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diff --git a/35287-8.txt b/35287-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..8e25190 --- /dev/null +++ b/35287-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,6981 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Awd Isaac, The Steeple Chase, and other +Poems, by John Castillo + +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: Awd Isaac, The Steeple Chase, and other Poems + With a glossary of the Yorkshire Dialect + +Author: John Castillo + +Release Date: February 14, 2011 [EBook #35287] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK AWD ISAAC, AND OTHER POEMS *** + + + + +Produced by Brownfox and the Online Distributed Proofreading +Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from +images generously made available by The Internet Archive) + + + + + + + + + +TRANSCRIBERS' NOTES + +Dialect has been retained. Printer's errors and corrections are +described at the end of the text. Underscores have been used to +mark _italic text_. + +Note that there is an index to the poems at the end of the text. + + + + +AWD ISAAC, + +THE STEEPLE CHASE, + +AND OTHER + +POEMS; + +WITH A GLOSSARY OF THE + +YORKSHIRE DIALECT: + +BY JOHN CASTILLO. + +WHITBY: +PUBLISHED BY HORNE & RICHARDSON. + +1843. + + + + +PREFACE. + + +The Author of the following Poems prefixes a "Preface" to them, lest he +should seem to be wanting in respect to his readers, did he not comply +with a custom which is universal. In doing so, however, he would eschew +two kinds of Preface, viz: that in which the author arrogates to himself +the merit of having produced a work entirely _new_, both in subject, and +in manner of expression, and on that score claims the plaudits of his +friends and the public;--and that in which the author professes to feel +himself inadequate to the task of composing a book, but at the pressing +solicitation of his friends, with great distrust of his abilities for +such a work, he yields to their entreaties, and pleads his inability in +mitigation of the critic's wrath. With respect to the former, the writer +of the present volume professes not to offer to his readers any thing +_new_, either as to matter, or to language; and as to the latter, the +following pieces were most of them composed several years ago, at +distant intervals of time, and were frequently perused by his friends +long before he had thoughts of publishing them:--the character of his +poetry is therefore pretty well known to those who are likely to become +purchasers of his book; and it would be but a bungling apology did he +attempt to shelter its defects under the plea of inability for his task. + +It will be unnecessary to say much of the subjects sung of in the +following poems. Though they are various, the author hopes they will all +be found to contain a moral, which, if acted upon in common life, would +direct the conduct to a beneficial end. Many of them are founded on +facts which occurred in the writer's neighbourhood, and which he has +endeavoured to turn to a useful purpose. Others are of an experimental +cast, and are the breathings of the poet's heart when inflamed by Love +Divine! It has been his constant aim to exhibit the workings of grace in +the heart, its effects on the life, and the glorious futurity to which +it conducts its possessor. For this purpose, he has seized on a variety +of incidents known to many of his friends, which have furnished him with +matter on which to graft a spiritual thought. Life in its spring tide, +or when ebbing in death, home with its simple yet hallowed joys, a +religious assembly rapt in devotion and love, a landscape endeared by +the associations of youth or of kindred, a dilapidated church, a +withering flower, a text of scripture--have supplied him with +topics;--and he trusts that the doctrines which he has inculcated in +connection with them will always be found to agree with the Word of God. + +Of the "Dialect" in which some of the pieces are composed, the author +deems it necessary to say a few words. It is well known that every +county in England has its peculiarities of expression and pronunciation. +These peculiarities, though often unintelligible to persons brought up +at a distance, are yet the native language of the common inhabitants; +and there is, in their estimation, a point and power in them, which are +not to be found in more polished periods. The author has availed himself +of the dialect of his native county to convey to a particular class of +persons some important truths, which may, perhaps, be more welcomely +received because clad in that garb. There may, indeed, appear to +delicate ears, a rudeness approaching to barbarism, in the dialect which +he has employed; but what is wanting in polish, will, in the estimation +of those for whom he writes, be more than compensated by force and +vigour. Truth is truth--however humble the habiliments in which it is +dressed: nor does it come with less power to the heart because conveyed +in language with which those for whom it was intended are familiar. +Indeed, there is in that very _familiarity_ something which arrests the +attention and affects the heart. Of the correctness of this view, the +author has many times seen proof, in the interest with which some of the +pieces in the dialect have been listened to, by persons whose education +being limited they could not perhaps have appreciated the beauties of +polished verse, but were at once arrested and delighted when the artless +tale was narrated in their mother tongue. To make this part of the work +as complete as possible, great care has been used to render the +orthography correct: published specimens of the Dialect have been +consulted, as well as living authorities, and no pains have been spared +that could contribute to make it complete both to the eye and to the +ear. A difference of orthography may occasionally appear, caused by the +necessity of making a rhyme;--excepting a few rare instances of this +kind, a standard has been adopted which has not been departed from. For +the assistance of those who are unacquainted with the dialect of the +North Riding of Yorkshire, a copious glossary is appended to the work, +by reference to which the meaning of any unknown term or phrase will at +once be seen. + +The author prays that the blessing of God may accompany his work! + + + + +AWD ISAAC. + +(PART FIRST.) + + + Yah neeght as Ah went heeame fra' wark, + A lahtle bit afoore 'twur dark, + Quite blithe an' cheerful as a lark, + Ah thowght me-sel; + Ah sat me doon, te rist a bit, + At top o't' hill. + + Fooaks just wur turnin oot ther ky;-- + A lahtle plain awd man com by;-- + "Cum set ye doon, gud frind," sez I, + "An' rist yer legs;" + He'd beean a bit o' floor te buy, + An' twea'r three eggs. + + Ah fand him varry fain te stop;-- + His staff he set up as a prop;-- + His hooary heead he lifted up, + An' thus compleean'd:-- + (Sum fragments ov a gud like feeace, + Ther still remeean'd.) + + "Yoo see," sez he, "mah deear young frind, + Mah travel's ommost at an end; + Wi' age mah back begins te bend, + An' white's mah hair; + Ov this warld's griefs, yoo may depend, + Ah'v hed mah share." + + His teeal tho' simple, it wur grand, + An' varry gud te understand,-- + His stick steead up aboon his hand, + T'awd fashion'd way; + His cooat an' hat wur wether tann'd, + A duffil gray. + + "Ah think," sez Ah, "'at Scriptur sez, + Gray hairs is honorable dress, + If they be fund i'reeghteousness, + By faith obtain'd; + An' think, by what yer leeaks express, + That praaze yoo've gain'd. + + Wi' age it izzen't gud te jooak, + An'ts ommost ower warm te woak, + Sit doon, an' hev a bit o' tawk, + O' things 'at's past; + Awd men like yoo, hez seeaf beeath heeard + An' seen a vast." + + "A vast Ah hev beeath heeard an' seen, + An' felt misfotten's arrows keen, + As yoo remark, whahl Ah hev beean + On this life's stage; + It's sike a varry changin scene, + Fra' yooth te age. + + Hoo great, an' yet hoo feeble's man, + His life at langest's bud a span;" + His history be thus began, + Wi' teears te tell; + An' if yer ears be owght like maane, + 'Twill pleease ye weel. + + "Lang sin' Ah lost mah wife," sez he, + "Which wur a heavy cross te me; + An' then mah sun teeak off tot' sea, + A fine young man, + An' Ah neea mare his feeace mun see, + It's ten te yan. + + Ah happen'd te be off yah day, + A kind ov sweetheart, as they say, + Com in an' teeak mah lass away, + Wi' hoosin stuff; + An' noo, poor thing, she's deead, they say, + A lang way off. + + It's noo neen yeear, an' gaain i'ten, + Sin' Ah at t'bark wood joined sum men, + 'Twur theer Ah fell an' leeam'd me-sen, + I' spite o' care; + Ah wur foorc'd te gie up theer an' then, + An' woark ne mare. + + Bud t'neeaburs hez beean varry gud, + Or else lang sin' Ah'd stuck i't' mud, + An' seea throo them an' t'help o' God, + Ah gits mah breead; + An' whooap they'll be rewarded for't, + When Ah's law leead. + + Bud seein all mah cumforts gooan, + Ah didden't knaw what way te ton, + Then Ah began te sigh an' mooan, + Beeath neeght an' day; + Ah bowght a Baable, an' began + Te reead an' pray. + + An' as Ah reead, an' as Ah preea'd, + Ah thowght it thunner'd ower mah heead, + An' offens Ah' wur sadly flay'd + Wi' dismal noises, + Sumtaames i' bed Ah thowght Ah heeard + Some ungkerd voices. + + A preeacher chanc'd te cum this way, + Ah'v cause te ivver bless the day, + Kind Providence leead me that way + This man te heear; + Ah, like a sheep, had geean astray + For monny a yeear. + + He sed 'twur t'luv o' Christ cumpell'd him, + Bud seean as ivver Ah beeheld him, + Ah thowght 'at sum kind frind hed tell'd him + All mah heart; + For ivv'ry word, like arrows pointed, + Meead it smart. + + Ah thowght, till then, 'at Ah wur reeght, + Bud he set mah sins all i'mah seeght, + At last Ah fell doon at his feet + Wi' solid grief; + Ah thowght Ah sud ha' deead afoore + Ah fund relief. + + Ah reeally thowght, if yoo'll beleeave me, + 'At hell wur oppen te receeave me, + Sum sed the Lord wad seean releeave me, + He wur mah keeper; + Bud all they sed did nowght but greeave me, + An' cut me deeper. + + Ah dreeaded th' Almighty's froon, + An' wander'd greeatin up an' doon, + Nowther i't' coontry nor i't' toon + Neea rist Ah fand; + Mah sins, like stars, did me surroon', + Or heeaps o' sand. + + Then varry seean t'repoort wur rais'd, + An' all roond t'village it wur blaz'd, + Awd Isaac, he wur gangin craz'd + An' nowght seea seer; + Mah cottage then for days an' days + Neea sowl com near. + + At thowghts ov ivverlastin pains, + An' bein bund iv endless chains, + Mah bleead, like ice, ran thruff mah veins + Wi' shivrin dreead; + Ah cudden't sleep, an' Ah forgat + Te eat mah breead. + + At last this gud man com ageean, + For which mah heart wur glad an' fain, + Just like a thorsty land for rain, + Ah sat quite neear him; + Whahl ivv'ry organ ov mah sowl, + Wur bent te heear him. + + Bud seean as Ah his sarmon heeard, + A still small voice mah sperits cheear'd, + An' Ah, that varry neeght wur meeade, + A happy man; + Te praaze the Lord wi' all mah heart, + Ah then began. + + Ah knew He hed mah sins forgeean, + Whahl Ah hed in His prisance beean, + An' that His bleead cud wesh me cleean, + An' white as snaw, + An' mack me fit wi' Him te reen + Whahl heer belaw. + + Sin' then, i' all mah conflicts heer, + Ah flees te Him wi' faith an' preear, + An' He, in marsey, lends an eear. + Thruff his deear Son; + An' this is t'way, wi' whooap an' feear, + Ah travels on. + + Oft, when Ah thus draws neear te Him, + He macks mah een wi' teears te swim, + Then fills mah heart quite up te t' brim + Wi' t'luv o' God; + An' when Ah gets mare faith i' Him, + Ah hods mah hod. + + Sumtaames Ah'v hed yon beck te swim, + An' monny a time this hill te clim, + Wi' heavy heart an' weeary lim' + An' sweeaty broo; + Bud all 'at ah can trist Him in, + He helps me throo. + + In all the straits ov life, sez he, + Hooivver bare mah cubburt be, + Wi' broon breead crust, an' woormwood tea, + Or even gall, + Whereivver Ah finnds Christ te be, + He sweet'ns all. + + Mah neeaburs all, Ah deearly luv 'em, + An' oft Ah's foorc'd for t'repruv 'em + Te seek the Lord Ah tries te muv 'em, + Wi' heart sincere, + Bud t'answers oft 'at Ah gets frev em, + 'S quite severe. + + Ah'v oft felt sorry te me-sel, + Beeath greeav'd an' sham'd the truth te tell, + When Ah hev heeard oor awd kirk bell + Ring in te preear; + Ah's flay'd 'at sum 'll hear't i' hell + Upbreead 'em theer. + + They'll sit or lig upon ther deead, + An' tawk aboot all kinds o' treead, + An' laff, an' lee, quite undismay'd, + Till they've rung in; + Sike fooaks te t' warld thay're owther wed, + Or neear akin. + + Sum sez ther priest's a stumlin block, + He nivver leeads 'em on te t' rock, + Like thooase 'at mends a threead-bare frock + Wi' a new piece, + He cares bud lahtle for his flock, + If he gets t'fleece. + + Bud oors, he is a Christian breeght, + He preeaches Christ wiv all his meeght, + Fills each beleeaver wiv deleeght, + 'At gangs te heear him; + An' therefoore ov his people's bleead + The truth 'll clear him. + + Ah'v heeard him tell 'em pat an' plain, + 'At they mun all be boorn again, + Or suffer ivverlastin pain, + I' t'warld te cum; + Bud if they'll flee te Christ i' time, + For all ther's rum. + + I'th' pulpit or i' conversation, + He's awlus on for t'sowl's salvation, + Wi' kind reproof or exhoortation. + Or coonsel sweet; + An' thooase 'at follows his persuasion, + They'll be reeght. + + Ther's sum 'at sez, bud they're misteean, + When they're babtized they're boorne ageean; + Just heer they miss t' fundation steean, + An' beelds o't' sand; + An' they've neea dreead, till t'hoose is doon + Bud it 'll stand. + + Ah's flay'd," sez he, "ift' truth wur knawn, + Ther's monny a precious soul o'erthrawn, + For that gud seed 'at he hez sawn + Wi'oot effect; + Bud bleeam for ivver is ther awn, + Thruff sad neglect. + + Ah'v seen yoong men, an' women too, + An' men wi' hair all off ther broo, + Afoore he's reead his lesson throo, + 'S beean fast asleep; + Whahl others 'at far better knew + 'S beean seen te weep. + + They'll rock an' riggle like a ship, + Till sum kind frind gies them a nip, + Or wakken'd up wi' t'saxton's whip, + Or others' coughing; + Then, mebby, when they've rubb'd their een, + They'll start a laffin. + + Sum's liv'd te three or fower skoor, + An' lang time heer's had rulin pow'r, + They've woorn deep tracks across 'at moor, + Wi' constant gangin; + Bud still, all t'whahl, for this warld's loore, + Ther heearts wur langin. + + Thersels they've nivver fairly seen, + They've nivver knawn ther sins forgeean, + Tho' monny a time ther prayers hev beean + As lood as t'clark; + And thof they've hed twea pair of een, + They've deed i't' dark. + + Ther's sum 'at neeame o' Christian beears, + An's hed that neeame for monny yeears, + 'At's berreed ow'r t'heead an' t'eears, + I' warldly care; + An' oft at kirk, we've cause te feear, + They market theer. + + Ah wur at a sarten hoose yah day, + An' t'awd man tiv his son did say, + If all be weel, thoo mun away, + Te moorn te t' kirk, + An' try te git oor wreeghts next week, + Te cum te woark. + + An' Tommy, he's i' sike a tackin, + 'At cooat 'll spoil for want o' mackin, + If t' tailor's theer, thoo mun be at him, + Te cum an' all; + That's weel contrav'd, an' then yah thrang, + 'Ll deea for all. + + Thoo needn't stop te gang roond t' farm, + Bud mun be theer i' reeght gud taame, + Or mebby, if thoo dizzen't maand, + Thoo'll loss thy chance; + Ther's sumtaames three or fower at him, + All at yance. + + It's ower far te gang a-feeat, + An' if 't be warm thoo's seer te sweeat, + Thee Moother, she'll deea nowght bud freeat, + Seea tak awd Dragon; + An' tell him he mun cum next week. + An' mend oor waggon. + + Then if ye chance i't' coorse o't' weeak, + O't' Sunday's subject for te speeak, + You'll finnd awd memory seea weeak, + It's all forgitten; + Thus wounded sowls 'at's beean hawf heeal'd + T'awd sarpent's bitten. + + That skull 'at's moolded green an' gray, + T'awd saxton dug up t'other day, + Knaws varry neear as mitch as thay + O't' Sunday's sarmon; + Yoo may as weel o't' subject tawk + Te sum awd Jarman. + + That poor awd man's noo deead an' geean, + Tis hard te say what way he's teean, + 'At used te stand ageean t'funt steean, + Te tack fooaks watches; + Whahl careless lads i't' singin pew + Wur cuttin natches. + + An' seea for want o' cultivation, + They shuffle on withoot salvation, + A vast, Ah's flay'd, 's o' this perswasion, + Beeath yoong an' awd; + Te be forgeean they ha' neea nooation, + Till deead an' cawd. + + Bud they'll finnd oot afoore't be lang, + 'At they've all t' taame beean sadly wrang, + Ther wills may then be ower strang, + Te breeak or bend; + An' noo they say they're ower thrang, + They can't attend. + + I' summer taame they'll leeave t'awd nest, + An' driss up i' ther varry best, + An' gallop off alang wi' t'rest, + Te t' fair or reeaces; + A vast gits what they nivver kest + At sike like pleeaces. + + Ther's sum gets theer wi' wooden legs on, + An' monny poor awd men wi' wigs on, + Just sarvs t'yoong fooaks te run ther rigs on, + A fine example, + Whahl doon i't' dust ther poor awd lims + Sumtaames they trample. + + Ther's sum can nowther sit nor lig, + Aboot t'election they're seea big, + They say they're Britons, rump an' rig, + Bud whea can trist 'em, + When, frev a Toory tiv a Whig, + A glass 'll twist 'em? + + Ther's others rayther shoat o' seeght, + Fort' seeak o' twea'r three sovrens breeght, + Gies in ther vooat, an' thinks it reeght, + Te t' Roman stranger; + Then others pleeaster up i't' street, + "_The Church in danger!