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diff --git a/17081.txt b/17081.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..ed7bbfd --- /dev/null +++ b/17081.txt @@ -0,0 +1,2424 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook, Cottage Poems, by Patrick Bronte + + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + + + + +Title: Cottage Poems + + +Author: Patrick Bronte + + + +Release Date: November 16, 2005 [eBook #17081] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII) + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK COTTAGE POEMS*** + + + + + + +Transcribed from the 1893 J. M. Dent edition of "Poems of Charlotte, +Emily & Anne Bronte with Cottage Poems by Patrick Bronte" by David Price, +email ccx074@coventry.ac.uk + + + + + +COTTAGE POEMS. + + +EPISTLE TO THE REV. J--- B---, WHILST JOURNEYING FOR THE RECOVERY OF HIS +HEALTH. + + +When warm'd with zeal, my rustic Muse +Feels fluttering fain to tell her news, +And paint her simple, lowly views + With all her art, +And, though in genius but obtuse, + May touch the heart. + +Of palaces and courts of kings +She thinks but little, never sings, +But wildly strikes her uncouth strings + In some pool cot, +Spreads o'er the poor hen fostering wings, + And soothes their lot. + +Well pleased is she to see them smile, +And uses every honest wile +To mend then hearts, their cares beguile, + With rhyming story, +And lend them to then God the while, + And endless glory. + +Perchance, my poor neglected Muse +Unfit to harass or amuse, +Escaping praise and loud abuse, + Unheard, unknown, +May feed the moths and wasting dews, + As some have done. + +Her aims are good, howe'er they end-- +Here comes a foe, and there a friend, +These point the dart and those defend, + Whilst some deride her; +But God will sweetest comforts blend, + Whate'er betide her. + +Thus heaven-supported, forth she goes +Midst flatterers, critics, friends, and foes; +Secure, since He who all things knows + Approves her aim, +And kindly fans, or fostering blows + Her sinking flame. + +Hence, when she shows her honest face, +And tells her tale with awkward grace, +Importunate to gain a place + Amongst your friends, +To ruthless critics leave her case, + And hail her ends. + +To all my heart is kind and true, +But glows with ardent love for you; +Though absent, still you rise in view, + And talk and smile, +Whilst heavenly themes, for ever new, + Our cares beguile. + +The happy seasons oft return, +When love our melting hearts did burn, +As we through heavenly themes were borne + With heavenward eyes, +And Faith this empty globe would spurn, + And sail the skies. + +Or, when the rising sun shines bright, +Or, setting, leaves the world in night, +Or, dazzling, sheds his noon-day light, + Or, cloudy, hides, +My fancy, in her airy flight, + With you resides. + +Where far you wander down the vale, +When balmy scents perfume the gale, +And purling rills and linnets hail + The King of kings, +To muse with you I never fail, + On heavenly things. + +Where dashing cataracts astound, +And foaming shake the neighbouring ground, +And spread a hoary mist around, + With you I gaze!-- +And think, amid'st the deaf'ning sound, + On wisdom's ways. + +Where rocky mountains prop the skies, +And round the smiling landscape lies, +Whilst you look down with tearful eyes + On grovelling man, +My sympathetic fancy flies, + The scene to scan. + +From Pisgah's top we then survey +The blissful realms of endless day, +And all the short but narrow way + That lies between, +Whilst Faith emits a heavenly ray, + And cheers the scene. + +With you I wander on the shore +To hear the angry surges roar, +Whilst foaming through the sands they pour + With constant roll, +And meditations heavenward soar, + And charm the soul. + +On life's rough sea we're tempest-driven +In crazy barks, our canvas riven! +Such is the lot to mortals given + Where sins resort: +But he whose anchor's fixed in heaven + Shall gain the port. + +Though swelling waves oft beat him back, +And tempests make him half a wreck, +And passions strong, with dangerous tack, + Retard his course, +Yet Christ the pilot all will check, + And quell their force. + +So talk we as we thoughtful stray +Along the coast, where dashing spray +With rising mist o'erhangs the day, + And wets the shore, +And thick the vivid flashes play + And thunders roar! + +Whilst passing o'er this giddy stage, +A pious and a learned sage +Resolved eternal war to wage + With passions fell; +How oft you view with holy rage + These imps of hell! + +See! with what madd'ning force they sway +The human breast and lead astray, +Down the steep, broad, destructive way, + The giddy throng; +Till grisly death sweeps all away + The fiends among! + +As when the mad tornado flies, +And sounding mingles earth and skies, +And wild confusion 'fore the eyes + In terrors dressed. +So passions fell in whirlwinds rise, + And rend the breast! + +But whilst this direful tempest raves, +And many barks are dashed to staves, +I see you tower above the waves + Like some tall rock, +Whose base the harmless ocean laves + Without a shock! + +'Tis He who calmed the raging sea, +Who bids the waves be still in thee, +And keeps you from all dangers free + Amidst the wreck; +All sin, and care, and dangers flee + E'en at His beck. + +And on that great and dreadful day +When heaven and earth shall pass away, +Each soul to bliss He will convey, + That knows His name; +And give the giddy world a prey + To quenchless flame. + +So oft when Sabbaths bade us rest, +And heavenly zeal inspired your breast, +Obedient to the high behest + You preached to all, +Whilst God your zealous efforts blessed, + And owned your call. + +The very thought my soul inspires, +And kindles bright her latent fires; +My Muse feels heart-warm fond desires, + And spreads her wing, +And aims to join th' angelic choirs, + And sweetly sing. + +May rosy Health with speed return, +And all your wonted ardour burn, +And sickness buried in his urn, + Sleep many years! +So, countless friends who loudly mourn, + Shall dry their tears! + +Your wailing flock will all rejoice +To hear their much-loved shepherd's voice, +And long will bless the happy choice + Their hearts have made, +And tuneful mirth will swell the noise + Through grove and glade. + +Your dearer half will join with me +To celebrate the jubilee, +And praise the Great Eternal Three + With throbbing joy, +And taste those pleasures pure and free + Which never cloy. + + + + +THE HAPPY COTTAGERS. + + +One sunny morn of May, + When dressed in flowery green +The dewy landscape, charmed + With Nature's fairest scene, + In thoughtful mood + I slowly strayed + O'er hill and dale, + Through bush and glade. + +Throughout the cloudless sky + Of light unsullied blue, +The larks their matins raised, + Whilst on my dizzy view, + Like dusky motes, + They winged their way + Till vanished in + The blaze of day. + +The linnets sweetly sang + On every fragrant thorn, +Whilst from the tangled wood + The blackbirds hailed the morn; + And through the