terror and of transport mingled! Spirits who lost their first estate Retaining their immortal hate. The bold impenitent shall hear His doom; his sentence black despair. The hypocrite detected lie, Naked, laid bare to every eye. To crown the horrors which await, All feel the justice of their fate. Their fears their punishment foretell, And conscience does the work of Hell. They as the achme of their pain, Acquit their Judge themselves arraign. No shelter now from rocks or caves, No refuge from the fiery waves; What wonder, wildly if they call The mountains on their heads to fall.

Then see the Man of Sorrows found, The Lord of life and glory crown'd. Jesus appears, as Enoch paints, Surrounded by ten thousand saints. Lo! heaven and earth their tribute bring Of glory to the eternal king! Angels, archangels, each degree Of heaven's celestial hierarchy ! The noble martyr's valiant band Before their conq'ring Captain stand! The goodly prophets here behold Fulfill'd the scenes they once foretold: Their Lord encircling, here we see The Apostles' glorious company: Heaven kindly vails from human sight All that dread day will bring to light.

THE REVELATION. THE saint of Patmos last we meet, And revelation stands complete.

In this bright vision, tho' he brings Scenes of unutterable things; He tempers heaven's effulgent light, Too powerful else for mortal sight. Partly by negatives are shown Joys which hereafter shall be known: Suffering, and sin, and death, are o'er, For former things are seen no more; No sorrow felt, and heav'd no sigh, And tears are wip'd from every eye. Yet not by negative alone, Consummate glory shall be known; Not only shall be found no night, The LAMB himself shall be the light.

INTRODUCTION.

O FOR the sacred energy which struck
The harp of Jesse's son! or for a spark
Of that celestial flame which touch'd the lips
Of bless'd Isaiah:* when the Seraphim
With living fire descended, and his soul
From sin's pollution purg'd! or one faint ray,
If human things to heavenly I may join,
Of that pure spirit which inflam'd the breast
Of Milton, God's own poet! when retir'd
In fair enthusiastic vision wrapt,

The nightly visitant deign'd bless his couch
With inspiration, such as never flow'd
From Acidale or Aganippe's fount!

Then, when the sacred fire within him burnt,
He spake as man or angels might have spoke,
When man was pure, and angels were his
guests.

It will not be.-Nor prophet's burning zeal,
Nor muse of fire, nor yet to sweep the strings
With sacred energy, to me belongs;
Nor with Miltonic hand to touch the chords
That wake to ecstacy. From me, alas!
The secret source of harmony is hid;
The magic pow'rs which catch the ravish'd soul
In melody's sweet maze, and the clear streams
Which to pure fancy's yet untasted springs
Enchanted lead. Of these I little know!
Yet, all unknowing, dare thy aid invoke,
Spirit of truth! to bless these worthless lays:
Nor impious is the hope; for thou hast said,
That none who ask in faith should ask in vain.
You I invoke not now, ye fabled Nine!
I not invoke you though you well were sought
In Greece and Latium, sought by deathless
bards.

Whose syren song enchants; and shall enchant Through time's wide circling round, tho' false their faith,

And less than human were the gods they sung. Though false their faith they taught the best they knew;

And (blush, O Christians!) liv'd above their faith.

They would have bless'd the beam and hail'd the day

Which chas'd the moral darkness from their souls.

O! had their minds receiv'd the clearer ray
Of Revelation, they had learn'd to scorn
Their rites impure, their less than human gods,
Their wild mythology's fantastic maze.

Pure Plato! how had thy chaste spirit hail'd
A faith so fitted to thy moral sense!
What hadst thou felt to see the fair romance
Of high imagination, the bright dream
Of thy pure fancy, more than realiz'd!
Sublime enthusiast! thou hadst blest a scheme
Fair, good, and perfect. How had thy wrapt
soul

Caught fire, and burnt with a diviner flame!
For e'en thy fair idea ne'er conceiv'd
Such plenitude of bliss, such boundless love,
As Deity made visible to sense.
Unhappy Brutus ! philosophic mind!
Great 'midst the errors of the Stoic school!
How had thy kindling spirit joy'd to find
That thy lov'd virtue was no empty name :
Isaiah, chap. vi.

Nor hadst thou met the vision at Philippi; Nor hadst thou sheath'd thy bloody dagger's point

Or in the breast of Cæsar or thy own.

The pagan page how far more wise than ours! They with the gods they worshipp'd grac'd their

song:

Our song we grace with gods we disbelieve :
Retain the manners but reject the creed.
Shall fiction only raise poetic flame,
And shall no altar blaze, O Truth, to thee?
Shall falsehood only please and fable charm?
And shall eternal truth neglected lie?
Because immortal, slighted, or profan'd?
Truth has our rev'rence only, not our love;
Our praise, but not our hearts: a deity,
Confess'd, but shunn'd; acknowledged, not
ador'd;

Alarm'd we dread her penetrating beams:
She comes too near us, and too brightly shines.
Why shun to make our duty our delight?
Let pleasure be the motive, disallow

All high incentives drawn from God's command;
Where shall we trace, through all the page pro-

fane,

A livelier pleasure and a purer source
Of innocent delight, than the fair book
Of holy truth presents? for ardent youth,
The sprightly narrative! for years mature,
The moral document, in sober robe
Of grave philosophy array'd: which all
Had heard with admiration, had embrac'd
With rapture, had the shades of Academe,
Or the learn'd Porch produc'd it :-Tomes had
then

Been multiplied on tomes, to draw the veil
Of graceful allegory, to unfold
Some hidden source of beauty now not felt!

Do not the pow'rs of soul-enchanting song,
Strong imagery, bold figure, every charm
Of eastern flight sublime, apt metaphor,
And all the graces in thy lovely train,
Divine simplicity! assemble all

In Sion's songs, and bold Isaiah's strain?

Why should the classic eye delight to trace The tale corrupted from its prime pure source; How Pyrrha and the fam'd Thessalian king Restor'd the ruin'd race of lost mankind: Yet turn, incurious, from the patriarch sav'd The rescued remnant of a delug'd world? Why are we taught, delighted to recount Alcides' labours, yet neglect to note Heroic Samson 'midst a life of toil Herculean? Pain and peril marking both, A life eventful and disasterous death. Can all the tales which Grecian story yields; Can all the names the Roman page records, Of wond'rous friendship and surpassing love Can gallant Theseus and his brave compeer; Orestes and the partner of his toils; Achates and his friend: Euryalus And blooming Nisus, pleasant in their lives, And undivided by the stroke of death; Can each, can all, a lovelier picture yield Of virtuous friendship: can they all present A tenderness more touching than the love Of Jonathan and David ?-Speak, ye young! Who, undebauched as yet by fashion's lore, And unsophisticate, unbiass'd judge: Say, is your quick attention more arous'd