_" + + An' seea they yan prevent another, + Wi' drinking, politics, an' bother, + Thof t' best ov all can't seeave his bruther, + Nor ransom him; + That spark 'at's left they try te smuther, + Wi' stratigem. + + As for thooase Methodeys, they say, + They mack seea varry mitch te deea, + Ther's sum wad deea nowght else bud pray + An' reead, an' preeach, + Till they git all meead Methodeys, + Within ther reeach. + + Bud ther wur neean o' this amaze, + I' neean ov oor foore elder's days, + Thof ther gud deeds an' honest prayers, + An' pious reeadins, + Hez beean, neea doot, as gud as theers, + Wiv all ther meetins. + + Te see 'em doon o' beeath ther knees, + I' kirk, or field, or under trees, + Wi' brokken hearts an' teearful ees, + Wur quite uncommon; + An' if they hevn't deed i' t' faith, + Then what's cum'd on 'em. + + Te preeach 'em all geean doon te hell, + It is a dreeadful teeal te tell, + An' we mun wiv oor kindred dwell, + Seea we, like them, + Will on life's ooacean tak oor chance, + An' sink or swim. + + They mack sike wark amang yoong fooaks, + They breeak up all oor jovial spooarts, + They thin oor ranks, an' storm oor pooarts + Wi' strange confusion; + Ther's nowght bud we mun cry't all doon, + A mere delusion. + + Bud us 'at seldum hev attended, + They deeant git us seea eeasy mended, + An awd stiff yack 's nut eeasy bended, + That's varry true; + Bud thooase 'at winnut bend yoo see, + Mun breeak i' noo. + + They trifle on fra' yeear te yeear, + Like watches woorn oot ov repair, + Thof if they wad, its varry cleear, + They mud be mended; + Bud they perceeave neea danger neear, + Till life is ended. + + Awd Satan seea pollutes the maund, + They winnut stooap te t' means desaun'd. + Till t' hair spring gits wi't mainspring twain'd, + An seea hard curl'd, + They're foorc'd away te git refined + I' t'other warld. + + He leeads sum on like mountebanks, + As straight as thof they ran on planks, + An' tells 'em, i' ther jovial pranks, + He'll nut deceeave 'em;-- + Then oft on Jordan's stormy banks, + Ther cumforts leeave 'em. + + He leeads sum on another way, + An' whispers tiv 'em neeght an' day, + 'At they need nowther reead nor pray, + They've deean nowght wrang; + An' if they hev, he'll set it reeght, + Afoore 't be lang, + + Ther's others oft beean in alarm, + Bud Felix like, when t'heart wur warm, + Hez sed, "Go, an' sum other taame, + Ah'll send for thee;" + When they that taame, they didden't knaw + Mud ivver see. + + They rob thersels o' ther awn reeght, + They reeally winnut cum te t' leeght, + Lest o' ther sins they git a seeght, + An' sud be seeav'd; + An' be ov all ther plissures sweet, + At yance bereeav'd. + + Till deep sunk doon i' t' burning leeake + They then begin te feear an' queeake, + Where vengeance can neea pity teeake, + Which theer hez sent 'em, + An' furious feeinds i' horrid sheeape, + Mun theer torment 'em. + + They leeak for sum yan te deliver, + Bud theer they'll finnd neea cumfort nivver, + Theer they may weeap an' wail for ivver, + Ther harvest's past; + Ther summer's ended, refuge fails 'em, + An' they're lost. + + Ther dreeadful doom an' destiny, + Let us git all we can te flee, + By preeachin Christ where'er we be, + I' deead an' word, + Till all oor frinds ther folly see, + An' ton te God. + + "Ah beean i' t' way noo seeaven yeear," + An' as he spak, a briny teear + Ran doon his cheeks as crystal cleear, + Fra' owther ee; + "Thenk God, Ah feeal whahl Ah sit heer, + 'Tis weel wi' me. + + Bud neeght is cummin on ameean, + An't leeaks as if 'twur boon te reean, + Or else mah stoory's nut hawf deean, + 'At Ah'v te tell; + Bud mebby we may meeat ageean, + Till then, farewell!" + + Tho' he hed all thooase sorrows booarn, + Compozur in each feeature shooan, + Thof he'd te woark and live alooan, + Fra' day te day; + Ah wish'd his keease hed been mah awn, + An' com away. + + + + +AWD ISAAC. + +(PART SECOND.) + +TO WHICH IS ADDED, + +HIS DYING ADVICE. + + + Oft hev Ah lang'd yon hill te clim, + Te hev a bit mare prooase wi' him, + Wheas coonsel like a pleeasin dreeam, + Is deear te me; + Sin' roond the warld sike men as he + Seea few ther be. + + Corrupted bukes he did detest, + For his wur ov the varry best; + This meead him wiser than the rest + O' t' neeaburs roond, + Tho' poor i' t' purse, wi' senses blest, + An' judgment soond. + + Befoore the silvery neeght ov age, + The precepts ov the sacred page, + His meditation did engage, + That race te run; + Like thooase, who 'spite o' Satan's rage, + The praaze hed won. + + Bud noo his een's geean dim i' deeath, + Neea mare a pilgrim here on eearth, + His sowl flits fra' her shell beneeath, + Te reealms o' day, + Whoor carpin care, an' pain, an' deeath, + Are deean away. + + Wi'oot the author's neeame or leeave, + They'd put his stoory thruff the sieve, + An' roond his circuit set the screeve + O' justice keen, + Fra' crotchet cramp, or semibreeve, + Te sift him cleean. + + The charge 'at they ageenst him bring,-- + He harps teea mitch upon yah string, + Or triumphs like a lahtle king, + Ow'r fashions gay; + He's ower religious!--That's the thing + They meean te say. + + Yet still Awd Isaac tells his teeal, + Ower monny a weeary hill an' deeal, + An' 'll sumtaames into cities steeal, + Nor silent be; + Till infants try te lisp his theeame + Across the sea. + + Oor last, an' lasting interview, + His wonted theeame he did renew, + Fra' which, a paraphrase he drew, + An' thus began, + I' conversation clear, an' frindship true, + Like man te man. + + "Ah lahtle thowght, as weel thoo knaws, + Thoo te t' public wad expooase, + Mah awd gray cooat, wi' all its flaws, + An' stick an' all, + For want o' which, the aged prood + Seea offens fall. + + Ah varry leeatly gat a hint, + They'd put oor stoory into prent, + An' copies roond the coontry sent + Beeath left and reeght; + Bud if 'twur deean wi' gud intent, + Gud luck gang wi' 't. + + Noo all Ah sed wur meeant for gud, + If it wur reeghtly understud; + Te sum neea doot, t'language wud + Seeam quite abrupt;-- + We're all alike, ov flesh and bleead, + An' hearts corrupt. + + Fooaks oft leeaks mare at bleead an' breedin, + Than at t'subject they are reeadin, + An' thus awd prejudice is feedin, + I' system's narrow, + For want o' pains te crack the beean + Th'oft miss t'marrow. + + Men still i' spite ov all oor caution, + 'Ll hanker efter heeigh promotion; + Like Evan's Pills, or Rowland's Lotion + Saain'd by t'King; + We're seea inclin'd te self-devotion-- + That's the thing.! + + T' Naation still seeams discontent, + Ther's strange debeeates i' parliament, + Petitions on petitions sent + Theer, all implorin; + An' sum i' dungeons deep lament + Whahl they're snoorin. + + Still ower t'land t'clood hangs dull, + An' we may thrust, an' they may pull; + Wi' "Eys an' Nooas" the paper's full, + Wi' applause an' laughter: + An' all the gud for poor John Bull + 'S te cum hereafter. + + Still let us calmly wait the end, + On God, an' nut on man, depend. + Oor Nation's woond is bad te mend, + Ommost incurable! + His Israel he will still defend, + Wi' kindness durable. + + Bud numbers streeangely hev backslidden, + An' deean thooase things 'at wur forbidden, + An' caused His feeace for te be hidden, + By actions fowl, + Till scarce a ray ov whooap is left + Te cheer the sowl. + + T'coonsel Ah wad recommend + Is all te strave ther lives te mend, + An' persevere unto the end + I' word an' deed. + An' thooase 'll nivver want a Frind + I' t' taame o' need. + + Bud Ah mun cut mah stoory shoort, + Or it may mack the critics spoort, + Oor subject's ov too greeave a soort + Te dwell upon. + Afoore ye spreead yer next repoort, + Ah sal be geean. + + For sin' we met an' pearted last, + Ah finnd mah strenth decreeasing fast, + Like floor's beneeath the Nowthern blast, + Yance fresh an' gay, + Seea man is doom'd te droop an' waste, + An' fade away. + + Ah wad befoore Ah tack mah leave, + Te all, mah deein coonsel give, + An' if i' the truth they deea beleeave + Or apprehend, + That truth, whahl Ah'v a day te live + _Ah will defend_." + + + + +HIS DYING ADVICE. + + + When Eden's floory garden smiled, + Nor Eve the Sarpent hed beguil'd, + Man stood upreeght an' undefiled + I' maand an' feeature, + An' sweetest conversation held + Wi' his Creator. + + Bud when that awful monster sin + Hed gain'd its ugly entrance in + The warld, oor sorrows did begin; + Then Heaven froond, + An' t' glitt'ring swoord o' Justice gleeam'd + On all aroond. + + Sin spreead destruction wide, an' seean + Grim deeath began his feearful reign;-- + Satan wi' lees an' malice keen + Went teea an' fraw, + The frail, the noble sons o' men + Te owerthraw. + + Bud the Almighty sent his aid, + Enoch an' Abraham obey'd, + An' Noah, Job, an' Daniel pray'd, + An' Gideon too; + An' mighty fooas throo mighty faith + They did subdue. + + Then ancient Israel's altar's blazed, + An' solemn congregations gazed, + An' Holy men ther voices raaized, + An' trumpets soonded. + Then heathen armies stood amazed, + An' wur confoonded. + + Then Joshua congker'd i' the vale, + An' gud Elijah did prevail;-- + The wicked worshippers o' Baal + He owerthrew, + An' showed te them the living God + An' only true. + + An' while the sacrifice was pure, + Destruction com nut neegh ther door; + I' moont or tent they wur secure + By neeght or day; + Whahl thraving groups o' flocks an' herds, + Aroond 'em lay. + + They towght an' showed ther childer hoo + Ther Fathers kept ther solemn voo, + When the Almighty leead 'em throo + The desert land; + An' hoo thooase fell 'at wad nut boo + Te His command. + + An' seea sud we oor childer teeach, + An' i' ther ears gud doctrine preeach, + Befoore corrupt ideas reeach + The tender maand; + An' when they up te manhood graw, + The gud they'll finnd. + + Ey, tell 'em whea the sarpent stung, + Hoo Moses an' hoo Deborah sung, + An' hoo the Holy Hebrews yoong + Did walk throo fire; + An' try te tune ther infant tongues + Te David's lyre. + + Remind 'em ov a Saviour's love, + Leearn 'em the way God will approve, + Te pray, an' fix ther thowghts above + Eearth's fleeting joys, + Which at ther best, when tried 'll proov, + Bud empty toys. + + Consult the worthies ov' each age, + Wheas lives are doon i't' sacred page, + Nor rest till all the heart engage + Like them i' feight. + Then we like them oor hostile fooas, + Sal put te flight. + + Te us they as examples stand, + As guide-poosts in a weeary land, + Or like seea monny beeacons grand, + On mountains heeigh, + Te shoo the way Jehovah's plann'd; + Or deeanger neeigh. + + Bud men graw noo seea warldly wise, + Seea prooan te vanity an' lies, + T'best o' coonsel they'll despise, + Seea queer they live, + They'll scarce a proper question ax, + Or answer give. + + Mankind i' gen'ral can espy, + The mooat 'at's in anoother's eye, + An' big an' busy as Paul Pry, + 'Ll mark it doon;-- + It helps fra' silly passers by + Te hide ther awn. + + Theer's numbers seeams o' t' better soort, + Aroond oor chapels still resoort, + An' o' convarsion mack a spoort, + An' sins forgeean, + An' at the truly pious shoot, + Ther arrows keen. + + Bud the Almighty sees ther ways, + An' thof he lenthens oot ther days, + An' his just rath he noo delays, + 'Tis seer te cum; + The stootest o' the human race, + Mun meet ther doom. + + Ey, when ther jolly days are spent, + If they i' taame deea nut repent, + They'll seerly doon te hell be sent + Te revell theer, + Te curse, an' fooam, an' pay ther rint + I' black despair. + + Freeat nut thysel when thoo doast see + The wicked i' prosperity, + Te floorish like a green bay tree, + Or cedar tall; + He like a leeaf, by firm decree, + Mun feeade an' fall! + + Consider thoo what hez beean sed, + An' o' ther threeats be nut afraaid, + Beware lest thoo sud be betray'd + By ther deceit;-- + An' t'Lord gie thee, an' nut upbreead, + His Sperit's leeght!" + + The coontry's all anxiety, + Te knaw Awd Isaac's pedigree, + An' sum cry oot 'tis all a lee, + A meead up thing;-- + Te sike we think it nut woth whahl, + Oor proofs te bring. + + For all that wish te knaw--may read, + The sum an' substance ov his creed;-- + May catch, an' saw the lahtle seed + Wi' greeat success. + Bud whoor he liv'd, or whoor he deed, + 'Tis left te guess. + + + + +DIALOGUE ON A STEEPLE CHASE + +AT P******NG, IN YORKSHIRE. + + +_Joe._--Weel Jim, hoo deea lad? What's t' news? + Which side is thoo on? Pinks or Blues? + Heer's sike a mighty stir i' t' nation, + 'Tis woth a lahtle conversation. + Ah want te knaw, is't reeght or wrang;-- + Unless thah nerves is varry strang, + Ah hev a paper i' mah pocket, + 'Ll lift thah heart oot ov its socket! + +_Jim._--A paper Joe! What is 't aboot, + Sum munney matter, ther's neea doot! + Sum Methodey or Ranter bother, + Or sum Tee-total thing or other. + Yan scarce can pass alang a street, + Bud sum sike like yan's seer te meet, + Whea'd ommost sweear 'at black is white, + Te gain anoother proselyte, + +_Joe._--A munney matter 'tis o' coorse, + Fra' quite an opposition soorce, + For by the Liverpool Recorder, + 'Tis mare o' the Succession order: + For it is sed by snug repoort, + Religious fooaks hev geen 't support. + That which we noo te nooatice bring, + Ist' Steeple Chase at P******ng. + +_Jim._--Whah Joe, thoo's neean o' t' warst o' fellows, + Cum sit thee doon a piece an' tell us, + If thoo sud think it neea disgrace, + Aboot this mighty Steeple Chase; + Ov hoo, an' when, an' whoor they run, + For honour, munney, or for fun. + Thoo's just geen me an itchin eear, + Aboot the thing Ah wish'd te heear. + +_Joe._--Thoo sees upon a sarten day, + Ah hennut seen, but heeard 'em say; + Greeat gentlemen hev hosses treean'd, + Fra' lofty pedigree obteean'd, + Seea full o' bleead, an' queerly towght, + Te gallop thruff or ower owght: + All muster at a sarten pleeace, + An' this they call the