dew + Ran here and there, + But half afraid, + The startled hare. + +The balmy breeze just kissed + The countless dewy gems +Which decked the yielding blade + Or gilt the sturdy stems, + And gently o'er + The charmed sight + A deluge shed + Of trembling light. + +A sympathetic glow + Ran through my melting soul, +And calm and sweet delight + O'er all my senses stole; + And through my heart + A grateful flood + Of joy rolled on + To Nature's God. + +Time flew unheeded by, + Till wearied and oppressed, +Upon a flowery bank + I laid me down to rest; + Beneath my feet + A purling stream + Ran glittering in + The noontide beam. + +I turned me round to view + The lovely rural scene; +And, just at hand, I spied + A cottage on the green; + The street was clean, + The walls were white, + The thatch was neat, + The window bright. + +Bold chanticleer, arrayed + In velvet plumage gay, +With many an amorous dame, + Fierce strutted o'er the way; + And motley ducks + Were waddling seen, + And drake with neck + Of glossy green. + +The latch I gently raised, + And oped the humble door; +An oaken stool was placed + On the neat sanded floor; + An aged man + Said with a smile, + "You're welcome, sir: + Come rest a while." + +His coarse attire was clean, + His manner rude yet kind: +His air, his words, and looks + Showed a contented mind; + Though mean and poor, + Thrice happy he, + As by our tale + You soon shall see. + +But don't expect to hear + Of deeds of martial fame, +Or that our peasant mean + Was born of rank or name, + And soon will strut, + As in romance, + A knight and all + In armour glance. + +I sing of real life; + All else is empty show-- +To those who read a source + Of much unreal woe: + Pollution, too, + Through novel-veins, + Oft fills the mind + With guilty stains. + +Our peasant long was bred + Affliction's meagre child, +Yet gratefully resigned, + Loud hymning praises, smiled, + And like a tower + He stood unmoved, + Supported by + The God he loved. + +His loving wife long since + Was numbered with the dead +His son, a martial youth, + Had for his country bled; + And now remained + One daughter fair, + And only she, + To soothe his care. + +The aged man with tears + Spoke of the lovely maid; +How earnestly she strove + To lend her father aid, + And as he ran + Her praises o'er, + She gently oped + The cottage-door. + +With vegetable store + The table soon she spread, +And pressed me to partake; + Whilst blushes rosy-red + Suffused her face-- + The old man smiled, + Well pleased to see + His darling child. + +With venerable air + He then looked up to God, +A blessing craved on all, + And on our daily food; + Then kindly begged + I would excuse + Their humble fair, + And not refuse.-- + +The tablecloth, though coarse, + Was of a snowy white, +The vessels, spoons, and knives + Were clean and dazzling bright; + So down we sat + Devoid of care, + Nor envied kings + Their dainty fare. + +When nature was refreshed, + And we familiar grown; +The good old man exclaimed, + "Around Jehovah's throne, + Come, let us all + Our voices raise, + And sing our great + Redeemer's praise!" + +Their artless notes were sweet, + Grace ran through every line; +Their breasts with rapture swelled, + Their looks were all divine: + Delight o'er all + My senses stole, + And heaven's pure joy + O'erwhelmed my soul. + +When we had praised our God, + And knelt around His throne, +The aged man began + In deep and zealous tone, + With hands upraised + And heavenward eye, + And prayed loud + And fervently: + +He prayed that for His sake, + Whose guiltless blood was shed +For guilty ruined man, + We might that day be fed + With that pure bread + Which cheers the soul, + And living stream, + Where pleasures roll. + +He prayed long for all, + And for his daughter dear, +That she, preserved from ill, + Might lead for many a year + A spotless life + When he's no more; + Then follow him + To Canaan's shore. + +His faltering voice then fell, + His tears were dropping fast, +And muttering praise to God + For all His mercies past, + He closed his prayer + Midst heavenly joys, + And tasted bliss + Which never cloys. + +In sweet discourse we spent + The fast declining day: +We spoke of Jesus' love, + And of that narrow way + Which leads, through care + And toil below, + To streams where joys + Eternal flow. + +The wondrous plan of Grace, + Adoring, we surveyed, +The birth of heavenly skill-- + In Love Eternal laid-- + Too deep for clear + Angelic ken, + And far beyond + Dim-sighted men. + +To tell you all that passed + Would far exceed my power; +Suffice it, then, to say, + Joy winged the passing hour, + Till, ere we knew, + The setting day + Had clad the world + In silver grey. + +I kindly took my leave, + And blessed the happy lot +Of those I left behind + Lodged in their humble cot; + And pitied some + In palace walls, + Where pride torments, + And pleasure palls. + +The silver moon now shed + A flood of trembling light +On tower, and tree, and stream; + The twinkling stars shone bright, + Nor misty stain + Nor cloud was seen + O'er all the deep + Celestial green. + +Mild was the lovely night, + Nor stirred a whispering breeze. +Smooth was the glassy lake, + And still the leafy trees; + No sound in air + Was heard afloat, + Save Philomel's + Sweet warbling note. + +My thoughts were on the wing, + And back my fancy fled +To where contentment dwelt + In the neat humble shed; + To shining courts + From thence it ran, + Where restless pride + Oppresses man. + +In fame some search for bliss, + Some seek content in gain, +In search of happiness + Some give the slackened rein + To passions fierce, + And down the stream + Through giddy life, + Of pleasures dream. + +These all mistake the way, + As many more have done: +The narrow path of bliss + Through God's Eternal Son + Directly tends; + And only he + Who treads this path + Can happy be. + +Who anchors all above + Has still a happy lot, +Though doomed for life to dwell + E'en in a humble cot, + And when he lays + This covering down + He'll wear a bright + Immortal crown. + + + + +THE RAINBOW. + + +The shower is past, and the sky + O'erhead is both mild and serene, +Save where a few drops from on high, + Like gems, twinkle over the green: +And glowing fair, in the black north, + The rainbow o'erarches the cloud; +The sun in his glory comes forth, + And larks sweetly warble aloud. + +That dismally grim northern sky + Says God in His vengeance once frowned, +And opened His flood-gates on high, + Till obstinate sinners were drowned: +The lively bright south, and that bow, + Say all this dread vengeance is o'er; +These colours that smilingly glow + Say we shall be deluged no more. + +Ever blessed be those innocent days, + Ever sweet their remembrance to me; +When often, in silent amaze, + Enraptured, I'd gaze upon thee! +Whilst arching adown the black sky + Thy colours glowed on the green hill, +To catch thee as lightning I'd fly, + But aye you eluded my skill. + +From hill unto hill your gay scene + You shifted--whilst crying aloud, +I ran, till at length from the green, + You shifted, at once to the cloud! +So, vain worldly phantoms betray + The youths who too eager pursue, +When ruined and far led astray, + Th' illusion escapes from their view. + +Those peaceable days knew no care, + Except what arose from my play, +My favourite lambkin and hare, + And cabin I built o'er the way. +No cares did I say? Ah! I'm wrong: + Even childhood from cares is not free: +Far distant I see a grim throng + Shake horrible lances at me! + +One day--I remember it still-- + For pranks I had played on the clown +Who lived on the neighbouring hill, + My cabin was trod to the ground. +Who ever felt grief such as I + When crashed by this terrible blow? +Not Priam, the monarch of Troy, + When all his proud towers lay low. + +And grief upon grief was my lot: + Soon after, my lambkin was slain; +My hare, having strayed from its cot, + Was chased by the hounds o'er the plain. +What countless calamities teem + From memory's page on my view!