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Descend, celestial fire,

And seize me from above; Melt me in flames of pure desire, A sacritice to love.

Let joy and worship spend The remnant of my days, And to my God, my soul, ascend, In sweet perfumes of praise.

TRUE LEARNING.

PARTLY IMITATED FROM A FRENCH SONNET OF
M. POIRET

HAPPY the feet that shining Truth has led
With her own hand to tread the path she please,
To see her native lustre round her spread,

Without a veil, without a shade,

All beauty, and all light, as in herself she is!
Our senses cheat us with the pressing crowds
Of painted shapes they thrust upon the mind:
The truth they show lies wrapp'd in sevenfold shrouds,
Our senses cast a thousand clouds

On unenlighten'd souls, and leave them doubly blind.

I hate the dust that fierce disputers raise,
And lose the mind in a wild maze of thought:
What empty triflings, and what empty ways,

To fence and guard by rule and rote! [not.
Our God will never charge us, That we knew them
Touch, heavenly Word, O touch these curious souls:
Since I have heard but one soft hint from thee,
From all the vain opinions of the schools

(That pageantry of knowing fools)

I feel my powers releas'd, and stand divinely free.
'Twas this Almighty Word that all things made,
He grasps whole Nature in his single hand;
All the eternal truths in him are laid,

The ground of all things, and their head, [stand.
The circle where they move, and centre where they
Without his aid I have no sure defence,
From troops of errours that besiege me round;
But he that rests his reason and his sense

Fast here, and never wanders hence, Unmoveable he dwells upon unshaken ground. Infinite Truth, the life of my desires, Come from the sky, and join thyself to me: I'm tir'd with hearing, and this reading tires; But never tir'd of telling thee, ""Tis thy fair face alone my spirit burns to see." Speak to my soul, alone; no other hand Shall mark my path out with delusive art: All nature, silent in his presence stand;

Creatures, be dumb at his command, And leave his single voice to whisper to my heart.

Retire, my soul, within thyself retire, Away from sense and every outward show: Now let my thoughts to loftier theines aspire; My knowledge now on wheels of fire May mount and spread above, surveying all below.

The Lord grows lavish of his heavenly light, And pours whole floods on such a mind as this: Fled from the eyes, she gains a piercing sight, She dives into the infinite, And sees unutterable things in that unknown abyss.'

TRUE WISDOM.

PRONOUNCE him blest, my Muse, whom Wisdom guides

In her own path to her own heavenly seat; Through all the storms his soul securely glides, Nor can the tempests, nor the tides, That rise and roar around, supplant his steady feet.

Earth, you may let your golden arrows fly, And seek, in vain, a passage to his breast, Spread all your painted toys to court his eye; He smiles, and sees them vainly try To lure his soul aside from her eternal rest.

Our headstrong lusts, like a young fiery horse, Start and flee, raging in a violent course; [them, He tames and breaks them, manages and rides

Checks their career, and turns and guides them, And bids his reason bridle their licentious force.

Lord of himself, he rules his wildest thoughts, And boldly acts what calmly he design'd, While he looks down and pities human faults; Nor can he think, nor can he find,

A plague like reigning passions, and a subject mind.

But oh! 'tis mighty toil to reach this height,. To vanquish self is a laborious art;

What manly courage to sustain the fight, To bear the noble pain, and part [heart! With those dear charming tempters rooted in the

'Tis hard to stand when all the passions move,
Hard to awake the eye that passion blinds;
To rend and tear out this unhappy love,
That clings so close about our minds,

And where th' enchanted soul so sweet a poison finds.

Hard; but it may be done. Come, heavenly fire,
Come to my breast, and with one powerful ray
Melt off my lusts, my fetters: I can bear
A while to be a tenant here,

But not be chain'd and prison'd in a cage of clay.

Heaven is my home, and I must use my wings;
Sublime above the globe my flight aspires:
I have a soul was made to pity kings,

And all their little glittering things;

I have a soul was made for infinite desires.

Loos'd from the Earth, my heart is upward flown ; Farewell, my friends, and all that once was mine: Now, should you fix my feet on Cæsar's throne,

Crown me, and call the world my own, [contine. The gold that binds my brows could ne'er my soul

I am the Lord's, and Jesus is my love; He, the dear God, shall fill my vast desire. My flesh below; yet I can dwell above, And nearer to my Saviour move; There all my soul shall centre, all my pow'rs conspire.

Thus I with angels live; thus half-divine
I sit on high, nor mind inferior joys:

Fill'd with his love, I feel that God is mine,
His glory is my great design,

That everlasting project all my thoughts employs.

A SONG TO CREATING WISDOM.

PART I.

ETERNAL Wisdom, thee we praise,

Thee the creation sings:

With thy loud name, rocks, hills, and seas, And Heaven's high palace rings.

Place me on the bright wings of Day To travel with the Sun;

With what amaze shall I survey

The wonders thou hast done!

Thy hand how wide it spread the sky!
How glorious to behold!

Ting'd with a blue of heavenly dye,
And starr'd with sparkling gold.
There thou hast bid the globes of light
Their endless circles run;
There the pale planet rules the night,
And day obeys the Sun.

PART II.

Downward I turn my wondering eyes
On clouds and storms below,
Those under-regions of the skies
Thy numerous glories show.