Steeple Chase. + A purse o' Gold they then present, + An' word is thruff the coontry sent, + For fower mahle, Ah think they run, + An' he 'at beeats,--the steeaks his awn. + Sum breeaks ther necks, wi' missin bridges, + An' sum gits stuck, wi' jumpin hedges. + Ey, te confarm t' truth Ah sing, + They kill'd a hoss at P******ng. + +_Jim._--Wha Joe, thoo quite supprises me, + Te think 'at men ov heeigh degree, + Sud reeally hev neea mare respect + For owther men's or hosses necks. + +_Joe._--A boss is nowght i' sike a keease! + Bairn! sowls is nowght at t' Steeple Chase! + They for a trifle swap an' sell 'em, + An' t' parsons hezzen't sense te tell 'em. + T' Steeple Chase is suted quite, + Te glut t' carnal appetite. + Thooase whea ther Baable love, an' preear, + 'Ll finnd bud bareish picking theer. + +_Jim._--Maund Joe, thoo izzen't ower severe, + An' 'at thah coonsel be sincere. + The Law hez monny curious links, + Man mooan't speeak awlus as he thinks. + Thof Ah me-sel feel shock'd te think, + Men sud seea rush on ruin's brink: + Mitch mare te be encouraged in, + What mun be a presumptuous sin. + +_Joe._--The mare Ah see this standard reeas'd, + The mare an' mare Ah stand ameeaz'd + Te think 'at parsons cannut see't, + An' tell 'em pleean it izzen't reeght! + 'At men sike tidings sud procleeam, + An' thooase 'at beear t'Christian neeame + I' spite ov all divine advice, + Te sanction sike a sweepin vice. + +_Jim._--Whativver be t'satisfaction, + It hez a woonderful attraction; + An' macks 'em freely use ther shanks, + 'Specially them o' t' heeigher ranks, + Fra' Scarbro', Malton, York, an' Leeds, + They cum on lofty mounted steeds, + Ower dazzlin ommost te behold, + Wi' silver'd whips, an' cheeans o' gold. + Theer's bands o' music, colours flying, + Hams, an' legs o' mutton frying, + Nimble waiters on the wing, + Te see 'em drink, an' hear 'em sing, + Ther's gamlin teeables, orange stalls, + Ther's spices, nuts, an' dancin dolls. + All things te sute the carnal taste, + May just be foond at t' Steeple Chase. + +_Joe._--Thooase men hes gitten 't i' ther power + Regardless o' the sufferin poor, + Te gallop ower hedge an' dyke, + An' deea an' say, just what they like. + An' all the while they run these rigs, + An' sing, an' drink, an' dance ther jigs, + They'll booast o' noble ancestry, + An' mighty steeple pedigree! + If onny wish the cause te knaw, + Whah they are able te deea seea,-- + "'Tis munney macks the meer te gang, + Macks wrang seeam reeght, an' reeght seeam wrang." + +_Jim._--The thing sud be te them meead knawn, + Ther gold an' silver's nut ther awn. + Ther cattle they abuse an' kill, + Belangs to t'Lord o' Zion's hill. + They sud be warn'd i' ivvery pleeace, + Te gie up sike like wicked ways. + Or seer as theer's a God aboon, + They'll pull ther awn destruction doon. + +_Joe._--They hev been warn'd an' hev refus'd, + Whahl thooase gud things they hev abus'd; + By which abuse they breeak God's Law, + An' that he'll sum day let 'em knaw. + This maks 'em breeathe pernicious breeath, + An' swagger on the verge o' deeath, + Whahl oothers--rayther than control, + 'Ll breeak ther necks, an' loss ther sowl. + +_Jim._--A man tell'd me by way o' jooak, + Bud kind o' trimmel'd as he spooak, + They'd Doctors pleeaced wi'in a shoot, + Te slip necks in, 'at gat slipt oot.[A] + +_Joe._--It's awful booastin this indeed,-- + Bad sample o' beeath fruit an' seed. + Sike may upbraad the warld wi' sizm, + It is next deer te Socialism. + Sike booastin they will sum day rue, + If we admit the Baable true. + All thooase mun pass a mighty change, + Afoore the happy hills they range!-- + Bud tiv oor teeal let us ton back, + Lest we get farther fra' oor track. + The day arrives, the smiling sun, + Procleeams the Steeple Chase begun. + On eeager eears the tumult steeals, + Ov prancin steeds, an' rumblin wheels. + It wur a day ov winks an' nods, + Ov lofty deeds, an' lofty wods. + As thof they hed for ther defence! + The thunner ov Omnipotence! + T' fooaks com rowlin in by skoors, + Fra' neeab'rin toons, an' off o' t' moors. + Like cloods ov locusts in they hale, + Fra' Goadland, Sleights, an' Harwood Dale. + 'Tis seerly sum enchanted string, + That does sike croods tegither bring. + Like bees, they roond the steeple swarm, + In it they likely see neea harm. + +_Jim._--Neea harm! What harm, Joe, can there be, + I' seeing sike a rarity:-- + Ov men an' hosses heeighly fed, + Wi' priests an' squires at ther head; + Ov gentlemen, an' ladies gay, + As bonny as the floors i' May. + Theer riches, yooth, an' beauty shine, + Array'd i' silk, an' superfine. + An' farmers' maidens, yoong an' fair, + We wonder hoo they've taame te spare; + Wi' lads ov manners rough an' rude, + All mixing i' yah multitude. + An' poor awd men, 'at scarce can blaw, + Wi' beards an' whiskers white as snaw; + Sad sample ov oor fallen race, + All rollin up to t' Steeple Chase. + An' farmers' sarvants leeave ther pleugh, + Callin ther maister black an' blue, + Whea for ther credit an' ther neeame, + Hed coonsel'd them te stay at heeame. + Ah met 'em as Ah com alang, + (They wonder'd whah Ah waddn't gang,) + Wi' roosy cheeks, an' shoothers brooad, + Bettin weagers up o' t' rooad. + Ther leeaks an' words at yance declare, + Ther treasure an' ther hearts are theer. + If yah contrary sentence drop, + That mooth they quickly try te stop. + When roond the splendid stand they meet, + 'Twad deea a blinnd man gud te see't; + Besaads the men's seea faanly drist! + The Steeple Chase,--whah whea wad miss't? + +_Joe._--Fra' furst te last it is desaun'd, + Te pleease an' fascinate the maand; + Te lift it, as on eagle's wings, + An' draave off thowghts o' better things. + The stewards full o' wardly wit, + Pronoonce 'at all things noo are fit, + When thoosands then roll up te see, + As drawn by Steeple witchery. + Fra' whence they cum, or whoor they dwell, + If yoo've a paper it 'll tell. + Ye ken the horses whea's they are, + By t' colours 'at ther riders wear. + Thus whether i' the rooad or noa, + Wi' whip an' spur away they goa; + Ower hedge an' dyke,--there's nowght can stop 'em, + Unless an angry God unprop em. + Thus riding ower grass, or coorn + 'Ats growin,--or 'ats leeatly sown, + There's neean dare lift a hand, or say, + What hev ye deean, or whea's te pay, + Whahl oaths profane, an' lafter lood, + Are utter'd by the gaping crood;-- + By some whea yance religion luv'd, + Not only sanction'd, bud appruv'd! + If ivv'ry ward an' secret thowght, + Mun be yan day te judgment browght, + Oh, how unlike sike wark as this, + Is that which leads te glorious bliss! + Te see 'em thus seea blithe an' merry, + Wur famous pastaame for Awd Harry. + If owght te him cud be delighting, + 'Twad be to see 'em drunk an' feighting. + He popt aboot amang t' people, + At last he popt up on to't steeple, + Open'd a pair ov dismal jaws, + Flapt his black wings, an' yawn'd applause: + Like sum prood Emperor ov awd, + Upon the wether cock he rode, + 'Whoor he mud all at yance survey, + The grand proceedings ov the day. + A flagstaff for a whip he seized, + An' spurr'd the spire he wur seea pleeased, + Te think it sud his cause defend, + An' that his bait hed answer'd t'end. + +_Jim._--Tis not for thee te criticise, + On men seea greeat, seea rich, seea wise, + They aim, neea doot, as weel as thee, + Te gang te heeaven when they dee. + What thof ther munney be bud lent, + Thoo knaws 'at munney mun be spent. + Besaads they hev example too,-- + If t' _parson's_ theer--What's that te thoo? + +_Joe._--If thooase sud miss ther passage heeame, + A careless priesthood they may bleeame. + Blinnd guides they are, an' t'Kirk's ther moother, + An' they wean't gang te hear neea other. + We Christians run a diff'rent race, + Te what we call the Steeple Chase. + Besaads we finnd i' Holy writ, + Ther's neean cums theer 'at are nut fit. + +_Jim._--Thoo meeans te proove by argument, + Thooase 'at cums theer mun first repent, + An' be throo Jesus Christ forgiven, + Afoore they're i' the rooad te heaven. + Neea carnal plissure they mun share, + Bud live a life ov faith an' prayer. + If thooase alone hev saving grace, + Doon gangs at yance the Steeple Chase. + +_Joe._--Seea legions fell fra' leeght te dark, + Seea Dagon fell afoore the ark, + Seea God prood Pharaoh owerthrew, + Wi' Sisera, an' Goliath too. + Seea fell the lords i' sad supprise, + Wheas hands hed put out Samson's eyes. + Thooase mighty men wur turn'd te dust, + An' seean the Steeple Chasers must. + +_Jim._--Whah, Joe, it caps me fair te ken, + Hoo thooase heeigh flying gentlemen, + Can fra' ther chasing gang te t' kirk, + An' join i't' blessed Sunday's wooark, + Singing wi' all ther might an' main, + This heaven inspir'd, this holy strain, + "Let all thy converse be sincere, + "Thy conscience as the noon-day clear, + "For God's all seeing eye surveys + "Thy secret thoughts, thy works and ways;"-- + An' then fra' t' kirk te t' Steeple Chase, + An' set at nowght God's luv an' grace, + Call t'dissenters, an' shoot thruff t'nation, + For "_Apostolical succession_!" + +_Joe._--Te bring oor converse te a close, + Oor only aim is te expose, + The thing Almighty God doth hate,-- + Nut te provoke unkind debate. + The day's nut far 'at will reveal + The truth, an' fix the final seal. + Sum may when its teea late te rue, } + Finnd what they hoped wur false--is _true_ } + Consarning everlasting woe! } + +FOOTNOTES: + +[A] It was a saying of one of the Riders, that he carried two or three +loose necks in his pocket, in case anything happened to his own. + + + + +THE LUCKY DREEAM, OR AN AWD THING RENEWED. + + + Yah Kesenmas neeght, or then aboot, + When meeasons all wur frozen oot, + Ah went te see a coontry frind, + An hospitable hoor te spend. + For gains Ah cut across at moor, + Whoor t'snaw seea furiously did stour:-- + The hoose Ah geean'd, an' enter'd in, + An' wor as welcome as a king. + The stoorm ageean t'winder patter'd, + An' hailsteeans doon t'chimler clatter'd, + All hands wur in, an' seeam'd content, + An' neean did frost or snaw lament. + T'lasses all wur at ther sowing, + Ther cheeks wi' health an' beauty glowing. + Aroond the heearth in cheerful chat + Twea'r three frindly neeaburs sat; + Ther travels telling,--whoor they'd been, + An' what they hed beeath heeard an' seen; + Till yan us all did mitch amuse, + An' thus a stoory introduce. + "Ah recollect lang sin," sez he, + "A stoory that wur tell'd te me, + 'At seeams seea straange i' this oor day, + That true or false Ah cannut say. + A man liv'd in this neybourheead, + Neea doot ov reputation gud, + An' lang taame strave w' stiddy care, + Te keep his hooshod i' repair. + At length he hed a curious dreeam, + For three neeghts runnin 'twur the seeam; + 'At if on Lunnon Brigg he stood, + He'd heear sum news wad deea him gud. + He labour'd hard, beeath neeght an' day, + Tryin te draave thooase thowghts away, + Yet daily grew mare discontent, + Till he at last te Lunnon went! + Being quite a stranger te that toon, + Lang taame he wander'd up an' doon, + Till led by sum mysterious hand, + On Lunnon Brigg he teeak his stand; + An' theer he waited day by day, + An' just wur boon te cum away, + Seea mitch he thowght he wur te bleeam, + Te gang seea far aboot a dreeam, + When thus a man, as he drew neear, + Did say, "Good friend, what seek you here, + Where I have seen you soon and late?" + His dreeam te him he did relate. + "Dreams," sez the man, "are empty things, + Mere thoughts that flit on silver'd wings; + Unheeded we should let them pass:-- + I've had a dream, and thus it was, + That somewhere round this peopled ball, + There's such a place as Lealholm Hall; + Yet whether such a place there be, + Or not, is all unknown to me. + There in a cellar, dark and deep, + Where slimy creatures nightly creep, + And human footsteps never tread, + There is a store of treasure hid. + If it be so, I have no doubt, + Some lucky wight will find it out: + Yet so or not, is nought to me, + For I shall ne'er go there to see!" + The man did slyly twice or thrice, + The cockney thenk for his advice, + Then heeame ageean wi'oot delay, + He cheerfully did tak his way, + An' set aboot the wark, an' sped, + Fund ivv'ry thing, as t' man hed sed, + Wur ivver efter seen te floorish, + T'finest gentleman i' all the parish. + Fooaks wonder'd sare, an' weel they meeght, + Whoor he gat all his ginnes breeght! + If it wur true, in spite ov feeame, + Te him it wor a lucky dreeam. + + + + +A STRANGE EFFUSION, + +OR + +WESLEYANISM AT EASBY, + +IN THE STOKESLEY CIRCUIT: + + _Written when the Methodists were deprived of the place of + worship in which they had been accustomed to meet._ + + + They're wakken'd at Easby, the Lord is amang 'em, + Thof turn'd oot o' t' temple 'at used te belang 'em, + Anoother we whooap afoore lang 'll be beelt, + Whoor sinners thruff Christ may hev pardon for guilt. + T' Lord seems te oppen a way out afoore 'em, + Thof neybourin lions hev aim'd te devoor 'em. + When t'awd maister mariner fail'd at the helm, + They thowght it wad all the consarn owerwhelm; + An' when they appear'd ov all succour bereft, + They endeeavour'd te freeghten t' few 'at wur left. + Bud the Lord wur detarmin'd te be ther protection, + Te send 'em suppoort, an' gie 'em direction; + If nobbut, like monny, they wadden't betray him, + Bud stick te that text, beeath te luv an' obey him. + They can't be content wi' ther steeple opinions, + Bud they mun mack inrooads on others' dominions; + Thof theers be in gen'ral the fat an' the wealthy, + For t'want of gud physic, they seldom are healthy. + Hoo strange 'at they sud sike fair temples erect, + Te murder the sowls in--they're swoorn te protect! + Bud stranger they'll finnd it o' yon side the fleead, + Wi' ther hands an' ther garments all stain'd i' ther bleead! + We needn't te wonder they mack sike a fuss, + Ther craft is i' danger fra' rebels like us:-- + For God can mack preeachers--hoo feearful the thowght-- + Fra' cobblers, or meeasons, or blacksmiths, or owght! + O yes! Dr. Pusey may whet his awd grinders, + An' put on his captives ther fetters an' blinders; + Ther's poor men iv Easby 'at ken his awd sang, + An' see the defect ov beeath him an' his gang. + He may scare 'em wi' taxes, wi' rates, an' oppression, + All thooase whea are oot o' the line o' succession, + Thof te prove 'at _he's_ in't, he's a varry poor chance, + Unless he unite wi' the Romans at yance. + Then t' Romans wad help him, an' think it all reeght, + Te murder Dissenters, an' put oot ther leeght; + Te cut 'em i' pieces, te butcher an' bon 'em, + Bud till that's the keease they cannut owerton 'em! + Nur Stowsley, nur Yatton, ther frinds will invite, + Nur Skelton, nur Brotton, ther efforts unite; + They'll finnd te ther mortification an' pain, + They hev fowght wi' t' wind, an' hev labour'd i' vain! + + + + +LEALHOLM BRIDGE. + +A SOLILOQUY DURING A VISIT, AFTER SOME YEARS' ABSENCE. + + + Ah, lovely Lealholm! Where shall I begin, + To say what thou art now, and once hast been? + Once the dear seat of all my earthly joys, + That now, in recollection only, rise! + Methinks, where'er I look no life appears, + But all the place a cheerless aspect wears; + Thy groves are desolate, thy swains are fled, + And many of them number'd with the dead; + Religion 's cold, the poor are sore oppress'd, + Thy orphans weep, and widows are distress'd. + O let us pray their griefs may shortly end, + And God, their Father, still may prove their friend. + This ancient Bridge some faint idea brings, + Where still the swallow comes and dips her wings; + The murmuring river, and the rumbling mill, + Bear some resemblance to poor Lealholm still; + Yon silent whirlpool beautifies the scene, + Where shades of trees are in its deepness seen, + Where leaping fishes