-- +How trifling soever you seem, + Yet once I have wept over you. + +Then cease, foolish heart, to repine; + No stage is exempted from care: +If you would true happiness find, + Come follow! and I'll show you where. +But, first, let us take for our guide + The Word which Jehovah has penned; +By this the true path is descried + Which leads to a glorious end. + +How narrow this path to our view! + How steep an ascent lies before! +Whilst, foolish fond heart, laid for you + Are dazzling temptations all o'er. +What bye-ways with easy descent + Invite us through pleasures to stray! +Whilst Satan, with hellish intent, + Suggests that we ought to obey. + +But trust not the father of lies, + He tempts you with vanity's dream; +His pleasure, when touched, quickly dies, + Like bubbles that dance on the stream. +Look not on the wine when it glows + All ruddy, in vessels of gold; +At last it will sting your repose, + And death at the bottom unfold. {208} + +But lo! an unnatural night + Pours suddenly down on the eye; +The sun has withdrawn all his light, + And rolls a black globe o'er the sky! +And hark! what a cry rent the air! + Immortal the terrible sound!-- +The rocks split with honible tear, + And fearfully shakes all the ground! + +The dead from their slumbers awake, + And, leaving their mouldy domain, +Make poor guilty mortals to quake + As pallid they glide o'er the plain! +Sure, Nature's own God is oppressed, + And Nature in agony cries;-- +The sun in his mourning is dressed, + To tell the sad news through the skies! + +Yet surely some victory's gained, + Important, and novel, and great, +Since Death has his captives unchained, + And widely thrown open his gate! +Yes, victory great as a God + Could gain over hell, death, and sin, +This moment's achieved by the blood + Of Jesus, our crucified King. + +But all the dread conflict is o'er; + Lo! cloud after cloud rolls away; +And heaven, serene as before, + Breaks forth in the splendour of day! +And all the sweet landscape around, + Emerged from the ocean of night, +With groves, woods, and villages crowned, + Astonish and fill with delight! + +But see! where that crowd melts away, + Three crosses sad spectacles show! +Our Guide has not led us astray; + Heart! this is the secret you'd know-- +Two thieves, and a crucified God + Hangs awfully mangled between! +Whilst fast from His veins spouting blood + Runs, dyeing with purple the green! + +Behold! the red flood rolls along, + And forming a bason below, +Is termed in Emanuel's song + The fount for uncleanness and woe. +Immerged in that precious tide, + The soul quickly loses its stains, +Though deeper than crimson they're dyed, + And 'scapes from its sorrows and pains. + +This fountain is opened for you: + Go, wash, without money or price; +And instantly formed anew, + You'll lose all your woes in a trice. +Then cease, foolish heart, to repine, + No stage is exempted from care; +If you would true happiness find, + 'Tis on Calvary--seek for it there. + + + + +WINTER-NIGHT MEDITATIONS. + + +Rude winter's come, the sky's o'ercast, +The night is cold and loud the blast, +The mingling snow comes driving down, +Fast whitening o'er the flinty ground. +Severe their lots whose crazy sheds +Hang tottering o'er their trembling heads: +Whilst blows through walls and chinky door +The drifting snow across the floor, +Where blinking embers scarcely glow, +And rushlight only serves to show +What well may move the deepest sigh, +And force a tear from pity's eye. +You there may see a meagre pair, +Worn out with labour, grief, and care: +Whose naked babes, in hungry mood, +Complain of cold and cry for food; +Whilst tears bedew the mother's cheek, +And sighs the father's grief bespeak; +For fire or raiment, bed or board, +Their dreary shed cannot afford. + + Will no kind hand confer relief, +And wipe away the tear of grief? +A little boon it well might spare +Would kindle joy, dispel their care, +Abate the rigour of the night +And warm each heart--achievement bright. +Yea, brighter far than such as grace +The annals of a princely race, +Where kings bestow a large domain +But to receive as much again, +Or e'en corrupt the purest laws, +Or fan the breath of vain applause. + + Peace to the man who stoops his head +To enter the most wretched shed: +Who, with his condescending smiles, +Poor diffidence and awe beguiles: +Till all encouraged, soon disclose +The different causes of their woes-- +The moving tale dissolves his heart: +He liberally bestows a part +Of God's donation. From above +Approving Heaven, in smiles of love, +Looks on, and through the shining skies +The great Recording Angel flies +The doors of mercy to unfold, +And write the deed in lines of gold; +There, if a fruit of Faith's fair tree, +To shine throughout eternity, +In honour of that Sovereign dread, +Who had no place to lay His head, +Yet opened wide sweet Mercy's door +To all the desolate and poor, +Who, stung with guilt and hard oppressed, +Groaned to be with Him, and at rest. + + Now, pent within the city wall, +They throng to theatre and hall, +Where gesture, look, and words conspire, +To stain the mind, the passions fire; +Whence sin-polluted streams abound, +That whelm the country all around. +Ah! Modesty, should you be here, +Close up the eye and stop the ear; +Oppose your fan, nor peep beneath, +And blushing shun their tainted breath. + + Here every rake exerts his art +T' ensnare the unsuspecting heart. +The prostitute, with faithless smiles, +Remorseless plays her tricks and wiles. +Her gesture bold and ogling eye, +Obtrusive speech and pert reply, +And brazen front and stubborn tone, +Show all her native virtue's flown. +By her the thoughtless youth is ta'en, +Impoverished, disgraced, or slain: +Through her the marriage vows are broke, +And Hymen proves a galling yoke. +Diseases come, destruction's dealt, +Where'er her poisonous breath is felt; +Whilst she, poor wretch, dies in the flame +That runs through her polluted frame. + + Once she was gentle, fair, and kind, +To no seducing schemes inclined, +Would blush to hear a smutty