See Deborah, with high-soaring soul,
The tide of public vice control.
She summons princes to rejoice,
Judges and kings to hear her voice.
To Israel's unattending ears
With tongue oracular, declares
They owe the close of war's alarm
Alone to an Almighty arm:
Shows them all victory is from God;
Shows bow magnificent he trod
When Sinai's heights his voice rebound,
And mountains melted at the sound;
How Edom trembled from its base,
And thunders shook the astonish'd place.
Who could th' appalling lightnings bear
If Moses said, “I quake and fear?”
Deborah! thy song's high tone is such,
I venerate, but dare not touch;
I would not do thee such a wrong,
To mar thy sanctimonious song.
From thy immortal hymn we learn
Conquest's best uses to discern:
When wars a guilty land invade,
What promises, what prayers, are made;
When peace extends her olive wand
To raise and bless the guilty land,
In the warm flush of recent joy,
What thanks, what vows our lips employ
'Tis not enough, that feast and song
The gratulating strain prolong;
But open temples homage pay,
And chant the tributary lay.
The crowds the cry symphonious raise, And heaven accepts the grateful praise.
And, oh! that favour'd Britain now Would so fulfil her fervent vow,
That God might with his blessing crown
The prayer, and a chang'd people own.
This were the method to secure
A solid peace which might endure.
That late posterity may say,
When they our happier times survey,
In England's annals it appears
"The land had rest for forty years."
God's tender care of pious youth Is sweetly seen in past'ral RUTH: Here filial piety is found,
And with its promis'd blessing crown'd.
SAMUEL, the child of many tears, The child of promise and of prayers; Ere on thy birth the mother smil'd, To God she dedicates her child. How many, when the blessing's gain'd, Forget the mercy prayer obtain'd. Not so our saint; possession paid. The holy vow which sorrow made. Hail, venerable seer! of all The prophets, thine the earliest call. Through life his godly course he ran, The boy predictive of the man.
The Judge, the Prophet, and the Sage, Corrected, serv'd, and rul'd the age.
With conscience void of all offence,
Like Paul, he pleads his innocence : "What orphan have I e'er bereav'd,
"What frauds employ'd, what bribes receiv'd? “Whom have I wrong'd, or whom oppress'd, "What grievance left I unredress'd ?"
Blest Britain! who, like Israel, claims
Judges of upright ends and aims;
Such may our country ever see,
Judges of stainless purity!
Duteous submission shall we grudge,
Where the laws govern ev'n the judge?
Good Samuel, as the Lord appoints,
The king, so loudly ask'd, anoints;
With sorrow deep th' historian brings
Succession sad of Israel's KINGS;
And CHRONICLES prolongs the story,
So little to the royal glory:
Though some were faithful, just, and true,
We grieve to say they were but few.
No prophet on the rolls of fame
Eclipses great ELIJAH'S name;
Impelled by faith, disdaining fear,
To kings and priests alike sincere.
The altar once on Carmel built
To God, proclaims th' apostates' guilt.
"Twas there th' illustrious Tishbite, born
On Baal to pour indignant scorn,
With keenest irony maintains
His power divine, in heaven who reigns;
Contemns, as round the trench he trod,
Their talking, sleeping, journeying god.
To heaven behold him still aspire,
Then reach it in a car of fire.
EZRA deserves immortal praise, Who sought the Temple's walls to raise.
How shall I NEHEMIAH paint, The courtier, patriot, and the saint?
In ESTHER, Providence displays,
To us inscrutable, his ways;
Here the fair queen with modest grace
Obtains protection for her race:
The oppress'd from hence a lesson draws
Of courage in a righteous cause;
And here, the snares for virtue spread,
Return to plague th' inventor's head.
JOB, on his dunghill, far more great
Than when he dwelt in regal state:
He heard, before, Jehovah's grace,
But now, he sees him face to face;
Meekly he bow'd before his God,
He felt the smart, but kiss'd the rod.
"In me, great God, complete thy will;
"Slay me, and I will trust Thee still."
To Scripture's elder bards belong
The lofty tone of sacred song:
The noblest thoughts of power divine,
Throughout th' Arabian poet shine.
If moon and stars, though sailing seen
In radiance through the blue serene,
If these celestial orbs so bright
Want purity in God's pure sight,
Lord, what is man, corruption's heir,
That he, a worm, thy love should share?
When on God's glories Job dilates *,
His goodness lauds, his grandeur states;
On infinite perfection dwells,
And crowns the glory which excels;
Exhausts description to proclaim
The glories which surround his name;
Oppress'd he sinks beneath the blaze.
"These are but parts of God's deep ways,"
He cries: if parts o'erwhelm the soul,
Oh! who could stand the amazing whole?
Maker Omnipotent! First Cause!
Author of being! Source of laws!
Shall He who gave creation birth
Not govern, as He made the earth?
Shall not the worlds be ordered still
By Him who fram'd them at his will?
Methinks this vast terrestrial ball
If self-supported needs must fall:
Yet He, to teach whom man pretends,
On nothing this great globe suspends.
But if, inscrutable to man,
Lies hid creation's wondrous plan;
If to Himself th' Almightiest keep
Secrets for mortal ken too deep;
If, in eternity made fast,
His schemes lie hid from first to last;
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