on the surface play, + And gladly seems to close, the summer's day; + The broken waters from yon glen resound, + Their constant rippling 's heard the village round; + Yon burden'd iron pinion loudly shrieks, + While tears of oil hang on his rusty cheeks; + The greedy race, the water still supplies, + The lofty wheel's broad shelves successive rise; + The thund'ring engine doth her hands employ, + And Hunter's place is fill'd by William Joy; + The floating bubble swims upon the wave, + While Ord[B] lies mould'ring in the silent grave; + Behind yon hill the sun escapes from sight, + And yields his empire to the shades of night. + Alas! Poor Lealholm once in glory shone, + But now, she like a widow, sits alone! + Once from yon town the people flock'd like bees, + To taste the sweetness of the country breeze; + Pedestrians joyful, here and there were seen, + While shays and whiskeys deck'd her level green; + The banks of Esk, were crowded all along, + Either with Anglers, or with lookers on. + The full "Moon,"[C] then did through her valleys shine, + So bright, some thought she never would decline; + Year after year she in her sphere did move, + And all seem'd animation, life, and love: + But now, in mists and gloom she disappears, + Eclips'd--her light no longer Lealholm cheers! + Pluck'd from her orb, her borrow'd lustre's fled, + And in the silent tomb, she rests her head. + In distant lands my father's lot was cast, + And we were left to feel the bitter blast. + Death's fatal hand its victim did arrest, + And tore him from the darlings of his breast. + I, by a mother's care, when young was led, + Down by the river to yon primrose bed, + Where birds so sweetly sung the trees among, + I thought those days were happy, bright, and long. + Oft I, a boy, with others of my age, + Did eager here in youthful sports engage. + Oft in yon wood we rov'd when life was new, + The rocks, and trees and rugged caves to view; + Where woodbines wild, with sweets perfum'd the air, + And all seem'd joyous, beautiful, and fair. + Alas! where's now the grove? The trees are gone! + And many the wide ocean are upon: + A few remaining springers yet survive, + And keep their owner's name and place alive! + Just so it is with us, could we but see, + Our fathers who are in eternity! + Their offspring live, but they're for ever gone, + Their portion's fixed, no more will they return! + May we be wise, and lessons learn afresh, + To trust no longer in an arm of flesh!-- + Begin to seek, and rest not till we find + The peace of God, which satisfies the mind. + Then seeing all my earthly joys are fled, + Where, O my soul! art thou for succour led? + 'Tis Jesus, that can all thy wants supply, + A fountain 's there which never will run dry: + Arabia's grove, nor Sharon's flowery field, + Such rich perfume, such holy incense yield: + 'Tis Jesus' merit, and his dying love, + 'Tis these perfume the glorious courts above! + +FOOTNOTES: + +[B] The Mill was built by Mr. Ord. + +[C] Mrs. Moon, landlady of the Public House, who died during the +Author's absence. + + + + +OLD SAM! + +OR + +THE EFFECTS OF THE GOSPEL. + + + Attend, all ye who Zion's tidings love, + Whose hearts and hopes are fix'd on things above, + Whose chief delight is centred in the fame, + Of signs and wonders wrought through Jesus' name;-- + All ye who virtue love, and evil hate, + Attend, while I a simple tale relate. + A preacher being to a village sent, + To warn and woo the people to repent; + Depending only on God's mighty grace, + His pious soul was looking for success. + For God, his people had a house prepared, + In which his arm had many times been bared, + And in that little village congregation, + Were found some earnest seekers of salvation. + Among the rest a noted Bruiser stood, + Whose hands had oft been stain'd with human blood; + A man of constitution so robust, + He oft had laid Goliaths in the dust. + He fully on the preacher fix'd his eye, + But scarcely could declare the reason why; + The subject, and the theme on which he dwelt, + Caught his attention, and its force he felt. + He thought the preacher all his actions knew, + His words, like arrows, pierc'd his conscience through; + His spirits fell, his heart was sick and sore, + Such anguish he had never felt before. + It seem'd to him as if an angel spoke, + He felt within as if his heart was broke, + He thought he heard mount Sinai's thunder roll, + Which shook the very centre of his soul! + Such mighty strokes soon humbled all his pride, + He sank condemn'd, and loud for mercy cried. + "What shall I do?" said he, "Nay, who can tell? + Oh! how shall I escape the pit of Hell?" + On bended knees he did salvation seek, + Big tears roll'd down his long undaunted cheek:-- + The people pray'd, the sinner wept the more,-- + This man, who till that hour, ne'er wept before. + After a time his mighty anguish ceas'd, + The Lord of life his captive soul releas'd! + The joy he felt he scarcely could contain, + The people sung--"a sinner's born again!" + Some time elaps'd--two of his mates had met, + As custom was, and in a tavern sat, + Conversing on events that daily pass'd, + Till one the other thus address'd at last. + "Heard you not what occurred the other day? + Old Sam has been converted, people say!" + "Old Sam!" the other says, with great surprise, + "What Sam, the Boxer?" "Yes!" the other cries! + "Depend upon't, though you may think it strange, + But in old Sam there is a wondrous change!" + "Nay,--he converted! Pshaw! 'tis all a whim; + They've just as much converted me as him; + And I can find a man, I have no doubt, + That soon will beat all his religion out." + "Perhaps not so," the other softly said, + "I think Old Sam 's of better mettle made, + I know that he was always bad to bend, + And on his firmness I will still depend." + The other rose, and would a wager bet, + Old Sam was not so far converted yet, + But that if pick'd at, he would turn again, + And still he would the bloody cause maintain. + To Sammy's door their way direct they took, + For he had now the tavern's haunts forsook; + They call'd a rebel out to lead the van, + To vex and aggravate the poor old man. + At length they reach'd, and rattled at the door, + Standing around, like lions to devour + His happy soul; but he had by his side, + King David's faithful Shepherd for his guide. + Old Sammy from his Bible reading rose, + And straightway forth to meet the rebel goes; + "Here's one," say they, "will fight for what you like!" + He stamp'd, and raged, and dared old Sam to strike; + Sam look'd and smiled, as he before him stood, + Then shook his head, thinking the cause not good; + At length his flaming passion to control, + He cries, "The Lord have mercy on thy soul! + Thy case I pity, O thou man of might, + Although this practice once was my delight; + Calm thy fierce rage, and to old Sam attend, + Before destruction prove thy awful end. + I clearly see the spirit thou art in, + For I myself oft in the same have been; + And many a one like thee I've made to bend, + And brought their boasting valour to an end. + 'Tis well for thee that I'm another man, + Or thou wouldst rue the day that this began; + I soon should settle all thy boasts and brags, + And make thy bones fall rattling on the flags! + Thou mayst thank God, whose power and grace divine, + Have chang'd this proud, rebellious heart of mine; + The love I feel to thee forbids the blow, + Which soon would lay thy boasting prowess low. + Restrain thy passion, give old Sam thine hand, + Be thankful that thou dost before him stand; + Go tell the men whom once I did adore, + Their wager's lost, old Sam will fight no more; + Tell them to save their money for their wives, + Give up their folly, and reform their lives; + To go and seek salvation while they may, + Before the wrath of God drives them away!" + Sam's noble speech so satisfied them all, + That not one there durst him a coward call. + "Although the wager 's fairly lost," say they, + "We all must own old Sam hath won the day!" + Now Sammy like a warrior stout and bold, + Seeks new companions, and forsakes the old; + While shouts of praise his ravish'd ears surround, + He hears, and understands, the joyful sound! + Yes, Sammy has a better master now, + And more substantial friends to deal with too; + Secure he leans on his Redeemer's breast, + And sweetly sings himself away to rest. + + + + +THOUGHTS ON GOOD FRIDAY: + + Occasioned by seeing two "_Sinkers_" dragged out of a Coal Pit; + one of them killed, the other dreadfully wounded. At a short + distance, a busy crowd were preparing their tents and posts for + the approaching races, on Easter Monday and Tuesday. On + mentioning the fatal occurrence, and naming the day, a + bystander exclaimed, "O, Good Friday is nought!" + + + The morning sun shone dim, as if in pain, + To see that day by man so soon despised. + The feather'd choirs did heedless man reprove, + Who had more cause than they, with early song + To greet the morn, on which their Saviour bled. + Alas! that man should e'er forget his love! + Down, down the pit, the cheerful sinkers went, + Nor grief, nor fear through all the gloom appear'd; + Though at the bottom deep, grim death sat shrouded + In horrid features, measuring their minutes! + Foul was the air, and bad;--they saw him not, + Nor dream'd he was so near, nor held dispute, + On which the lot might fall, to be his victim:-- + When suddenly, through wanton carelessness, + Or the just judgment of an angry God, + The kibble kick'd, brim full of splinter'd rock! + Down fell at once his ponderous instrument, + Full thirty fathom, whizzing as it went! + Beneath its heavy crash a victim fell, + And groan'd, nor ceas'd, till he had groan'd his last. + Then from behind the scene the monster stept, + And with his bony fingers hurl'd his dart: + Its point another touch'd, but not so deep. + Forth from the pit I saw the sufferers dragg'd, + I heard deep groans, and saw their mangled flesh. + The former then with grief was quick interr'd, + The other a poor halting cripple lives. + Where's now the man that says "Good Friday's nought?" + With accidents like this, God's swift judgments, + I could, if 'twere requested, fill these sheets; + But to the man who thinks, and judges right, + This may suffice. And is Good Friday nought? + Is that day nought on which our Saviour bled, + To buy our pardon, to save by suff'ring! + Open salvation's fount for crimson crimes, + And wash, and make us guilty lepers clean? + Alas for man! He sees, he feels it not! + Of old, men saw, and felt it, though far off. + The martyrs saw, own'd, and observ'd it too, + In fasting, prayer, and self-denial; + This made them march, when call'd, with holy joy, + To meet the dagger's point, or burning stake. + The earth once felt, and felt to her foundations; + The marble mountain felt, and quak'd, and shiver'd; + The sun felt, and grew dark; the heavens wept, + And hell beneath, in dismal groanings howl'd! + The serpent felt,--and still feels in his bruis'd head. + The Saviour!--Yes, the King of Glory felt, + In that sad cup his subjects should have drunk:-- + Both in the temple, and the wilderness, + The street, the judgment hall,--in Pilate's scourge, + In cruel mockings, and the scarlet robe! + He felt it too beneath the rugged wood, + When He fatigued climb'd Calvary's steep brow! + He felt it in the hammer and the nails + That pierc'd his flesh, though he offended not! + He felt it in the reed, and crown of thorns! + He felt it in the hyssop, vinegar, and gall, + In strange upbraidings, and the soldier's spear! + He felt it in that mighty crush, which should, + And would have crush'd, his guilty murderers. + He felt it till his mortal part expir'd! + He feels it yet, and so do his disciples: + But the proud stiff-neck'd sinner feels it not;-- + Perverse, he _will not_, yet one day he shall! + Though he at present, feast and garnish out + His wife's, or children's birth days, and his own, + With songs, and cards, and music, and the dance, + Yet this, like Job's day, shall be blotted out! + Though he _will not_, yet he shall regard it, + When God appears in majesty, and power, + Arm'd with thunder-bolts, and chariots of fire, + On all his foes to pour his vengeance! + Yes! All men then will wish to be his friends. + E'en those who have his words and grace despis'd, + Will wish their lives were to begin again!-- + "Whither, O, whither shall the guilty flee, + When consternation turns the good man pale!" + + + + +TO A WITHERED FLOWER! + + + 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! + Pay up,--say nought,--'What's that to thou?' + It is the parson's horse or cow! + + I know the living dare not grumble, + Nor at the parson's conduct stumble! + And when the simple truth is told, + Of dead men they can get no hold. + + We thought no hammer was to sound, + Upon this consecrated ground,-- + Yet cow or horse may grind our bones + And rub their sides against the stones! + + Some think things so are constituted, + That masons' tools are all polluted, + But that the parson's horse or cow, + Like th' Church, is consecrated too! + + Thus they may gallop o'er our graves, + And split our coffins into halves; + In spite of widows tears and groans, + May pastime make of dead folks' bones! + + This is too hard for flesh and blood! + A thing which cannot be withstood; + A thing which inward grief imparts + To pious minds and tender hearts. + + But men enthrall'd must never speak, + Nor for redress attempt to seek, + But with such creatures be content, + As Bishops have ordain'd and sent. + + Like him who dwells upon the coast, + Who of the priesthood makes his boast, + Regardless what the flock endure, + "If he can but the fleece secure!" + + His present residence and living, + Are of his earthly father's giving; + So none his title dare dispute, + For Bishops cannot turn him out! + + Though life and conduct be profane, + He knows that men dare not complain; + Or soon he'd show them his degrees, + And take revenge in _tythes_ and _fees_! + + Such workmen's labour is in vain + To keep their hands from bloody stain; + In vain they strive to show the road, + That leads to glory and to God! + + No wonder if such Church decay, + If members leave it day by day, + Where tyrannising is the law,-- + And till a change, it must be so. + + The remedy will be unknown, + Till Priests are of the Spirit born; + Till they get hearts refin'd and pure, + Dissenters must their scorn endure! + + + + +TO THE MOOR BIRDS IN A STORM. + + + Ye birds of the Moor, I doubt you'll be poor, + The storm is quite likely to last; + The owl and the crow, are shelter'd below, + But you are expos'd to the blast! + + The snow lies so deep, the hill is so steep, + My footsteps are feeble and slow, + O lend me your wings, ye dear little things, + To carry me over the snow! + + Nay, I have no gun, so you need not run, + Nor cackle, nor spread out your tails; + No danger is near, you've nothing to fear, + The poacher is down in the dales. + + The wind whistle's woe, through the valley below, + To the birds that are down in the wood; + You may hear by report, that the gun is afloat, + To scatter their feathers and blood. + + If you'll be content, till the storm shall be spent, + And suffer no envy or strife; + No doubt but you may, on some future day, + Get fat, and escape with your life! + + But if you encroach, or chance to approach, + The web-footed classes domain; + If wide you should stray, or fall out by the way, + A thousand to one but you're slain! + + + + +LINES ON RETURNING A BORROWED STICK OF SLENDERISH SIZE, + + Which had been lent with a strict charge to take particular + care of it, and to return it as soon as done with. + + To MR. WILLIAM HORNER, of Ripon. + + + Dear