tale, +Nor ever strolled o'er hill or dale, +But lived a sweet domestic maid, +To lend her aged parents aid-- +And oft they gazed and oft they smiled +On this their loved and only child: +They thought they might in her be blest, +And she would see them laid at rest. + + A blithesome youth of courtly mien +Oft called to see this rural queen: +His oily tongue and wily art +Soon gained Maria's yielding heart. +The aged pair, too, liked the youth, +And thought him naught but love and truth. +The village feast at length is come; +Maria by the youth's undone: +The youth is gone--so is her fame; +And with it all her sense of shame: +And now she practises the art +Which snared her unsuspecting heart; +And vice, with a progressive sway, +More hardened makes her every day. +Averse to good and prone to ill, +And dexterous in seducing skill; +To look, as if her eyes would melt: +T' affect a love she never felt; +To half suppress the rising sigh; +Mechanically to weep and cry; +To vow eternal truth, and then +To break her vow, and vow again; +Her ways are darkness, death, and hell: +Remorse and shame and passions fell, +And short-lived joy, with endless pain, +Pursues her in a gloomy train. + + O Britain fair, thou queen of isles! +Nor hostile arms nor hostile wiles +Could ever shake thy solid throne +But for thy sins. Thy sins alone +Can make thee stoop thy royal head, +And lay thee prostrate with the dead. +In vain colossal England mows, +With ponderous strength, the yielding foes; + In vain fair Scotia, by her side, +With courage flushed and Highland pride, +Whirls her keen blade with horrid whistle +And lops off heads like tops of thistle; +In vain brave Erin, famed afar, +The flaming thunderbolt of war, +Profuse of life, through blood does wade, +To lend her sister kingdom aid: +Our conquering thunders vainly roar +Terrific round the Gallic shore; +Profoundest statesmen vainly scheme-- +'Tis all a vain, delusive dream, +If treacherously within our breast +We foster sin, the deadly pest. + + Where Sin abounds Religion dies, +And Virtue seeks her native skies; +Chaste Conscience hides for very shame, +And Honour's but an empty name. +Then, like a flood, with fearful din, +A gloomy host comes pouring in. +First Bribery, with her golden shield, +Leads smooth Corruption o'er the field; +Dissension wild, with brandished spear, +And Anarchy bring up the rear: +Whilst Care and Sorrow, Grief and Pain +Run howling o'er the bloody plain. + +O Thou, whose power resistless fills +The boundless whole, avert those ills +We richly merit: purge away +The sins which on our vitals prey; +Protect, with Thine almighty shield +Our conquering arms by flood and field, +Wheel round the time when Peace shall smile +O'er Britain's highly-favoured Isle; +When all shall loud hosannas sing +To Thee, the great Eternal King! + + But hark! the bleak, loud whistling wind! +Its crushing blast recalls to mind +The dangers of the troubled deep; +Where, with a fierce and thundering sweep, +The winds in wild distraction rave, +And push along the mountain wave +With dreadful swell and hideous curl! +Whilst hung aloft in giddy whirl, +Or drop beneath the ocean's bed, +The leaky bark without a shred +Of rigging sweeps through dangers dread. +The flaring beacon points the way, +And fast the pumps loud clanking play: +It 'vails not--hark! with crashing shock +She's shivered 'gainst the solid rock, +Or by the fierce, incessant waves +Is beaten to a thousand staves; +Or bilging at her crazy side, +Admits the thundering hostile tide, +And down she sinks!--triumphant rave +The winds, and close her wat'ry grave! + + The merchant's care and toil are vain, +His hopes He buried in the main-- +In vain the mother's tearful eye +Looks for its sole remaining joy-- +In vain fair Susan walks the shore, +And sighs for him she'll see no more-- +For deep they lie in ocean's womb, +And fester in a wat'ry tomb. + + Now, from the frothy, thundering main, +My meditations seek the plain, +Where, with a swift fantastic flight, +They scour the regions of the night, +Free as the winds that wildly blow +O'er hill and dale the blinding snow, +Or, through the woods, their frolics play, +And whirling, sweep the dusty way, +When summer shines with burning glare, +And sportive breezes skim the air, +And Ocean's glassy breast is fanned +To softest curl by Zephyr bland. + + But Summer's gone, and Winter's here-- +With iron sceptre rules the year-- +Beneath this dark inclement sky +How many wanderers faint and die! +One, flouncing o'er the treacherous snow, +Sinks in the pit that yawns below! +Another numbed, with panting lift +Inhales the suffocating drift! +And creeping cold, with stiffening force, +Extends a third, a pallid corse! + + Thus death, in varied dreadful form, +Triumphant rides along the storm: +With shocking scenes assails the sight, +And makes more sad the dismal night! +How blest the man, whose lot is free +From such distress and misery; +Who, sitting by his blazing fire, +Is closely wrapt in warm attire; +Whose sparkling glasses blush with wine +Of mirthful might and flavour fine; +Whose house, compact and strong, defies +The rigour of the angry skies! +The ruffling winds may blow their last, +And snows come driving on the blast; +And frosts their icy morsels fling, +But all within is mild as spring! + +How blest is he!--blest did I say? +E'en sorrow here oft finds its way. +The senses numbed by frequent use, +Of criminal, absurd abuse +Of heaven's blessings, listless grow, +And life is but a dream of woe. + +Oft fostered on the lap of ease, +Grow racking pain and foul disease, +And nervous whims, a ghastly train, +Inflicting more than corp'ral pain: +Oft gold and shining pedigree +Prove only splendid misery. +The king who sits upon his throne, +And calls the kneeling world his own, +Has oft of cares a greater load +Than he who feels his iron rod. + +No state is free from care and pain +Where fiery passions get the rein, +Or soft indulgence, joined with ease, +Begets a thousand ills to tease: +Where fair Religion, heavenly maid, +Has slighted still her offered aid. +Her matchless power the will subdues, +And gives the judgment clearer views: +Denies no source of real pleasure, +And yields us blessings out of measure; +Our prospect brightens, proves our stay, +December turns to smiling May; +Conveys us to that peaceful shore, +By raging billows lashed no more, +Where endless happiness remains, +And one eternal summer reigns. + + + + +VERSES SENT TO A LADY ON HER +BIRTHDAY. + + +The joyous day illumes the sky +That bids each care and sorrow fly + To shades of endless night: +E'en frozen age, thawed in the fires +Of social mirth, feels young desires, + And tastes of fresh delight. + +In thoughtful mood your parents dear, +Whilst joy smiles through the starting tear, + Give approbation due. +As each drinks deep in mirthful wine +Your rosy health, and looks benign + Are sent to heaven for you. + +But let me whisper, lovely fair, +This joy may soon give place to care, + And sorrow cloud this day; +Full soon your eyes of sparkling