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Peace ! - To his solitude he bears
The full-blown fame of thirty years ;
He bears a nation's praise :
He bears his lib’ral, polish'd mind,
His worth, his wit, his sense refin'd;
He bears his well-earn’d Bays.
When warm admirers drop a tear
Because the sun has left his sphere,
And set before his time,
I who have felt and lov'd his rays,
What they condemn will loudly praise,
And call the deed sublime.
How wise! long pamper’d with applause,
To make a voluntary pause,
And lay his laurels down !
Boldly repelling each strong claim,
To dare assert to Wealth and Fame,
“ Enough of both I've known."
How wise! a short retreat to steal,
The vanity of life to feel,
And from its cares to fly;
To act one calm, domestic scene,
Earth's bustle, and the grave between,
Retire, and learn to die.
BEING SUITABLE THOUGHTS FOR A NEW YEAR.
HERE, bliss is short, imperfect, insincere ;
But total, absolute, and perfect there.
Here, time's a moment, short our happiest state;
There, infinite duration is our date.
Here, Satan tempts, and troubles e'en the best ;
There, Satan's pow'r extends not to the blest.
In a weak sinful body here I dwell,
But there I drop this frail and sickly shell.
Here, my best thoughts are stain’d with guilt and fear ;
But love and pardon shall be perfect there.
Here, my best duties are defild with sin;
There, all is ease without, and peace within.
Here, feeble faith supplies my only light;
There, faith and hope are swallow'd up in sight.
Here, love of self my fairest works destroys ; :
There, love of GoD shall perfect all my joys.
Here, things, as in a glass, are darkly shown;
There, I shall know as clearly as I'm known.
Frail are the fairest flow’rs which bloom below;
There, freshest palms on roots immortal grow.
Here, wants or cares perplex my anxious mind;
But spirits there a calm fruition find.
Here, disappointments my best schemes destroy;
There, those that sow'd in tears shall reap in joy.
Here, vanity is stamp'd on all below;
Perfection there on ev'ry good shall grow.
Here, my fond heart is fasten'd on some friend,
Whose kindness may, whose life must have an end:
But there, no failure can I ever prove,
God cannot disappoint, for God is love.
Here, Christ for sinners suffer'd, groan'd, and bled;
But there, He reigns the great triumphant head:
Here, mock'd and scourg'd he wore a crown of thorns;
A crown of glory there his brow adorns.
Here, error clouds the will, and dims the sight;
There, all is knowledge, purity, and light.
Here, so imperfect is this mortal state,
If blest myself, I mourn some other's fate.
At every human woe I here repine;
The joy of ev'ry saint shall there be mine.
Here, if I lean, the world shall pierce my heart;
But there, that broken reed and I shall part.
Here, on no promis'd good can I depend;
But there, the Rock of Ages is my friend.
Here, if some sudden joy delight inspire,
The dread to lose it damps the rising fire;
But there, whatever good the soul employ,
The thought that 'tis eternal crowns the joy.
THE IMPOSSIBILITY CONQUERED:
LOVE YOUR NEIGHBOUR AS YOURSELF.
IN THE MANNER OF SIR WALTER RALEIGH.
Each man who lives, the Scriptures prove,
Must as himself his neighbour love;
But though the precept's full of beauty,
'Tis an impracticable duty:
I'll prove how hard it is to find
A lover of this wondrous kind.
Who loves himself to great excess,
You'll grant must love his neighbour less :
When self engrosses all the heart
How can another have a part ?
Then if self-love most men inthrall,
A neighbour's share is none at all.
Say, can the man who hoards up pelf
E’er love his neighbour as himself?
For if he did, would he not labour
To hoard a little for his neighbour ?
Then tell me, friend, can hoarding elves
E’er love their neighbour as themselves ?
THE IMPOSSIBILITY CONQUERED.
The man whose heart is bent on pleasure
Small love will to his neighbour measure:
Who solely studies his own good,
Can't love another if he would :
Then how can pleasure-hunting elves
E’er love their neighbour as themselves ?
Can he whom sloth and loitring please
E’er love his neighbour like his ease?
Or he who feels ambition's flame
Loves he his neighbour like his fame ?
Such lazy, or such soaring elves
Can't love their neighbour as themselves.
He whose gross appetites enslave him,
Who spends on feasts the wealth God gave him;
Full, pamper'd, gorged at ev'ry meal,
He cannot for the empty feel.
How can such gormandising elves
E’er love their neighbour as themselves?
Then since the man who lusts for gold,
Since he who is to pleasure sold;
Who soars in pride, or sinks in ease,
His neighbour will not serve or please;
Where shall we hope the man to find
To fill this great command inclined ?
I dare not blame God's holy word,
Nor censure Scripture as absurd :