Billy, with thanks, I return thee thy switch, + Which has many times kept me out of the ditch. + I have found oft when stumbling o'er hillock or stone, + A slender supporter is better than none! + + When the stars were beclouded and darkness prevail'd, + And the rain was descending, its aid never fail'd; + For it grop'd out my way, and assisted my sight,-- + When my foot would have slipp'd, it kept me upright. + + It never forsook me, or broke my command, + Unless it was when it slipt out of my hand; + Then myself it might blame, for not taking more care, + For when duty demanded it always was there. + + It is rare upon earth to find such a friend, + On which one can always so safely depend;-- + When help was most needed it paid most regard, + And never reprov'd me for using it hard! + + + + +THE THUNDER STORM. + + + The praise be thine, Almighty, matchless King, + Whose care and power, my muse presumes to sing; + Whose tender care protects, while thousands sleep, + The wakeful sea-boy on the mighty deep. + Thou dost from perils screen his naked head, + Which in a moment fill the world with dread; + Thou, while thy lightnings flash, and thunders roll, + Dost whisper secret peace into his soul! + + The praise be thine, whose interposing power, + Protected us across yon lonely moor, + And through that night of terror and alarm, + Mysteriously preserv'd us all from harm! + That night of awful peril we record, + Ascribing all the glory to the Lord; + When from yon distant Meeting we return'd, + And pious friends at home our absence mourn'd! + + The moon and stars at once withdrew their light, + And thus increas'd the horrors of the night, + Loud claps of thunder shook the sons of pride, + And female courage was severely tried! + The time pass'd on in conversation sweet, + While flaming lightning flash'd around our feet,-- + Yet by the flash, in each believer's face + We read the sign of confidence and peace. + + Some to our God did then devoutly pray, + While others sung that awful hour away; + A voice was heard, "Ye need not be afraid, + Whose hope is on the Rock of Ages stay'd!" + Our virgins trimm'd their lamps, and sweetly sung, + And tenderly around each other clung, + While, as through fire and flood they took their way, + Salvation was the burden of their lay. + + 'Midst dismal darkness the black clouds were driven, + With all the fearful majesty of heaven; + And then as if an angel cleft the cloud, + And show'd to man the glowing wrath of God, + More quick than either thought, or sight of man, + From north to south the flaming fluid ran; + The east and west burst into a blaze, + And guilty man beheld it with amaze! + + It seem'd to warn the world against that day, + When earth and sky shall melt, and pass away! + The distant mountains seem'd to own his nod, + And cried to man, "Prepare to meet thy God!" + All glory be to our eternal King, + Who brought us all safe home His praise to sing. + May we both hear and keep his Holy Word, + And so fulfil the royal law of God! + + + + +THE MISER'S AWAY! + + + The miser's away, and he'll never come back, + Any more his rusty old guineas to crack, + By his niggardly fare, of potatoes and fish, + His successor enjoys a more plentiful dish. + I once had occasion to pass by his door, + Whose threshold so seldom was cross'd by the poor, + A kitten came out in its innocent play, + And pleasantly three-thrumm'd--"The Miser's away!" + + The way weary traveller, to shorten the mile, + Sometimes has occasion to go by the style; + The gain that he gets, his spirit revives, + He cuts off an elbow, and sooner arrives. + Through one of his fields the pathway doth lie, + And very few 'scap'd the dint of his eye. + The gate as it opens and creaks, seems to say, + 'Pass stranger, and welcome'--"The Miser's away!" + + In his ancient old Intake, long kept without fence, + And without cultivation, for fear of expence, + By the plough, or the spade, the rough is made plain, + And the hopeful young husbandman scatters the grain. + Where the bones of the gimmer decay'd on the ground, + And nettles and briars were every where found, + Fine corn is now growing, all smiling and gay; + It had not been so, but--"The Miser's away!" + + The birds haste away to the green holly bush, + The blackbird now tries to outrival the thrush; + They tip the tall branches on fluttering wing, + Make nearer approaches, and merrily sing. + The flowers in the garden around the bee-hive, + With unwonted freshness begin to revive, + To each new beholder their beauties display, + And whisper in perfume--"The Miser's away!" + + Here among his old books his Sabbaths he spent, + On logic and physic sat making comment;-- + He thought it would be the best method to use, + To save both his carcase, his money, and shoes;-- + He'd be his own doctor, and preacher likewise, + And his old yellow heap, like a mountain would rise! + The riches he heap'd up, by night and by day, + Another has found, for--"The Miser's away!" + + + + +THE MISTAKE: + + Containing a Moral for high looks, and forward folks. + + + Ye sportsmen bright of skill, and sight, + Who range o'er hill and dale; + Awhile give ear, and you shall hear, + A true and homely tale. + Ye friends at home, who seldom roam, + Much farther than the mill, + Be sure you're wise, and mind your eyes, + Or let your guns lie still. + It happen'd where, as you shall hear, + A building was erected, + That to complete its breadth and height, + Some workmen were collected. + + One morning chill, before yon hill + Was gilded with the sun, + Or adze, or axe, or mallet had, + Their battering begun; + Two favourite ducks, had 'scaped the fox, + Well fed, and feather'd too; + In sportive play, aspiring they + Took wing, and off they flew. + With airy wheel, they quick did scale, + The lofty wall unscar'd, + The trees they topt, and down they dropt + A gun-shot from the yard. + + A joiner ran, to fetch a gun + The wild ducks to secure,-- + The gun he brought, with which he thought, + To make at least one fewer. + Through mist and dew, the contents flew, + A duck began to cry, + And one took flight, and left our sight, + Nor could we it espy. + This done, the man full swiftly ran, + To gather up his game,-- + Both fore and aft, the people laugh'd, + To see his _wild_ duck _tame_! + + He set her down, she gaz'd around, + Wond'ring at such abuse,-- + But for her weight, or else she might + Have pass'd for a wild goose. + In friendship sweet, the ducks soon meet, + And talk their frolic o'er, + And in their play, they seem to say, + They'll fly so high no more. + Our thoughts oft may, our skill betray, + But actions they speak louder; + If he'd been still, he'd saved his skill, + Likewise his shot and powder! + + + + +THE BROKEN SEAL. + + + To sing of Southcotes clouded fame, + My muse presumes and tries to soar; + Though some may say, "Blot out her name, + Let it be seen or heard no more," + I have a secret to reveal, + Effected by a broken Seal! + + This poor Joanna had her day;-- + While fair and bright the morning shone, + She led too many far astray, + Whose souls much better things had known; + She soon their ancient tribe could tell, + And signed their title with a Seal. + + A poor, illiterate, labouring man, + Who went Joanna's voice to hear, + A stranger to salvation's plan, + Had linger'd on from year to year; + He thought she preach'd the gospel real, + And he of course must have a Seal! + + Without a heart transform'd and new, + Joanna Southcote took him in, + And seal'd him her disciple true, + Without repenting of his sin;-- + He slyly from his wife did steal, + The price of his mysterious Seal! + + Her creed on such conditions hung, + That while her seals continued whole, + Then hope was bright, and faith was strong, + And they could neither fail nor fall; + But none could rescue those from hell, + Who chanc'd to crack or break the Seal! + + When, lo, upon a certain day, + Examining his little store, + Joanna's passport to survey; + His pocket book he rummag'd o'er, + But consternation turn'd him pale, + When he perceiv'd he'd _broke_ his Seal! + + His heart was stung with deep dismay, + With anguish, and tormenting fears, + Which like a trumpet night and day, + Did sound this sentence in his ears, + "Thou never canst thy crime conceal, + Remember thou hast broke thy Seal!" + + He thought the Almighty from on high, + Would soon his red hot lightnings pour, + And he, a sinner doom'd to die, + Might then expect the hottest shower;-- + God would on him his wrath reveal, + For he had broke the fatal Seal! + + He more than either once or twice, + With heavy heart and tearful eye, + Went to a preacher for advice, + Who soon his sickness did descry; + By what his conscience seem'd to feel, + His heart was broken with his Seal! + + The preacher then without delay, + Did point him to the sinner's friend, + Exhorting him to watch and pray, + And on the Son of God depend, + Whose efficacious blood could heal + His soul, though he had broke his Seal! + + One day in agonizing prayer, + Believing on the Son of God, + On the dark borders of despair, + He found redemption in His blood, + And from the transport he did feel, + He bless'd the day he broke the Seal! + + + + +THE STONE: + + Composed to gratify a Scottish Rhymer, and brother mason. + + + A stone!--and what about a stone? + What sense is there in that? + I answer, in itself there's none: + But hold, I'll tell you what! + Oft while in craggy woods I've been, + All silent, and alone, + A thousand beauties I have seen, + Conceal'd within a stone! + + While passing through life's troubled scenes, + O'erwhelm'd with care and grief, + A stranger in this wilderness, + And needful of relief: + Not wishful then to every one, + To make my troubles known,-- + The thing most useful in this world, + I've gained it by a stone! + + Some boast of riches, and estates, + Of chariots, and of steeds, + Of ships that sail by wind or steam, + And some of mighty deeds: + But all the treasure I desire, + In cities, or alone, + Is peace of conscience, health of mind, + And hewing at a stone! + + Our kings, and nobles, dukes and lords, + Whose splendid castles rise, + Whose palaces, and lofty towers, + Reach almost to the skies; + Of Greece and Corinth make their boast, + Yet are oblig'd to own, + Some honour due, from first to last, + To those who hew the stone! + + In every town, in modern days, + Some system new prevails, + Men deviate from former ways, + The mason's art now fails: + Yet masons will be masons still, + And will each other own, + And smile at all attempts of skill + To imitate a stone! + + The work will stand, and not disgrace, + The master-builder's plan, + Defying rain, and tempests fierce, + For twice the age of man! + With all their compositions curl'd, + And round their columns thrown, + The grandest temple in the world, + We read was built of stone! + + When this fair earth at first arose, + And man was made upright, + Him, the great God of Heaven chose, + And view'd him with delight. + Had he thus stood, ('tis thought by some,) + And in God's image shone, + It never would have been our doom, + To hew and polish stone. + + But man soon fell, by mortal sin, + And since the deed is done, + And we its captives long have been, + Th' effect we cannot shun: + Yet though man from perfection fell, + And sin did make him groan, + The Lord in Zion laid for him, + "A sure foundation stone!" + + When men began to multiply, + And sin defil'd the heart, + The Lord look'd down with pitying eye, + With man he could not part. + The sun by day, and moon by night, + And twinkling stars that shone, + He made them all rejoice, and sing, + Of "Christ, the corner stone!" + + Whoe'er upon this stone shall fall, + Shall surely broken be, + Yet he may still be heal'd again, + And be from sin set free: + But he on whom this stone shall fall, + Shall see the Almighty's frown; + He shall be crush'd as powder small, + By this stupendous stone! + + Moses, that mighty man of God, + Who Israel's flock did lead, + Whose feet the path of duty trod, + And oft for them did plead, + In conversation with the Lord, + His face with glory shone, + And from awful Sinai bore, + The "Tables made of stone!" + + But lo, revolting Israel's seed, + In Horeb, as we're told, + Had during Moses' absence made, + A calf of molten gold; + Such folly made his griev'd heart ache, + With pangs till then unknown, + And down he threw at once, and brake + The "Tables made of stone!" + + Though ours be not such flagrant sins, + But lie perhaps conceal'd, + The day is coming when all things, + Now hid shall be reveal'd: + And some we have great cause to fear, + If they the truth would own, + Have little gods which they revere + Of gold, or precious stone. + + When once through Israel's armies brave, + The boasting challenge ran, + When great Goliath sent to Saul, + To find him out a man, + Who would in single combat fight, + Till one should be o'erthrown, + How little did he think that day + Of falling by a stone! + + With steps that made the earth to bend, + And spirit swell'd with pride, + He boasting shook his greaves of brass, + And Israel's God defied. + From Jesse's loins a stripling sprung, + Who made the monster groan, + When from the whirling sling he threw, + The feeble,--fatal stone! + + Proud armies have been overthrown, + And cities sack'd within, + And towers and temples broken down, + The sad effects of sin:-- + And once an Angel did foreshow, + The fall of Babylon, + When in the heaving deep he threw, + A great and mighty stone! + + When David's highly favour'd son, + His temple first began, + They from the mountains brought a stone, + Which seem'd a pest to man: + The masons view'd it o'er and o'er, + But oft with haughty scorn, + Rejected it, and roll'd aside + This strange, unshapely stone! + + From first to last it tumbling lay, + An object of disdain, + Till time, upon a certain day, + The mystery did explain. + The last, and loftiest pinnacle, + To finish and adorn + They sought, but none would do so well + As this rejected stone! + + A finer building ne'er was seen, + By any mortal eye, + The timbrels rung, and Israel sung, + And old men wept for joy. + And having thus their temple rear'd + Themselves are forc'd to own, + That which the builders once refus'd + Is now the Corner Stone! + + 'Tis thus Jehovah's favour'd sons, + With hearts by grace refined, + Are all compar'd to living stones, + For nobler ends design'd. + Thus he the mighty structure rears, + And perfects them in one, + A glorious Church,--and JESUS is + The chief, the corner stone! + + A stone by Daniel was perceiv'd, + And still the record stands, + Which from the mountains should proceed, + Cut out as without hands; + Whose dignity should greater grow, + And mighty Kings dethrone, + Till all the earth be fill'd below, + With this amazing stone! + + So "in due time God sent his Son," + According to His word, + Whose sacred mission was begun, + And seal'd with precious blood; + Who, while He dwelt on earth below, + Did make salvation known, + And caus'd His heavenly love to flow + In hearts once hard as stone! + + But Pharisees and cruel Jews, + Did seek from day to day, + This holy person to abuse, + To persecute and slay. + But God did give his Angels charge, + O'er his anointed one, + Lest he at any time should dash + His foot against a stone! + + At length his faithfulness to prove, + He for the world must die, + And power was given to wicked men, + The Lord to crucify. + The sun was dark at that event, + And with His dying groan, + Earth trembled! and the rocks were rent,-- + The rocks of solid stone! + + His enemies still follow'd Him, + When He lay in the grave + Hewn in the rock, for Joseph's tomb, + Who did His