blue, +And velvet lips of scarlet hue, + Discoloured, may decay. + +As bloody drops on virgin snows, +So vies the lily with the rose + Full on your dimpled cheek; +But ah! the worm in lazy coil +May soon prey on this putrid spoil, + Or leap in loathsome freak. + +Fond wooers come with flattering tale, +And load with sighs the passing gale, + And love-distracted rave: +But hark, fair maid! whate'er they say, +You're but a breathing mass of clay, + Fast ripening for the grave. + +Behold how thievish Time has been! +Full eighteen summers you have seen, + And yet they seem a day? +Whole years, collected in Time's glass, +In silent lapse how soon they pass, + And steal your life away! + +The flying hour none can arrest, +Nor yet recall one moment past, + And what more dread must seem +Is, that to-morrow's not your own-- +Then haste! and ere your life has flown + The subtle hours redeem. + +Attend with care to what I sing: +Know time is ever on the wing; + None can its flight detain; +Then, like a pilgrim passing by, +Take home this hint, as time does fly, + "All earthly things are vain." + +Let nothing here elate your breast, +Nor, for one moment, break your rest, + In heavenly wisdom grow: +Still keep your anchor fixed above, +Where Jesus reigns in boundless love, + And streams of pleasure flow. + +So shall your life glide smoothly by +Without a tear, without a sigh, + And purest joys will crown +Each birthday, as the year revolves, +Till this clay tenement dissolves, + And leaves the soul unbound. + +Then shall you land on Canaan's shore, +Where time and chance shall be no more, + And joy eternal reigns; +There, mixing with the seraphs bright, +And dressed in robes of heavenly light, + You'll raise angelic strains. + + + + +THE IRISH CABIN. + + +Should poverty, modest and clean, + E'er please, when presented to view, +Should cabin on brown heath, or green, + Disclose aught engaging to you, +Should Erin's wild harp soothe the ear + When touched by such fingers as mine, +Then kindly attentive draw near, + And candidly ponder each line. + +One day, when December's keen breath + Arrested the sweet running rill, +And Nature seemed frozen in death, + I thoughtfully strolled o'er the hill: +The mustering clouds wore a frown, + The mountains were covered with snow, +And Winter his mantle of brown + Had spread o'er the landscape below. + +Thick rattling the footsteps were heard + Of peasants far down in the vale; +From lakes, bogs, and marshes debarred, + The wild-fowl, aloft on the gale, +Loud gabbling and screaming were borne, + Whilst thundering guns hailed the day, +And hares sought the thicket forlorn, + Or, wounded, ran over the way. + +No music was heard in the grove, + The blackbird and linnet and thrush, +And goldfinch and sweet cooing dove, + Sat pensively mute in the bush: +The leaves that once wove a green shade + Lay withered in heaps on the ground: +Chill Winter through grove, wood, and glade + Spread sad desolation around. + +But now the keen north wind 'gan whistle, + And gusty, swept over the sky; +Each hair, frozen, stood like a bristle, + And night thickened fast on the eye. +In swift-wheeling eddies the snow + Fell, mingling and drifting amain, +And soon all distinction laid low, + As whitening it covered the plain. + +A light its pale ray faintly shot + (The snow-flakes its splendour had shorn), +It came from a neighbouring cot, + Some called it the Cabin of Mourne: {221} +A neat Irish Cabin, snow-proof, + Well thatched, had a good earthen floor, +One chimney in midst of the roof, + One window, and one latched door. + +Escaped from the pitiless storm, + I entered the humble retreat; +Compact was the building, and warm, + Its furniture simple and neat. +And now, gentle reader, approve + The ardour that glowed in each breast, +As kindly our cottagers strove + To cherish and welcome their guest. + +The dame nimbly rose from her wheel, + And brushed off the powdery snow: +Her daughter, forsaking the reel, + Ran briskly the cinders to blow: +The children, who sat on the hearth, + Leaped up without murmur or frown, +An oaken stool quickly brought forth, + And smilingly bade me sit down. + +Whilst grateful sensations of joy + O'er all my fond bosom were poured, +Resumed was each former employ, + And gay thrifty order restored: +The blaze flickered up to the crook, + The reel clicked again by the door, +The dame turned her wheel in the nook, + And frisked the sweet babes round the floor. + +Released from the toils of the barn, + His thrifty, blithe wife hailed the sire, +And hanging his flail by her yarn, + He drew up his stool to the fire; +Then smoothing his brow with his hand, + As if he would sweep away sorrow, +He says, "Let us keep God's command, + And never take thought for the morrow." + +Brisk turning him round with a smile, + And freedom unblended by art, +And affable manners and style, + Though simple, that reached to my heart, +He said (whilst with ardour he glowed), + "Kind sir, we are poor, yet we're blest: +We're all in the steep, narrow road + That leads to the city of rest. + +"'Tis true, I must toil all the day, + And oft suffer cold through the night, +Though silvered all over with grey, + And dimly declining my sight: +And sometimes our raiment and food + Are scanty--ah! scanty indeed: +But all work together for good, + So in my blest Bible I read. + +"I also have seen in that Book + (Perhaps you can tell me the place?) +How God on poor sinners does look + In pity, and gives them His grace-- +Yea, gives them His grace in vast store, + Sufficient to help them quite through, +Though troubles should whelm them all o'er; + And sure this sweet promise is true! + +"Yes, true as the snow blows without, + And winds whistle keen through the air, +His grace can remove every doubt, + And chase the black gloom of despair: +It often supports my weak mind, + And wipes the salt tear from my eye, +It tells me that Jesus is kind, + And died for such sinners as I. + +"I once rolled in wealth, without grace, + But happiness ne'er was my lot, +Till Christ freely pitied my case, + And now I am blest in a cot: +Well knowing things earthly are vain, + Their troubles ne'er puzzle my head; +Convinced that to die will be gain, + I look on the grave as my bed. + +"I look on the grave as my bed, + Where I'll sleep the swift hours away, +Till waked from their slumbers, the dead + Shall rise, never more to decay: +Then I, with my children and wife, + Shall get a bright palace above, +And endlessly clothed with life, + Shall dwell in the Eden of love. + +"Then know, gentle stranger, though poor, + We're cheerful, contented, and blest; +Though princes should pass by our door + King Jesus is ever our guest; +We feel, and we taste, and we see + The pleasures which flow from our Lord, +And fearless, and wealthy, and free, + We live on the joys of His word." + +He ceased: and a big tear of joy + Rolled glittering down to the ground; +Whilst all, having dropped their employ, + Were buried in silence profound; +A sweet, solemn pause long ensued-- + Each bosom