Withering Flower, upbraid me not!
Why cast on me that look so pale?
Why dost thou my attention court, To listen to thy mournful tale?
Why bow thy head? Why bend thy neck?
Why look so drooping, wan, and cold?
To give my careless thoughts a check,- And tell me _I_ am getting old!
Fading Flower, upbraid me not!
Still nodding with the gentle breeze.
Or dost thou think I have forgot, I too am wasting by degrees?
For scarce can I believe my sight, Who lately saw thee fresh and gay; That beauty could so early blight, Or such fresh colours fade away!
Drooping Flower, upbraid me not!
But turn to Sol's enlivening ray.
I in some climate cold or hot, Must also sicken and decay!
Nay, why dost thou shake off thy leaf, And show thy heart so fair and clean?
But mine to smite with inward grief,- To feel the many plagues within.
Weeping Flower, upbraid me still!
For half the conquest thou hast gain'd.
Yes! listen to thy tale I will, Until its meaning be explain'd.
Fair emblem thou of human life; In thee its changing tints are seen; Our visit here, so frail and brief, Is painted in those tints of thine!
When in thy bud so rich and gay, Thou did'st escape the spoiler's hand That would have reft thy charms away, 'Twas pity check'd-and let thee stand!
While cherish'd by the blushing fair, And waving on thy hardy stem, Thy fragrance rich, perfum'd the air,- Thou'rt blasted now to me and them!
Unlike to thee, whose task is done, When Man shall quit this vale of tears, After this life's short glass is run, Man shall exist in nobler spheres.
All earthly glories fade away, So transient and so insecure; With us, alas, how short's their stay!
Prefigur'd by a dying Flower!
Yet we have cause to bless the day, If weary of a life mispent, By this thy exit, any may Be led to ponder, and repent.
Thou transient teller of the truth, May he who bids, and thunders roll, Forgive the follies of my youth, And stamp thy lesson on My soul!
THE COUNTRY LOVE FEAST.
(_Held in an old Barn, Farndale, Yorkshire._)
Sing, O my muse, in praise of Zion sing, In praise of those who her glad tidings bring, In praise to Him who left the courts above, To manifest to us his Father's love!
Celestial powers, my heart and voice inspire, If such a worm as I can feel your heav'nly fire; To such a theme, to such a noble song, Sublimer strains than I can reach belong.
Glory to God, whose mercy and free grace, Are not confin'd to either time or place, To bless, and save the fallen sons of men, To cleanse believers, and to pardon sin.
O what an humble, yet exalted place, Where Christians meet, the great I AM to praise.
A Barn!-A Temple! what a place is this!
Emblem of heav'n, and type of future bliss!
An earthen floor serves us on which to tread, The roof is cover'd with the spider's web:- To such is man's best righteousness compar'd, By which full many a lofty head's ensnar'd.
No crimson pews distinguish rich from poor, No brass inscriptions glitter on the floor, No marble monuments adorn the wall, No polish'd altars where men prostrate fall, No tapestry doth hang the pulpit round, No costly vaults are in this temple found, No pealing organ's note delights the ear, But what is better far,-our God is here!
Wherever two or three sincerely meet, Who have towards Zion's city turn'd their feet, 'Tis there our God himself vouchsafes to be, To bind the strong, and set the prisoner free.
The world's applause we cheerfully disdain, And shelter here from company profane.
For as we differ, 'tis by Jesus' grace, And 'tis His presence dignifies the place.
Before us here the bread of life is spread, Behind are stalls where now the ox is fed.
Like that in Bethlehem where Jesus lay, This stable now beholds a glorious day!
Here Pilgrims meet their travels to relate, And when, and where they enter'd mercy's gate.
They tell us how their eyes with tears did fill, When unbelief was wilful of its will.
They tell us how their sins did them oppress, And fill'd their inmost souls with deep distress; And how the Lord their burden did remove, Pardon'd their sins, and fill'd their hearts with love.
They all rejoice to see each other's face, To hear each prospers in the work of grace.
With one consent their cheerful hearts aspire, And ecstasies of joy their bosoms fire.
Such times as these we think too soon are gone, Our happy souls cemented into one!
We pray, and part, each to his distant home, And still we cry, "Lord, let thy kingdom come!"
Both far and near his Kingdom doth extend, Temples are rising both by sea and land.
The Bethel flag, high waving in the air, Calls seamen to engage in praise and prayer, Whole streets, reform'd, the great assembly join, Speak with new tongues, and sing in songs divine.
Poor trembling sinners wipe their watery eyes, And lamentations pierce the bowing skies!
Blasphemers fall beneath the power of God, And statesmen flock to hear his Holy Word; While some of them a portion find to spare, Waste Zion's walls and bulwarks to repair.
See golden prospects round us rise, See the dejected raise their downcast eyes, The liberated captives shout applause To Zion's King, and his victorious cause!
ODE TO BRITAIN.
Shine, Britain! Shine! Thy virtues we commend; Thy light to distant nations shall extend.
A city on a hill cannot be hid, Nor can'st thou be, while Heav'n lifts up thy head.
Shine, Britain! Shine! O send the bible forth, To each benighted corner of the earth; Till all with joy its richest blessings taste, And share with us the glorious Gospel Feast.
O happy people! Highly favour'd Isle!
Which shares the sunshine of Jehovah's smile.
The scenes thy sons and daughters have enjoy'd, Kings have desir'd to see, but were denied.
We hope the sound of discord soon will cease, And angels sing a universal peace!
When barren lands with plenty shall abound, And Christ be worshipp'd the wide world around.
At thoughts of this the lonely desert sings, To see his altars throng'd with prostrate Kings; To see great men of honour and renown, Cast off the coronet to wear a crown!
Hasten, O Lord, the long-long wish'd for day, When favour'd with thy truth's enlightening ray, Poor Hottentots shall raise the song divine, And savage Turks, the heav'nly concert join.
When Blacks and Whites, a vast redeemed throng, Shall all unite to swell the mighty song; Worship one God, and hail Him Lord and King, Through the whole world the Saviour's praises sing.
A VOICE FROM THE DEAD!
Written on being uncivilly treated, when erecting some Tombstones in -- Church Yard, where the Author was denied the use of any part of the Church, Porch, or Stable; was forbidden to Letter the Stone in the Church Yard, though it was more than a mile from the Church to the nearest convenient place for such a work; and was also denied the Keys of the Gate:-yet at that very time, the parson's horse and cow, were feeding on the grass, tearing up the graves, and breaking down the stones, while none dared to complain! On seeing the horse's leg sink into a grave up to the lisk, the following thoughts suggested themselves.
What foot is that disturbs my rest, Which through my coffin lid hath press'd, And caus'd my bones the air to feel?- It is the parson's horse's heel!
'Tis hard so much as there's to pay, That corpses cannot quiet lay, But are by cow or horse plough'd up, For priests to reap a three-fold crop!
Through such a process they must pass, The grave, the tombstone, and the grass, And Easter Offering beside:- These claims must never be denied!
What though they do the grass devour, And leave their dung against the door!