body crave: + Lest He their projects should destroy, + And they be overthrown, + They shut him in, and set a guard, + And seal'd the mighty stone! + + But Roman bands could not confine + The Saviour to His cell, + He manifests His power divine, + In spite of Earth and Hell: + The Father "owns His suffering Son," + Nor leaves Him then alone, + For lo! "an Angel comes by night, + And rolls away the stone!" + + He rises to men's wond'ring view, + And triumphs o'er His foes, + And proves the blessed record true, + Though sin and death oppose: + In glorious majesty He reigns, + On his exalted throne, + And still He power on earth retains, + To soften hearts of stone! + + To those who overcome through Him, + A stone, and a new name + He gives, which none can read but they, + Nor understand the same. + And they shall share His joys divine, + Seated on glittering thrones, + And walk those streets whose pavements shine + Like gold, or precious stones! + + + + +TO THE RISING SUN! ON A FROSTY MORNING. + + + Hail glorious Sun! bright regent of the day; + Gladly I welcome thine all cheering ray: + 'Midst frost and snow, a visit thus from thee, + Sets each numb toe and frozen finger free! + + Bright emblem of the Majesty on high, + Who lives and reigns, the Lord of earth and sky! + Before thy face the hailstones melt away, + And thy glad light turns darkness into day. + + Oft moving down the sloping dale I've eyed, + Thy golden radiance from the mountain side; + Have often long'd upon yon hills to be, + To catch a comfortable ray from thee. + + Now chill November's breath is cold and keen, + The trees around have lost their lovely green, + While horned cattle from the mountains roam, + And for their masters low, to take them home. + + The early plough boy stops to clap his hands, + The tender female dances where she stands; + While I, half starv'd, have thought thy coming long, + But now I hail thee welcome with a song! + + 'Tis said in heathen lands they worship thee, + When o'er the mountain tops thy light they see: + But as thou here no homage dost receive, + I to thy Maker all the glory give. + + His face, like thine, the drooping sinner cheers, + Oppress'd with guilt, and overwhelm'd with fears: + A ray from thee, O uncreated Sun, + Breaks up, and makes long frozen fountains run! + + Thou, from thyself, the soul to purify, + Dost pour the living water from on high, + Which if it doth within the soul remain, + The sinner's heart shall never freeze again! + + Yes! he who daily drinks of this pure wave, + For sensual pleasure shall no relish have, + But calm amidst the turbulence of life, + Shall dwell for ever free from care and strife. + + Shine, glorious Sun! thy blessings richly pour, + And cheer our fallen world from hour to hour! + With thy glad beams, O visit every vale, + 'Till every starving soul thine influence feel! + + + + +LINES IN MEMORY OF THE REV. D. DUCK, CURATE OF DANBY. + + + Yes! Daniel, faithful Daniel's gone, + His weeping flock lament their loss; + No more they fix their eyes upon + That zealous preacher of the cross! + + No more he meets them at the gate, + No breezes waft his silver'd hair, + While o'er the dead, both small and great, + His soul breathes out the ardent prayer! + + Nor from his eye, when grave-scenes call, + His streaming tears are seen to flow,-- + Those tears, which to the earth did fall, + And mingle with the dust below. + + No more he at the altar stands, + To bless, or break the hallow'd bread, + While from his lips and lifted hands, + Each hungry, holy soul is fed! + + But mingled happy saints among, + His ravish'd soul doth now ascend, + To share that bliss which he so long, + To others here did recommend. + + + + +AN ELEGY ON THE DEATH OF A BELOVED CHILD. + + + My little boy! my lovely boy! + Why in such haste away? + Will no embrace, or tempting toy, + Induce thy longer stay? + + What prompted thee the day before, + To climb thy Father's knee,-- + Spring to the window or the door, + With such unusual glee? + + I wonder oft, with wakeful eye, + And think it might be so, + Some Spirit then was passing by, + And beckon'd thee to go! + + I recollect with other things, + Which I have felt and fear'd, + Once something like the sound of wings, + Within the room was heard! + + Hast thou in infant vision seen + The city of our God? + Or on those holy mountains been, + By saints and angels trod? + + Or hast thou heard the melody + Which fills the courts above? + Or has thy Saviour shown to thee + The tokens of his love? + + If so,--no wonder thou should'st look + So light on all below;-- + If thou hast tasted of the brook + Where living waters flow! + + No wonder thou with such delight, + Didst view the rising sun: + Then glance on us thine eye so bright, + And flutter to be gone! + + If thou hast seen among heaven's choirs, + The crown that thou shalt wear, + Forgive a parent's fond desires, + To keep thee longer here. + + If thou among earth's griefs and joys, + Hadst any longer stayed, + With other rude and wicked boys, + Hadst into evil strayed;-- + + Hadst thou thy Saviour disobey'd, + Who died thy soul to save, + Thy parents' heads might have been laid, + With sorrow in the grave. + + If it be wrong to mourn for thee, + The Lord that wrong forgive, + And grant us grace each day, that we + In him may walk and live. + + O could our faith but pierce the gloom + That hovers round our clay, + We might prefer an early tomb, + To one that's old and grey! + + Could we but hear the songs they sing, + Or see the robes they wear, + 'Twould give our resolutions wing, + With longings to be there. + + To see those heavenly harpers young, + Light up the sacred fires; + To see their nimble fingers run + Along the golden wires; + + Would make a man forget his grief, + His conflicts here below, + And give a mother's soul relief, + With languishings to go! + + Would make us all forsake our sin, + And Jesus Christ adore, + And bring the resolution in, + To grieve our God no more. + + Would make us to His house resort, + To weep, and watch, and pray, + Until we gain that blissful port + Where tears are wiped away. + + + + +ON THE FIRST TEXT HEARD SPIRITUALLY. + + ("My heart is fixed."--Psalm lvii. 7.) + + + By grace divine I sing, "My heart is fix'd!" + (Fix'd on the corner stone in Zion laid:) + He spoke, I wept, and heard the blessed text, + And all my wavering, wandering thoughts were stay'd. + + He to me spoke, as with an angel's voice, + And all my fears at once like lightning fled! + O how my troubled soul did then rejoice! + I was as one new risen from the dead! + + Thrice happy bard who wrote such words as these, + So applicable to a case like mine; + Such music surely never reach'd my ears, + Nor words did ever with such lustre shine! + + Though all who read, may not that beauty see, + Nor feel the truths that sin sick hearts console, + Yet, O, it was a blessed text to me, + By which the Lord spoke peace unto my soul! + + 'Tis mystery all! 'Tis like the wind that blows! + I hear its sound, as it sweeps through the wood, + I feel it come, but know not where it goes,-- + And so is every one that's born of God! + + Now I can sing, "My soul is sick of love!"-- + Of love to God, and every one I see; + Nor smiles, nor frowns, my happy soul can move, + A friend or stranger is alike to me! + + But will the Lord such rebels still receive? + Can angels sing for such a wretch as I? + Did Jesus die, that one so vile might live? + So vile, so full of sin and misery! + + Yes! He the sinner doth invite to come; + For rich, for poor, for all his grace is free! + Fly, sinners, fly to Christ, there yet is room + For all who feel their guilt and misery. + + The King is now my Friend, I cannot doubt, + For he His witness doth to me impart; + He'll bind the strong man arm'd, and cast him out, + And pour the living stream into my heart! + + O happy soul, when thus to life restor'd, + Let folly end, where genuine hope begins; + He finds a heaven, who truly finds the Lord, + But he that finds this heaven, must lose his sins! + + O may I learn to do the thing that's right, + My love to God, by true obedience show; + And read, and wrestle, strive, rebuke, and fight, + And watch, and pray, and to perfection grow! + + So when my warfare here on earth is past, + And Death on me his chilling hand shall lay, + God will receive my ransom'd soul at last, + To live and reign with Him, in endless day! + + + + +TO A SQUIRREL IN A CAGE. + + + Little spinner, blithe and gay, + Dancing thus thy life away! + A King his palace might resign, + For a couch as soft as thine! + + Thou canst choose, as suits thee best, + When to toil, and when to rest: + Free from earthly care and strife, + Merrily doth pass thy life. + + Ere the day begins to dawn, + Thou art at thy work alone; + By the early riser seen, + Turning round thy light machine. + + Quick thou tip'st the slender wires, + Which more art than strength requires;-- + Be the weather foul or fair, + Heart and foot are light as air! + + Joyful in thy little jail, + Thou dost spread thy bushy tail: + Playing many a curious prank, + Tumbling like a mountebank! + + When awful thunders o'er thee break, + And earth's foundations seem to shake, + Free from terror and dismay, + Thou heed'st it not, but spin'st away. + + Separated now for good, + From thy cronies of the wood, + Thou no more dost wander free, + Skipping light from tree to tree. + + Though once with thee things better went, + Thou seemest happy and content, + If some kind friend supply thy lack, + By giving thee a nut to crack. + + And when thou hast it in thy paw, + In face of either friend or foe, + The beamings of thine eye impart + The motions of a grateful heart. + + Alone, confin'd within thy cage, + Thou fearest not the battle's rage; + Of courage bold, and action brave, + Though in prison--thou'rt not a slave! + + If life is spared, some other day, + When I shall chance to come this way, + A present unto thee I'll bring, + Thou bonny, little woodland thing! + + Little spinner, blithe and gay, + Dancing thus thy life away! + A Queen her palace might resign, + For a pillow soft as thine! + + + + +TO A BIRD SINGING IN WINTER. + + + Why, why, little bird, so cheerfully sing, + When all things around look so sad? + The prospect at present, as touching the spring, + Gives cause to be sorry, not glad! + + Had April appear'd in loveliest hue, + And made the green meadows look gay, + Thou merrily might'st have mounted thy bough, + And warbled thy minutes away. + + But summer's far off, and still in the copse, + The cold winter's snow doth descend, + Fierce winds, and sharp frosts, may yet blast thy hopes, + And bring thy sweet song to an end. + + By craft of the boys, in bush, or in wood, + Thy foot may be caught in a snare, + And thou whilst seeking a morsel of food, + Be a captive, ere thou art aware. + + Why merrily sing, when thou hast no barn, + In which to lay up thy grain? + Why warble thy notes, while unthankful man, + So often is heard to complain? + + Why cheerfully sing when there are no flowers, + Or sun in the valley to shine? + 'Tis proof that thy prospects are brighter than ours, + Thy heart more contented than mine! + + + + +PETCH'S ELEGY! + + + How short, how frail is our abode on earth! + But yesterday it seems since we sprang forth: + Life doth no sooner sparkle in our eye, + Than we are subject to decline and die! + + A brother Mason now a victim lies + To Death, whose icy hand hath closed his eyes! + He sleeps, forgetful of his toil and care; + In prime of life, no more his voice we hear. + + No more the chisel moves within his hands, + The sounding axe no more his skill demands: + But silence reigns,--his spirit's gone to rest, + His ransom'd soul is number'd with the blest! + + His sins and follies here he did bemoan, + A heavy burden, grievous to be borne; + When lo, the Lord, a week before he died, + Dispers'd the gloom, and all his wants supplied + + In the Redeemer's blood he did believe, + And God his pardoning love to him did give: + Such depth of mercy fill'd us with surprise, + And tears of gratitude flow'd from our eyes! + + He boldly triumph'd in God's pardoning grace, + With love and patience beaming in his face; + Till fainting in the icy arms of death, + He praised his God with his departing breath + + How oft have we in health, and free from pain, + Joyful to labour, cross'd the dewy plain, + Before the morning stars had disappear'd, + Or early harmony the woodlands cheer'd! + + How oft have we been partners through the day, + Or sung in hymns our nightly hours away! + Alas! my partner's gone! Can I forbear + To welcome down my cheek the rolling tear? + + No more on earth his voice shall mix with mine, + In social converse, or in songs divine! + Be it my chief concern to be prepar'd, + Like him to die, and meet my just reward. + + False witnesses did raise a vile report, + And laid things to his charge that he knew not: + But now he's gone to be with Christ on high, + Where he is safe, and may their power defy. + + Now slander and reproach at once may cease; + No more can they disturb our brother's peace! + Their arrows keen can never pierce his soul, + He is departed, and hath reach'd the goal! + + Farewell! but Oh! we hope to meet again, + And join our voices in a nobler strain, + Where Jesus our great Prophet, Priest, and King, + In everlasting majesty doth reign! + + + + +REFLECTIONS ON PETCH'S TOMB. + + + Dear Petch belov'd! Thy endless portion's fix'd! + As death hath left thee, so shall judgment find: + Thy spirit, with a world of spirits mix'd, + Hath left its mouldering tenement behind! + + Sprightly and active, thou the other day, + Didst fill thy station in this world of cares; + In life's fair morn, thy soul hath slipt away, + From its delusions, and a thousand snares! + + Thy cheeks a more than common bloom did wear, + Thy voice with music sweetly did agree; + Thy heart was lively, thy complexion fair:-- + Had I chose one for life, I'd chosen thee! + + Perhaps thy mind dwelt on some future scene, + Anticipating more than was allow'd, + When pale affliction drew a veil between, + And death appointed thee an early shroud! + + Methinks I hear thee, while I thus survey + The dreary place where thy remains are laid, + Crying, "Prepare for the great judgment day! + That day which shall thy destiny decide! + + There's no repenting in the gloomy grave, + Nor in that world in which I now exist; + Christ died, that he from hell thy soul might save,-- + Keep his commands, or thou wilt ne'er be blest!" + + Here I should faint, reflecting on my theme, + And recollecting thy great sins now past, + Had not the grace of God, thy passport been, + Had not heaven deign'd to smile on thee at last! + + Hadst thou not given some proof of penitence, + Had I not witness'd oft the bless'd effect, + I might have fear'd, through disobedience, + That Heaven for ever would thy soul reject. + + But Oh, the saving power of grace divine, + Which reach'd the dying thief upon the cross, + Had visited that troubled soul of thine, + Which else had mourn'd its everlasting loss! + + Disrob'd of all his terrors, Death drew nigh,-- + Behind, a band of shining seraphs stood, + He pointed toward the opening sky, + And dipt his dart in the atoning blood! + + His humble victim felt the stingless wound, + And to his God resign'd his fleeting breath; + He view'd Heav'ns portals through the gloom around, + And shouted "Victory!" in the arms of Death! + + Go, blooming youth, and share the rich reward, + Purchas'd for such as thee with blood divine; + Thank God, He ever did thy prayer regard, + And caus'd the light of life on thee to shine! + + May all the household of thy kindred dear, + Hear and regard the caution thou hast given; + Repent, and