o'erflowed with delight; +Then heavenly converse renewed, + Beguiled the dull season of night. + +We talked of the rough narrow way + That leads to the kingdom of rest; +On Pisgah we stood to survey + The King in His holiness dressed-- +Even Jesus, the crucified King, + Whose blood in rich crimson does flow, +Clean washing the crimson of sin, + And rinsing it whiter that snow. {225} + +But later and later it's wearing, + And supper they cheerfully bring, +The mealy potato and herring, + And water just fresh from the spring. +They press, and they smile: we sit down; + First praying the Father of Love +Our table with blessings to crown, + And feed us with bread from above. + +The wealthy and bloated may sneer, + And sicken o'er luxury's dishes, +And loathe the poor cottager's cheer, + And melt in the heat of their wishes: +But luxury's sons are unblest, + A prey to each giddy desire, +And hence, where they never know rest, + They sink in unquenchable fire. + +Not so, the poor cottager's lot, + Who travels the Zion-ward road, +He's blest in his neat little cot, + He's rich in the favour of God; +By faith he surmounts every wave + That rolls on this sea of distress: +Triumphant, he dives in the grave, + To rise on the ocean of bliss. + +Now supper is o'er and we raise + Our prayers to the Father of light +And joyfully hymning His praise, + We lovingly bid a good-night.-- +The ground's white, the sky's cloudless blue, + The breeze flutters keen through the air, +The stars twinkle bright on my view, + As I to my mansion repair. + +All peace, my dear cottage, be thine! + Nor think that I'll treat you with scorn; +Whoever reads verses of mine + Shall hear of the Cabin of Mourne; +And had I but musical strains, + Though humble and mean in your station +You should smile whilst the world remains, + The pride of the fair Irish Nation. + +In friendship, fair Erin, you glow; + Offended, you quickly forgive; +Your courage is known to each foe, + Yet foes on your bounty might live. +Some faults you, however, must own; + Dissensions, impetuous zeal, +And wild prodigality, grown + Too big for your income and weal. + +Ah! Erin, if you would be great, + And happy, and wealthy, and wise, +And trample your sorrows, elate, + Contend for our cottager's prize; +So error and vice shall decay, + And concord add bliss to renown, +And you shall gleam brighter than day, + The gem of the fair British Crown. + + + + +TO THE REV. J. GILPIN, ON HIS +IMPROVED EDITION OF THE "PILGRIM'S PROGRESS." + + +When, Reverend Sir, your good design, +To clothe our Pilgrim gravely fine, +And give him gentler mien and gait, +First reached my ear, his doubtful fate +With dread suspense my mind oppressed, +Awoke my fears, and broke my rest. +Yet, still, had England said, "You're free, +Choose whom you will," dear sir, to thee, +For dress beseeming modest worth, +I would have led our pilgrim forth. + + But when I viewed him o'er and o'er, +And scrutinized the weeds he wore, +And marked his mien and marked his gait, +And saw him trample sin, elate, +And heard him speak, though coarse and plain, +His mighty truths in nervous strain, +I could not gain my own consent +To your acknowledged good intent. + + I had my fears, lest honest John, +When he beheld his polished son +(If saints ought earthly care to know), +Would take him for some Bond Street beau, +Or for that thing--it wants a name-- +Devoid of truth, of sense and shame, +Which smooths its chin and licks its lip, +And mounts the pulpit with a skip, +Then turning round its pretty face, +To smite each fair one in the place, +Relaxes half to vacant smile, +And aims with trope and polished style, +And lisp affected, to pourtray +Its silly self in colours gay-- +Its fusty moral stuff t' unload, +And preach itself, and not its God. +Thus, wishing, doubting, trembling led, +I oped your book, your Pilgrim read. + + As rising Phoebus lights the skies, +And fading night before him flies, +Till darkness to his cave is hurled +And golden day has gilt the world, +Nor vapour, cloud, nor mist is seen +To sully all the pure serene: +So, as I read each modest line, +Increasing light began to shine, +My cloudy fears and doubts gave way, +Till all around shone Heaven's own day. + + And when I closed the book, thought I, +Should Bunyan leave his throne on high; +He'd own the kindness you have done +To Christian, his orphan son: +And smiling as once Eden smiled, +Would thus address his holy child:-- + + "My son, ere I removed from hence, +I spared nor labour nor expense +To gain for you the heavenly prize, +And teach you to make others wise. +But still, though inward worth was thine, +You lay a diamond in the mine: +You wanted outward polish bright +To show your pure intrinsic light. +Some knew your worth, and seized the prize, +And now are throned in the skies: +Whilst others swilled with folly's wine, +But trod the pearl like the swine, +In ignorance sunk in their grave, +And thence, where burning oceans lave. +Now polished bright, your native flame +And inward worth are still the same; +A flaming diamond still you glow, +In brighter hues: then cheery go-- +More suited by a skilful hand +To do your father's high command: +Fit ornament for sage or clown, +Or beggar's rags, or kingly crown. + + + + +THE COTTAGE MAID. + + +Aloft on the brow of a mountain, +And hard by a clear running fountain, + In neat little cot, + Content with her lot, +Retired, there lives a sweet maiden. + +Her father is dead, and her brother-- +And now she alone with her mother + Will spin on her wheel, + And sew, knit, and reel, +And cheerfully work for their living. + +To gossip she never will roam, +She loves, and she stays at, her home, + Unless when a neighbour + In sickness does labour, +Then, kindly, she pays her a visit. + +With Bible she stands by her bed, +And when some blest passage is read, + In prayer and in praises + Her sweet voice she raises +To Him who for sinners once died. + +Well versed in her Bible is she, +Her language is artless and free, + Imparting pure joy, + That never can cloy, +And smoothing the pillow of death. + +To novels and plays not inclined, +Nor aught that can sully her mind; + Temptations may shower,-- + Unmoved as a tower, +She quenches the fiery arrows. + +She dresses as plain as the lily +That modestly glows in the valley, + And never will go + To play, dance or show-- +She calls them the engines of Satan. + +With tears in her eyes she oft says, +"Away with your dances and plays! + The ills that perplex + The half of our sex +Are owing to you, Satan's engines." + +Released from her daily employment, +Intent upon solid enjoyment, + Her time she won't idle, + But reads in her Bible, +And books that divinely enlighten. + +Whilst others at wake, dance, and play +Chide life's restless moments away, + And ruin their souls-- + In pleasure she rolls, +The foretaste of heavenly joys. + +Her soul is refined by her Lord, +She shines in the truths of His Word: + Each Christian grace + Shines full in her face, +And heightens the glow of her charms. + +One day as I passed