The noisy winds stand ready there
Thy orders to obey,

With sounding wings they sweep the air,
To make thy chariot way.

There, like a trumpet, loud and strong,
Thy thunder shakes our coast;
While the red lightnings wave along,
The banners of thine host.

On the thin air, without a prop,
Hang fruitful showers around:
At thy command they sink, and drop
Their fatness on the ground.

PART III..

Now to the Earth I bend my song,
And cast my eyes abroad,
Glancing the British isles along;
Blest Isles, confess your God.
How did his wondrous skill array
Your fields in charming green!
A thousand herbs his art display,
A thousand flowers between.
Tall oaks for future navies grow,
Fair Albion's best defence,
While corn and vines rejoice below,
Those luxuries of sense.

The bleating flocks his pasture feeds:
And herds of larger size,
That bellow through the Lindian meads,
His bounteous hand supplies.

PART IV.

We see the Thames caress the shores;
He guides her silver flood;
While angry Severn swells and roars,

Yet hears her ruler, God.

The rolling mountains of the deep
Observe his strong command;
His breath can raise the billows steep,
Or sink them to the sand.

Amidst thy watery kingdoms, Lord,
The finny nations play,
And scaly monsters, at thy word,
Rush through the northern sea.

PART V.

Thy glories blaze all nature round,
And strike the gazing sight,

Through skies, and seas, and solid ground,
With terrour and delight.

Infinite strength, and equal skill,

Shine through the worlds abroad, Our souls with vast amazement fill, And speak the builder God.

But the sweet beauties of thy grace
Our softer passions move;
Pity divine in Jesu's face
We see, adore, and love.

GOD'S ABSOLUTE DOMINION.

LORD, when my thoughtful soul surveys
Fire, air, and earth, and stars, and seas,
I call them all thy slaves;
Commission'd by my Father's will,
Poisons shall cure, or balms shall kill;
Vernal suns, or Zephyr's breath,
May burn or blast the plants to death
That sharp December saves;
What can winds or planets boast
But a precarious power?
The Sun is all in darkness lost,
Frost shall be fire, and fire be frost,
When he appoints the hour.

Lo, the Norwegians near the polar sky
Chafe their frozen limbs with snow;
Their frozen limbs awake and glow ;
The vital flame, touch'd with a strange supply,
Rekindles, for the God of life is nigh;
He bids the vital flood in wonted circles flow.
Cold steel, expos'd to northern air,
Drinks the meridian fury of the midnight Bear,
And burns th' unwary stranger there.
Inquire, my soul, of ancient Fame,
Look back two thousand years, and see
Th' Assyrian prince transform'd a brute,
For boasting to be absolute:
Once to his court the God of Israel came,
A King more absolute than he.

I see the furnace blaze with rage
Sevenfold: I see amidst the flame
Three Hebrews of immortal name:
They move, they walk across the burning stage
Unhurt, and fearless, while the tyrant stood
A statue; fear congeal'd his blood:
Nor did the raging element dare
Attempt their garments, or their hair:
It knew the Lord of nature there.
Nature, compell'd by a superior cause,
Now breaks her own eternal laws,

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O shall I never feel

The meltings of thy love? Am I such hell-harden'd steel That mercy cannot move?

Now for one powerful glance, Dear Saviour, from thy face; This rebel heart no more withstands, But sinks beneath thy grace.

O'ercome by dying love I fall,
Here at thy cross I lie;

And throw my flesh, my soul, my all,
And weep, and love, and die.

"Rise," says the Prince of Mercy, "rise,"
With joy and pity in his eyes:
"Rise, and behold my wounded veins,
Here flows the blood to wash thy stains..
"See my Great Father reconcil'd:"
He said. And lo, the Father smil'd:
The joyful cherubs clapp'd their wings,
And sounded grace on all their strings.

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Adore the hand that led your way Through flowery fields a fair long summer's day; Gasp out your soul in praises to the sovereign power That set your west so distant from your dawning hour:

To know the Power supreme. Ye heads of venerable age, Just marching off the mortal stage, Fathers, whose vital threads are spun As long as e'er the glass of life would run,

VOL, XIIL

FLYING FOWL, AND CREEPING THINGS, PRAISE YE THE LORD.

PSALM CXLVIII. 10:

SWEET flocks, whose soft enamell'd wing
Swift and gently cleaves the sky;
Whose charming notes address the Spring
With an artless harmony:

Lovely minstrels of the field,
Who in leafy shadows sit,

And your wondrous structures build,
Awake your tuneful voices with the dawning light:
To Nature's God your first devotions pay,

Ere you salute the rising day;

'Tis he calls up the Sun, and gives him every ray.
Serpents, who o'er the meadows slide,
And wear upon your shining back
Numerous ranks of gaudy pride,
Which thousand mingling colours make;
Let the fierce glances of your eyes
Rebate their baleful fire:

In harmless play twist and unfold
The volumes of your scaly gold:
That rich embroidery of your gay attire,
Proclaims your Maker kind and wise.
Insects and mites, of mean degree,
That swarm in myriads o'er the land,
Moulded by Wisdom's artful hand,
And curl'd and painted with a various dye;
In your innumerable forms

Praise him that wears th' ethereal crown,
And bends his lofty counsels down
To despicable worms.

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