turn to God, with hearts sincere, + And have, like thee, the earnest of their Heaven! + + May I amidst a world of toil and care, + Still bear in mind my Shepherd's care for me, + Weep o'er my sin, each day for death prepare, + Sigh o'er thy name-stamp'd tool, and think on thee! + + + + +"WHO HATH BELIEVED OUR REPORT?" + + Isaiah liii. 1. + + + "Who hath believed our report?" + The agonizing prophet cried; + Where do the wandering tribes resort, + For whom the King of Glory died? + + His goodness doth before them pass, + The fairest of ten thousand He, + Yet sin bewilders, and alas, + In Him they can no beauty see. + + His Kingly presence they deny, + While round their altars they resort, + Well might the grieved prophet cry, + "Who hath believed our report?" + + "Away with such a one," they cry, + "Let timbrels sound, and damsels sing, + This strange impostor crucify, + For none but Cæsar is our King!" + + Slain in the streets the martyrs lie, + Who strove His kingdom to support, + Well might the trembling prophet cry, + "Who hath believed our report?" + + His ministers to make Him known, + Their time, and strength, and souls devote, + Yet oft in sorrow cry alone, + "Who hath believed our report?" + + All we like sheep have gone astray, + From Him we have our faces hid, + We each have turn'd to his own way, + And done the things that were forbid. + + His faithful servants all day long, + Do to repentance us exhort, + Yet nightly raise the mournful song, + "Who hath believed our report?" + + It was for us He was accused, + Sank under sorrows not His own, + Was buffeted, chastis'd, and bruis'd, + To raise us rebels to a throne. + + The nails, the hammer, and the spear, + And reed, with which His head was smote, + All cry in the deaf sinner's ear, + "Who hath believed our report?" + + Yes! both the pulpit and the press, + The thunder of His power proclaim, + Commend His blood and righteousness, + And offer mercy in His name. + + Yet some are always standing by, + Of holy things to make a sport, + And weeping preachers yet may cry, + "Who hath believed our report?" + + Some have believed this report,-- + To them He hath "His arm reveal'd;" + To Him their lives they now devote, + For "by His stripes their souls are heal'd!" + + And on the last important day, + When all shall be to judgment brought, + Thrice happy those who then can say, + We have believed this report. + + But woe to all ungodly men, + Who wonder how these things can be; + They'll wonder more, and perish then,-- + Too late they will their folly see. + + For them, alas, no joys remain, + The Lord of life will cut them short; + And they shall weep and wish in vain, + They had believed our report! + + + + +THE BEES + + + The Sun throws his ray on the lake, + The vessels are scudding along; + Before half the city's awake, + The air is all action and song! + + The Bees haste away to the moors, + And eager their task to complete, + Extract from the bells of the flowers, + Their delicate essences sweet. + + All cheerful they hurry along, + Their storehouse of food to increase, + Till Death puts an end to their song, + The citizen's table to grace. + + Though few can their weapons withstand, + Or few can their forces defeat, + Yet Death with a torch at command, + Soon makes the wing'd armies retreat. + + At once their anxiety droops, + In the grave they lie silent and still, + While strangers are draining the cup, + They made such exertions to fill. + + O may I be bold as the Bee, + In work of a similar cast, + So faithful, industrious, and free, + And labour, and sing to the last! + + + + +CAUTION FROM LIMBER HILL. + + (_Occasioned by a fall during a frost._) + + + 'Twas a bit gone December, + As I well remember, + I met with a rubber, and got some advice; + What harbour to rest in, + What Friend to put trust in, + And how we may walk with slape shoes upon ice! + + In coming down Limber, + Among the young timber, + My foot slipt, and falling, it was a take in, + The night being darkish, + And we a bit larkish, + Instead of a broom bush, I grasped a whin! + + When my fingers were bleeding, + And pain was succeeding, + It set me a thinking,--of that you'll not doubt; + And but for the blunder, + Which lessen'd the wonder, + I else had been punish'd enough to sing out! + + My views being muddy, + I quickly did study, + What things upon earth to compare with this whin; + After walking around 'em, + I very soon found 'em + To be a false friend, or the pleasures of sin! + + A true Friend is precious, + His favour's delicious, + He'll give you a lift, when he sees you break down; + In conflicts distressing, + You'll find him a blessing, + He'll mark your oppressions, and call them his own! + + But a false Friend will vary, + And vow quite contrary, + His heart to your grief will be hard as a stone; + In sorrow or sickness, + He'll pity your weakness, + But only plant under your pillow a thorn! + + While your money is chinking, + He'll answer you winking, + He'll "_Master_," and "_Sir_" you, and come at your call; + But give him a pincher, + You'll find him a flincher, + Instead of a lift, he will fling you a fall! + + So sin is deceiving, + Bewitching, bereaving; + 'Twill pierce through the heart, and invite you to sing; + 'Twill put on fair faces, + To woo your embraces, + But after you've grasp'd it, there follows a sting! + + + + +THE VILLAGE CHURCH IN RUINS! + + (_A decayed Church, a faithful Minister, a Gospel Sermon, a + cold wind, a rainy day, and ten hearers!_) + + + Alas, for our mother, whom age hath o'ertaken, + Her champions are sleeping beneath the cold sod; + She seems both by lover and friend quite forsaken, + Her total dependance is now on her God! + + By tribute to Cæsar her battlements crumble, + Her grey headed Elders may weep in despair; + Her once lovely fabric's now ready to tumble, + While no one arises her breach to repair! + + Alas, for the spot where our ancestors bended, + In humble devotion, and brotherly love, + Where early petitions like incense ascended, + And blessings in answer came down from above. + + Alas, for that spot where our tribes did assemble, + In youthful succession, both healthy and gay, + Which then did the Temple of Zion resemble,-- + But briers and thorns have now choked up the way. + + The voice of her Elders in prayer seems to falter, + And her bells ring dolefully over her dead, + Her priest may lament from the porch to the altar, + Her pews are deserted, her virgins are fled. + + Among her old timber, the hollow winds whistle, + And carve out a track for the frost or the snow; + Her walls, while they preach her departing epistle, + Are cover'd with gloom, both above and below. + + Dim through her old windows the daylight is peeping, + The damp floor hath driven the hearers away; + A drop through the roof seems as if it were weeping, + To think how her beauty is gone to decay. + + Of her milk and her honey she still might have boasted, + And offer'd to all in abundance, and free, + But her funds by the drones are now nearly exhausted, + In craftily clipping the wings of the Bee. + + Still thanks be to God, the Gospel is publish'd, + With precept on precept, and line upon line; + Still Ten there are found, who come to be furnish'd, + With heav'nly instruction, in lectures divine. + + The Minister boldly the tidings reported, + And wisely distinguish'd the bad from the good; + Of the present or absent who die unconverted, + That worm eaten pulpit is clear of their blood! + + + + +POETICAL REFLECTIONS. + + (_Composed during a visit from the West._) + + + Once more, my muse, resume thy wonted seat, + And ask permission of the wise and great, + To admit, as tribute due, thy warbling song, + In thy own land, and in thy mother tongue. + + Once more the happy region I behold, + Where I have oft experienc'd joys untold; + Where cattle graze, and crystal fountains flow, + And rivers glide, and healthy breezes blow. + + Here my enraptur'd fancy playful roves, + And walks 'mong flowery banks, or shady groves, + Or nimbly climbs the rugged mountain's height, + And views yon plains with ever new delight. + + Sometimes in fertile orchards I attend, + Where mellow fruits the loaded branches bend; + Sometimes I see old Esk in fury roll, + Or fish, or walk, or swim the silent pool. + + Here did I spend the morning of my days, + And learn'd by grace, to walk in wisdom's ways, + Its scenes can court my soul's affections yet, + Their charms are such they cannot be forgot. + + O yes, the cottage once again I see, + Which oft has prov'd a safe retreat for me, + From wintry tempest, or my neighbour's frown, + From piercing frost, or scorching sun at noon: + + Its walls my castle, and its roof a guard, + As from the cloud the forked lightning glared. + Here did I notice first with wond'ring eye, + The rainbow's beauty, and the bright blue sky;-- + + The morning sun, or the pale evening star, + The moon's eclipse, or comet's sign of war! + Here oft our little tribe have muster'd up, + And from each eye have wiped the crystal drop;-- + + Each other cheer'd when dark misfortune frown'd, + As we our little fire have circled round! + What each had read, or heard in times before, + Each eager open'd out his little store;-- + + Of fairy stories, stormy seas, or sands, + Rocks, woods, or caves, or dens in foreign lands, + Enchanted castles, weapons, sceptres, crowns, + Of friars, giants, hermits, smiles and frowns! + + Thus oft our lonely evenings pass'd away, + Till glad we welcom'd in the morning ray;-- + Ours might have been the cottage of content, + But we an absent Father did lament. + + Now wide dispers'd whom nature so endear'd, + No evening song, no conversation's heard! + The garden walls we did so often climb, + Are desolated by the hand of time! + + Oft on yon sunny bank our feet have been, + Or skimm'd the frozen pond upon the green; + Where I may wander now, and sigh alone, + O'er pleasures past, and never to return! + + O Land belov'd! Thou still art dear to me! + I still behold a comeliness in thee, + Which to express I cannot language find, + Nor vent the deep emotions of my mind! + + Though transient joys have ta'en their lasting flight, + In thee I see a permanent delight,-- + A secret sympathy I can't express, + Which seems to feed the flame of happiness! + + But what is best of all, religion thrives, + The desert sings, the work of God revives! + Cold, frozen hearts have felt the melting flame + Of Jesu's love, and spread abroad the same! + + Sing on, ye tribes, sweet peace ye may secure, + Your wants supplied from field and fountain pure; + Live, and enjoy your privilege great, + Nor ever more forget the mercy seat! + + No midnight revels here your door molest, + Nor wild confusion robs you of your rest; + Here you in silence may your eyelids close,-- + On downy pillows find a sweet repose! + + Here broad back'd mountains raise their heads immense, + And rocky bulwarks rise for your defence, + Whose silent caves present sublimer charms, + Than the shrill trumpet, or than war's alarms. + + O happy man, who safe from winter's frown, + Lies anchor'd in a harbour of his own; + He whose chief treasure is a humble mind, + By truth enlighten'd and by grace refined! + + Who suffers not his flock to go astray, + But early learns his tribes to sing and pray; + Though he but little knows of men and things, + Yet having this he needs not envy Kings! + + Bend, O ye kings! and at God's altar bow,-- + Your God hath left a brighter throne for you; + And costlier robes than yours He laid aside, + And in your stead, He suffer'd, bled, and died! + + Be not deceiv'd, ye all must stoop as low + As a poor beggar, Jesu's love to know: + The beggar, or the king, that throne to gain, + Must know what's meant by being "born again!" + + The number of the faithful, Lord, increase, + And fill their habitations with thy peace; + That all may know, e'en husband, child, and wife, + The benefits of a religious life. + + O still ride on, thou mighty matchless King, + Till all thy favour feel, and praises sing;-- + Thy favour, which alone true joy imparts, + Is thy law written on thy people's hearts. + + By thine omnipotence o'ercome thy foes, + And make them dread thy name, and own thy laws; + O let not sin for ever them deceive, + But spare them breath to pray, repent, and live! + + O may my scatter'd tribe thy voice attend, + And with thy ransom'd few their voices blend: + I long to see them with their names enroll'd + Among thy people, in thine earthly fold. + + O God, 'tis thine, I leave the cause with Thee, + To give them ears to hear, and eyes to see, + And hearts to feel;--apply the sprinkled blood, + And purify, and make them sons of God! + + The ties of Friendship cling around my heart, + While I from much lov'd scenes am forced to part, + And leave the beauties of my native home, + With weary step, far o'er yon hills to roam. + + O may I gain a seat on Zion's hill, + Where I no more shall bid my friends farewell; + Nor mix with parting tears the morning dew, + Nor drop my pen, nor sigh my last adieu! + + + + +THE TWO HOURS' TASK! + + (_A congratulatory Address to the Lambs, on their appearance in + Spring._) + + + Welcome, little peaceful strangers, + To your fields and pastures green, + Fearless of surrounding dangers, + Since no dangers you have seen. + + While the sun is on you beaming, + That you may new strength receive, + Sweet new milk is for you streaming, + That you may partake and live. + + Spring, with all her charms, invites you, + Now to taste the tender blade; + Birds are singing to delight you, + Whether in the sun or shade. + + Nature has with gladness crown'd you, + Woodlands echo at your birth, + Spreads a flowery carpet round you, + Bids you walk in freedom forth. + + But beware of your destroyer, + Crafty Reynard stalks the plains, + To your shepherd cleave then closer, + Or he'll drain your little veins. + + In your merry evening gambols, + Of surrounding foes beware, + Also in your distant rambles, + See you wander not too far. + + Fell destruction round you hovers, + Therefore caution don't despise, + Croaking ravens wait in numbers, + To pick out your little eyes. + + Go not forth without your shepherd, + Be not lifted up with pride, + For if peaceful you would slumber, + You must never leave his side. + + Till your strength is perfected, + Keep within your master's ground, + You shall never be neglected, + If you thus are faithful found. + + See yon lamb that now is bleating, + Him misfortune calls its own; + And mark'd out an early victim, + From the flock he strays alone. + + See the little lonely mourner, + Like a bull-rush hangs his head, + Seeks a solitary corner, + And refuses to be fed. + + Life to him appears a burden, + This his wailings testify, + Earth no pleasures can afford him, + He will shortly droop and die. + + Ere he drink the crystal fountain, + Ere he dance the flowery plain, + Ere he bleat on yonder mountain, + He returns to earth again. + + Emblem of that happy infant + Which was born the other day, + But before it knew bereavement, + From the earth was call'd away. + + Call'd to more delightful regions, + Ere he learn'd his mother tongue, + There to speak a purer language, + There to sing a sweeter song. + + On his Lord to wait attendant, + And to sing redeeming love, + Seated on a throne resplendent, + In a brighter world above. + + Cheerful lambs around us caper, + Woodland songsters hail the morn; + But frail man is doom'd to labour, + Weep, and sweat, and sigh, and mourn. + + Yet there is a higher station, + Man is born for nobler joys, + If he seeks and finds salvation, + He shall sing above the skies. + + Though he be a fallen creature, + Subject here to droop and die, + The "Lamb of God" can change his nature, + And take all his sins away! + + + + +THE COUNTRY BLUNDER! + + + Some lines which I have lately penn'd + May prove a caution to a friend; + Indeed as such they are intended, + And to my friends are recommended. + + But some, though caution'd night and morn, + Will not take heed, howe'er we warn, + But still to make their neighbours fun, + Will obstinately blunder on. + + A servant man in Glazedale glen, + Did lately shoot a fine pea-hen: + Taking her for a pheasant good, + Lately stray'd from the neighb'ring wood. + + But had he studied well the season, + He might have found sufficient reason, + To have convinc'd him, there and then, + 'Twas neither pheasant, cock nor hen! + + For is it common thus to see, + Where there is neither bush nor tree, + A pheasant pick, in open day?