o'er the mountain, +She sung by a clear crystal fountain + (Nor knew I was near); + Her notes charmed my ear, +As thus she melodiously chanted: + +"Oh! when shall we see our dear Jesus? +His presence from poverty frees us,-- + And bright from His face + The rays of His grace +Beam, purging transgression for ever. + +"Oh! when shall we see our dear Jesus? +His presence from sorrow will ease us, + When up to the sky + With angels we fly-- +Then farewell all sorrow for ever! + +"Come quickly! come quickly, Lord Jesus! +Thy presence alone can appease us; + For aye on Thy breast + Believers shall rest, +Where blest they shall praise Thee for ever." + +Oh, had you but seen this sweet maiden! +She smiled like the flowers of Eden, + And raised to the skies + Her fond beaming eyes, +And sighed to be with her Redeemer + +While thus she stood heavenly musing, +And sometimes her Bible perusing, + Came over the way, + All silvered with grey, +A crippled and aged poor woman. + +Her visage was sallow and thin, +Through her rags peeped her sunburnt skin; + With sorrow oppressed, + She held to her breast +An infant, all pallid with hunger. + +Half breathless by climbing the mountain, +She tremblingly stood by the fountain, + And begged that our maid + Would lend her some aid, +And pity both her and her infant. + +Our maiden had nought but her earning-- +Her heart with soft pity was yearning; + She drooped like a lily + Bedewed in the valley, +Whilst tears fell in pearly showers. + +With air unaffected and winning, +To cover them, of her own spinning + Her apron of blue, + Though handsome and new, +She gave, and led them to her cottage. + +All peace, my dear maiden, be thine: +Your manners and looks are divine; + On earth you shall rest, + In heaven be blest, +And shine like an angel for ever. + +More blest than the king on the throne +Is he who shall call you his own! + The ruby, with you + Compared, fades to blue-- +Its price is but dust on the balance. {233a} + +Religion makes beauty enchanting, +And even where beauty is wanting, + The temper and mind, + Religion-refined, +Will shine through the veil with sweet lustre. + + + + +THE SPIDER AND THE FLY. + + +The sun shines bright, the morning's fair, +The gossamers {233b}float on the air, +The dew-gems twinkle in the glare, + The spider's loom +Is closely plied, with artful care, + Even in my room. + +See how she moves in zigzag line, +And draws along her silken twine, +Too soft for touch, for sight too fine, + Nicely cementing: +And makes her polished drapery shine, + The edge indenting. + +Her silken ware is gaily spread, +And now she weaves herself a bed, +Where, hiding all but just her head, + She watching lies +For moths or gnats, entangled spread, + Or buzzing flies. + +You cunning pest! why, forward, dare +So near to lay your bloody snare! +But you to kingly courts repair + With fell design, +And spread with kindred courtiers there + Entangling twine. {234} + +Ah, silly fly! will you advance? +I see you in the sunbeam dance: +Attracted by the silken glance + In that dread loom; +Or blindly led, by fatal chance, + To meet your doom. + +Ah! think not, 'tis the velvet flue +Of hare, or rabbit, tempts your view; +Or silken threads of dazzling hue, + To ease your wing, +The foaming savage, couched for you, + Is on the spring. + +Entangled! freed!--and yet again +You touch! 'tis o'er--that plaintive strain, +That mournful buzz, that struggle vain, + Proclaim your doom: +Up to the murderous den you're ta'en, + Your bloody tomb! + +So thoughtless youths will trifling play +With dangers on their giddy way, +Or madly err in open day + Through passions fell, +And fall, though warned oft, a prey + To death and hell! + +But hark! the fluttering leafy trees +Proclaim the gently swelling breeze, +Whilst through my window, by degrees, + Its breathings play: +The spider's web, all tattered flees, + Like thought, away. + +Thus worldlings lean on broken props, +And idly weave their cobweb-hopes, +And hang o'er hell by spider's ropes, + Whilst sins enthral; +Affliction blows--their joy elopes-- + And down they fall! {235} + + + + +EPISTLE TO A YOUNG CLERGYMAN. + + +"Study to show thyself approved unto God, a workman that needeth not to +be ashamed, rightly dividing the word of truth."--2 TIMOTHY ii. 15. + +My youthful brother, oft I long +To write to you in prose or song; +With no pretence to judgment strong, + But warm affection-- +May truest friendship rivet long + Our close connection! + +With deference, what I impart +Receive with humble grateful heart, +Nor proudly from my counsel start, + I only lend it-- +A friend ne'er aims a poisoned dart-- + He wounds, to mend it. + +A graduate you've just been made, +And lately passed the Mitred Head; +I trust, by the Blest Spirit, led, + And Shepherd's care: +And not a wolf, in sheepskin clad, + As numbers are. + +The greatest office you sustain +For love of souls, and not of gain: +Through your neglect should one be slain, + The Scriptures say, +Your careless hands his blood will stain, + On the Last Day. + +But if pure truths, like virgin snows, +You loud proclaim, to friends and foes, +Consoling these, deterring those-- + To heaven you'll fly; +Though stubborn sinners still oppose, + And graceless die. {237a} + +Divide the word of truth aright, +Show Jesus in a saving light, +Proclaim to all they're dead outright + Till Grace restore them: {237b} +The great Redeemer, full in sight, + Keep still before them. + +Dare not, like some, to mince the matter-- +Nor dazzling tropes and figures scatter, +Nor coarsely speak nor basely flatter, + Nor grovelling go: +But let plain truths, as Life's pure water, + Pellucid flow. + +The sinner level with the dead, +The Lamb exalt, the Church's Head, +His holiness, adoring spread, + With godly zeal: +Enforce, though sinless, how He bled + For sinners' weal. + +Pourtray how God in thunder spoke +His fiery Law, whilst curling smoke, +In terror fierce, from Sinai broke, + Midst raging flame! +Then Jesu's milder blood invoke, + And preach His name. + +Remember still to fear the Lord, +To live, as well as preach, His word, +And wield the Gospel's two-edged sword, + Though dangers lower-- +Example only can afford + To precept power. + +And dress nor slovenly nor gay, +Nor sternly act; nor trifling play; +Still keep the golden middle way + Whate'er betide you; +And ne'er through giddy pleasures stray, + Though fools deride you. + +As wily serpent ever prove, +Yet harmless as the turtle-dove, +Still winning souls by guileful love + And deep invention-- +So once the great Apostle strove + With good intention. {238} + +And inly to thyself take heed, +Oft prove your heart, its pages read,-- +Self-knowledge will, in time of need, + Your wants supply; +Who knows himself, from dangers freed, + Where'er he lie. + +So God will own the labours done, +Approving see His honoured Son, +And honoured Law; and numbers won + Of souls immortal, +Through grace, will onward conquering run + To heaven's bright portal. + +And on that last and greatest day, +When heaven and earth shall pass away, +A perfect band, in bright array, + Will form your crown, +Your joys triumphant wide display, + And sorrows drown. + +And now farewell, my youthful friend-- +Excuse these lines, in candour penned; +To me as freely counsel lend, + With zeal as fervent-- +For you will pray, till life does end, + Your humble servant. + + + + +EPISTLE TO THE LABOURING POOR. + + +All you who turn the sturdy soil, +Or ply the loom with daily toil, +And lowly on through life turmoil + For scanty fare, +Attend, and gather richest spoil + To soothe your care. + +I write with tender, feeling heart-- +Then kindly read what I impart; +'Tis freely penned, devoid of art, + In homely style, +'Tis meant to ward off Satan's dart, + And show his guile. + +I write to ope your sin-closed eyes, +And make you great, and rich, and wise, +And give you peace when trials rise, + And sorrows gloom; +I write to fit you for the skies + On Day of Doom. + +What, though you dwell in lowly cot, +And share through life a humble lot? +Some thousands wealth and fame have got, + Yet know no rest: +They build, pull down, and scheme and plot, + And die unblest. + +Your mean attire and scanty fare +Are, doubtless, springs of bitter care-- +Expose you blushing, trembling, bare, + To haughty scorn; +Yet murmur not in black despair, + Nor weep forlorn. + +You see that lordling glittering ride +In all the pomp of wealth and pride, +With lady lolling at his side, + And train attendant: +'Tis all, when felt and fairly tried, + But care resplendent. + +As riches grow his wants increase, +His passions burn and gnaw his peace, +Ambition foams like raging seas + And breaks the rein, +Excess produces pale disease + And racking pain. + +Compared with him thrice happy you; +Though small your stock your wants are few-- +Each wild desire your toils subdue, + And sweeten rest, +Remove all fancied ills from view, + And calm your breast. + +Your labours give the coarsest food +A relish sweet and cleanse the blood, +Make cheerful health in spring-tide flood + Incessant boil, +And seldom restless thoughts obtrude + On daily toil. + +Those relish least who proudly own +Rich groves and parks familiar grown; +The gazing stranger passing on + Enjoys them most-- +The toy possessed--the pleasure's flown, + For ever lost. + +Then grateful let each murmur die, +And joyous wipe the tearful eye: +Erect a palace in the sky-- + Be rich in grace: +Loathe this vain world, and longing sigh + For Jesu's face. + +Both rich and poor, who serve not God, +But live in sin, averse to good, +Rejecting Christ's atoning blood, + Midst hellish shoals, +Shall welter in that fiery flood, + Which hissing rolls. + +But all who worship God aright, +In Christ His Son and image bright, +With minds illumed by Gospel light, + Shall find the way +That leads to bliss, and take their flight + To heavenly day. + +There rich and poor, and high and low, +Nor sin, nor pain, nor sorrow know: +There Christ with one eternal glow + Gives life and light-- +There streams of pleasure ever flow, + And pure delight. + +Christ says to all with sin oppressed, +"Come here, and taste of heavenly rest, +Receive Me as your friendly guest + Into your cots; +In Me you shall be rich and blest, + Though mean your lots. + +"Behold My hands, My feet, My side, +All crimsoned with the bloody tide! +For you I wept, and bled, and died, + And rose again: +And throned at My Father's side, + Now plead amain! + +"Repent, and enter Mercy's door, +And though you dwell in cots obscure, +All guilty, ragged, hungry, poor, + I give in love +A crown of gold, and pardon sure, + To each above." + +Then hear the kind, inviting voice-- +Believing in the Lord rejoice; +Your souls will hymn the happy choice + To God on high, +Whilst joyful angels swell the noise + Throughout the sky. + +A fond farewell!--each cottage friend, +To Jesu's love I would commend +Your souls and bodies to the end + Of life's rough way; +Then (death subdued) may you ascend + To endless day! + + + + +THE COTTAGER'S HYMN. + + +I. + +My food is but spare, + And humble my cot, +Yet Jesus dwells there + And blesses my lot: +Though thinly I'm clad, + And tempests oft roll, +He's raiment, and bread, + And drink to my soul. + +II. + +His presence is wealth, + His grace is a treasure, +His promise is health + And joy out of measure. +His word is my rest, + His spirit my guide: +In Him I am blest + Whatever betide. + +III. + +Since Jesus is mine, + Adieu to all sorrow; +I ne'er shall repine, + Nor think of to-morrow: +The lily so fair, + And raven so black, +He nurses with care, + Then how shall I lack? + +IV. + +Each promise is sure, + That shines in His word, +And tells me, though poor, + I'm rich in my Lord. +Hence! Sorrow and Fear! + Since Jesus is nigh, +I'll dry up each tear + And stifle each sigh. + +V. + +Though prince, duke, or lord, + Ne'er enter my shed, +King Jesus my board + With dainties does spread. +Since He is my guest, + For joy I shall sing, +And ever be blest + In Jesus my King. + +VI. + +With horrible din + Afflictions may swell,-- +They cleanse me from sin, + They save me from hell: +They're all but the rod + Of Jesus, in love; +They lead me to God + And blessings above. + +VII. + +Through sickness and pain + I flee to my Lord, +Sweet comfort to gain, + And health from His word; +Bleak scarcities raise + A keener desire, +To feed on His grace, + And wear His attire. + +VIII. + +The trials which frown, + Applied by His blood, +But plait me a crown, + And work for my good. +In praise I shall tell, + When throned in my rest, +The things which befell + Were always the best. + +IX. + +Whatever is hid + Shall burst on my sight +When hence I have fled + To glorious light. +Should chastisements lower, + Then let me resign; +Should kindnesses shower, + Let gratitude shine. + +X. + +Hence! Sorrow and Fear! + Since Jesus is nigh, +I'll dry up each tear, + And stifle each sigh: +And clothed in His word + Will conquer my foes, +And follow my Lord + Wherever He goes. + +XI. + +My friends! let us fly + To Jesus our King; +And still as we hie, + Of grace let us sing. +Through pleasure and pain, + If faithful we prove, +For cots we shall gain + A palace above. + +FINIS. + +TURNBULL AND SPEARS, PRINTERS, EDINBURGH. + + + + +Footnotes: + + +{208} Proverbs xxiii. 31, 32. + +{221} Mourne consists chiefly of a range of high mountains in +the north of Ireland. + +{225} Isaiah i. 18. + +{233a} Proverbs xxxi. 10. + +{233b} Gossamers are the fine down of plants or the slender threads +of insects, which are frequently seen to glide through the sunny +atmosphere. + +{234} Proverbs xxx. 28. + +{235} Job viii. 13, 14. + +{237a} Ezek. xxxiii. 8, 9. + +{237b} Ephes. ii. 1-8. + +{238} St Paul, 2 Cor. xii. 16. + + + +***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK COTTAGE POEMS*** + + +******* This file should be named 17081.txt or 17081.zip ******* + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/7/0/8/17081 + + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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