-- + Much more upon the King's highway? + + To view her well he did not fail, + Her rosy comb, and fine long tail, + And call'd her without more ado, + A pheasant,--and a fine one too! + + But beast, or bird, it makes no matter, + He takes his gun and jingles at her; + And ere that bird his mercy begs, + She tumbles down, with broken legs! + + He then did speedily run out, + And twin'd her slender neck about, + With pleasure sparkling in his eyes, + Thinking he'd got a famous prize! + + But one whose senses were awake, + Did soon point out his sad mistake; + His countenance did alter, when + He found it was a fine _pea-hen_! + + He thought his neighbours then would scoff, + And poets soon would take him off; + Too late he wish'd and strove in vain, + To bring his hen to life again! + + Ye poachers all, both young and old, + If you don't think my pen too bold;-- + Or may I say, kind gentlemen,-- + Take warning by this same pea-hen! + + Mind well what creatures you abuse; + They all were given by God for use:-- + Lest you should make your neighbours fun, + Look well before you point your gun! + + Or you by chance may shoot a horse;-- + The other's bad,--this would be worse: + Yet such a thing was lately done, + And by a badly managed gun! + + The thorns or thistles, stones or whins, + May prick your legs, or break your shins; + Yet those who'd buy instruction cheap, + Should always "look before they leap!" + + If still my counsel you disdain, + I may hereafter write again; + And should you not mind what you do, + I may inform of some of you! + + + + +A SINNER SAVED BY GRACE. + + + Come, fellow sinner, lend an ear, + And listen while I now declare + What God hath done for me; + His word hath broke my stony heart, + My soul hath felt the piercing smart, + Of guilt and misery! + + Long time I went about distress'd, + Nor day nor night could I find rest, + Till I his voice did hear, + Till I beheld Him on the Cross;-- + My soul did then her burden lose, + And all its slavish fear! + + To Him who doth my foes controul, + I look'd and He hath heal'd my soul, + And all my sins forgiven: + Hence may I turn my feeble sight + To yonder realms of peace and light, + And live and die for Heaven! + + Oh hasten, sinners, to be wise; + While Jesu's mercy loudly cries, + Do you salvation take;-- + But if you're stubborn to the last, + Then be assur'd you will be cast, + Into the burning lake! + + Say you, "Where shall we find the Lord, + According to his Holy Word, + To heal our wounded mind? + While some say here, and others there, + We long to see the temple where + We may salvation find!" + + Wherever two or three are met, + Whose faces Zion ward are set, + He's promis'd there to be; + O seek the Lord without delay, + And cry for mercy night and day, + Till you're from sin set free! + + When you by grace are born again, + Then publish to the sons of men, + That you this path have trod; + That others may for mercy cry, + And saints may lift their voices high, + And glorify their God! + + + + +THE PORTION OF THE JUST. + + + How blessed a thing Hallelujah to sing, + When time shall with us be no more:-- + At the Judge's right hand all the faithful shall stand, + His goodness to see and adore! + + In that heavenly place in the light of his face, + They in mansions of glory shall dwell; + No more the big tear on their face shall appear, + For to sorrow they've bid a Farewell! + + Above and below rich clusters do grow, + Of the grapes of that Canaan so pure; + His welcome so sweet makes the banquet complete, + And they sing of His mercy secure! + + Death vanquish'd, they sing, and spoil'd of his sting, + Of Hell conquer'd by Christ from above; + On the plains of delight with thousands in white, + They shall walk and converse of His love! + + But the wicked, alas, when their sentence shall pass, + Shall at once into darkness be driven, + Fierce pains to endure with spirits impure, + Who were hurl'd from their places in heaven! + + Oh, if thou dost crave above all things to have + A seat with thy Saviour divine, + No longer delay, nor rest night nor day, + Till a scriptural title is thine! + + + + +THE HAPPY CHOICE! + + + Jesus! thy name to me hath charms, + Outvieing all beneath the sun; + Thy secret love my bosom warms, + And in my soul 'tis heav'n begun! + + No peace like that thy presence brings, + No joys like those thou dost impart; + Anon, with healing in thy wings, + Thou com'st to heal the broken heart! + + Thy footsteps may I always see, + Under thy shadow may I dwell! + I give my life, my all to thee, + And triumph o'er the powers of Hell! + + Thou dost my soul with rapture fill, + No more for mammon I contend; + I glory in the joys I feel, + While thou dost comfort and defend! + + O let thy name be always sweet + As honey, from the rock, that flows; + So shall I gladly turn my feet, + Where'er my blessed Master goes! + + + + +ON THE DEATH OF JOHN MORLEY. + + + "Heard you that groan? 'Twas from a dying man! + A man just gone into Eternity!" + "Redeem thy time! Thy life is but a span!" + That language,--Hark! It speaks to you and me! + + A man of health, and strength, and spirits gay, + The solemn call seem'd distant to his view; + But, lo, how soon the victim's snatch'd away + By Death's rude hand, and bids the world adieu! + + Fearless of danger, he, twelve days before, + Went to the field to share the common lot, + With the sharp scythe to cut the grass or flower, + But, ah, the secret lesson he forgot! + + "_All flesh_ is grass, or like the flowery field, + So soon 'tis faded, wither'd, or cut down; + To time's embrace its charms are forc'd to yield, + The winds pass over it, and it is gone!" + + When heated by the sun's meridian ray, + And parch'd with thirst, to drink he felt inclin'd, + Dropping his scythe, poor Morley took his way, + In hopes some cool, refreshing stream to find! + + To yonder river to receive his death, + With sweat, like dewdrops, hanging on his brow, + He hastes--nor thinks he must resign his breath, + And to the lonely church-yard shortly go! + + Thus bathed in sweat the river's bank he gains, + And drinks, and washes in the crystal flood; + When lo! an icy coldness chills his veins, + Affects his senses, and inflames his blood! + + He medical assistance quickly sought, + Excessive pain depriv'd his eyes of sleep; + Physicians soon their powerful medicines brought, + But ah! the fatal dart had pierc'd too deep! + + The fever rages, not a limb is free, + It mocks the power of remedies applied; + Friends weep, and wish for his recovery;-- + Alas! their warmest wishes are denied. + + His fate seems hard, but yet Heav'n sees it fit, + And Heaven's will is best, we must agree;-- + Sooner or later we must all submit + To Death's loud call,--to nature's stern decree! + + The surgeon blushes while his patient bleeds, + All hope soon vanishes of life below; + With hasty step the monster Death proceeds, + Lifts his fell dart, and strikes the fatal blow! + + His wife distracted doth her loss deplore, + His children weep as though their hearts would break; + They shrieking cry, "Our father is no more! + O where shall we our lonely refuge seek? + + Where shall we find so true, so kind a friend? + Where shall we find a sharer in our grief? + Where shall we find a Father to attend,-- + To wipe our tears, or point us to relief?" + + O haste! O haste! the house of prayer attend, + And plead your cause, bow'd at your Saviour's feet; + To Heaven daily let your prayers ascend, + And there a Friend, and Father you shall meet! + + Poor Morley's dead! the startled village cries! + His wife, a widow, has in tears to grieve! + While he, outstretched, now pale and silent lies, + Nor tongue, nor eye, nor hand a motion give! + + No more his whistle echo's through the grove, + Nor clashing gates pursue his loaded steed; + No more he through the fields doth rove, + To play the flute, or blow the rustic reed! + + No more the rolling flood's at his controul, + Nor willing servant runs when he shall bid; + But mournfully I hear the death bell toll, + To hail him welcome to his lonely bed! + + But Oh, the soul! That ever during spark, + Kindled in him by the Almighty's breath, + Still lives, though we her passage cannot mark!-- + She lives, though she hath pass'd the vale of death! + + Where has she fled? What is her portion now, + While I upon his death thus meditate? + 'Tis mystery this we mortals must not know,-- + And cries, "Prepare ye, for a future state!" + + Her portion's that for which she was prepar'd;-- + Though suddenly remov'd from earth below, + No more can she reject her just reward, + She shares eternal happiness, or woe! + + To trace her flight might but insult her King, + Since He for guilty sinners once did bleed!-- + The muse in silence drops her feeble wing, + Refusing any further to proceed! + + + + +THE SERVANT'S ADDRESS TO HIS MASTER; + + _On deriding him for becoming a Methodist!_ + + + Master, I beg you'll pardon, while I speak, + The liberty I now presume to take; + And trust the brief apology you'll hear, + Will please, if you will please to lend an ear. + + "Wilt thou forsake the Church?" did you not say? + "And strive to get to Heaven some nearer way? + A better way perhaps by you believ'd:-- + But 'twill be well if you are not deceiv'd?" + + Deceiv'd, or not, we are resolv'd to go; + If Christ be with us, all is well we know! + He is our Leader, He marks out the way, + Inviting all to come, and none to stay! + + The Church, or doctrine, we've no cause to blame, + 'Tis to ourselves that we ascribe the shame! + The way to heav'n was certainly made plain, + When told to "run so that we might obtain." + + Our prayers and praises were so faint and few, + We thought one day in seven would surely do, + To praise Him who is worthy of more praise, + Than our best powers are qualified to raise! + + Oft when we did approach the throne of grace, + Our hearts and thoughts were in some other place. + O shameful truth! And yet it is most true! + But conscience told us this would never do! + + The nearest way to Heaven that we can go, + Is cleaving close to Christ while here below; + 'Tis He that can our sinking footsteps stay, + And vain the man who seeks another way! + + The man who truly has this race begun, + Will see no time to stand, but strive to run; + The night is coming, and will soon be here, + He'll therefore oft betake himself to prayer: + + Lest strength should fail, or he should grow luke-warm, + And his weak soul, the enemy disarm! + That Book declares, whose Author is "The Truth," + The careless soul, "He'll spew out of his mouth!" + + Hence, doth he see he must be cold or hot; + Must either have the Spirit of Christ, or not:-- + If on examination he lacks this, + God's Book declares that "he is none of His!" + + If not a child of God, a child of hell, + And dying thus, he must with devils dwell;-- + And when his earthly hopes have taken flight, + Be then shut up in everlasting night! + + A sinner when he sees himself aright, + Sees that his brightest day is turned to night; + The things that once were his delight and joy, + Do all his fondest hopes at once destroy! + + God's Book like Sinai's mount to him appears, + Its sentences like thunder stun his ears! + He strives to soothe himself, but strives in vain, + Till God, to him the secret doth explain. + + He sees and feels the awful load of sin, + Nor can aught ease the grief that he is in, + Until he hears God's cheering, still small voice, + Which calms his fears, and bids his soul rejoice! + + A man must know his sins on earth forgiven, + Or he'll not read his title clear for Heaven; + If this you think too strong to be believ'd, + I'm sure, in death, that you will be deceiv'd! + + I am resolv'd a pilgrim now to be, + Let worldly men say what they will of me; + And through the grace of God, though Hell resist, + I'll live and die a faithful Methodist! + + I see the pilgrim's life is far the best, + Scorn'd by the world, but yet by Jesus blest! + When death shall come, the Heav'nly land in view, + In peace, I'll bid this world of sin Adieu! + + + + +SABBATH MORNING MUSINGS. + + "_I was glad when they said unto me, Let us go into the house + of the Lord._" Psalm. cxxii. 1. + + + How do I love thy courts, O Lord! + What glories they unfold: + The joys they do to me afford, + More precious are than gold! + + The very gates through which I pass, + Are beautiful to me! + What numbers here beneath the grass, + In silent slumber lie! + + While I approach this solemn ground, + My thoughts I will controul;-- + The tolling bell, with mournful sound, + Affects my inmost soul! + + While musing o'er the silent dead, + What wonders do I see! + The very dust on which I tread, + Once liv'd, and mov'd like me! + + Here things mysterious I perceive, + Things which I can't explain;-- + Wak'd by that voice which Heav'n shall give, + This dust shall "rise again!" + + Then some to everlasting life, + Exultingly shall rise; + While some to everlasting death, + Shall go with weeping eyes! + + Such as we sow, that shall we reap; + The sowing time is now:-- + O may I watch, and faithful, keep + My station at the plough! + + O what's this world with all its joys, + But a delusive dream; + The dead, as speaking witnesses, + All testify the same. + + They preach in lectures loud and plain, + Though silent, cold, and deep; + They tell me, if the earth remain, + I soon like them shall sleep! + + They cry to all, "Repent, believe, + And you shall pardon'd be; + Unless that blessing you receive, + You're lost eternally!" + + The dial faithful to its task, + The sun in yonder sky, + Both show to us without a mask, + How swift the moments fly! + + "Redeem thy time!" they seem to say, + "Thy life is but a span; + For what are three score years and ten? + And that's the age of man!" + + Here on a level all are laid, + Here none the conquest have! + The robes that once the rich array'd, + Are tarnish'd by the grave! + + The cheek which blossom'd like the rose, + Has lost its lovely charms; + That beauteous form the lover chose, + Is clasp'd in Death's cold arms. + + All earthly hopes, and earthly joys, + And prospects must decay;-- + But they who serve their God aright, + Shall live in endless day! + + How wondrously the scene is chang'd! + How lovely they appear! + I view them in their state arrang'd, + With more delight than fear! + + Ah! once the scene was not so fair, + I scarce could read a stone! + But grace can conquer slavish fear,-- + With joy I look thereon! + + The opening grave oft spoil'd the hinge, + On which my fancy play'd; + The skulls and bones would make me cringe, + While I their forms survey'd. + + Chill horror used to haunt my breast, + While sin therein remain'd;-- + But Jesu's name be ever blest, + I have his favour gain'd! + + 'Tis faith perfumes destruction's breath, + Our Jesu's strong to save; + 'Tis faith removes the sting of death, + The terrors of the grave! + + How oft have I in giddy maze, + This sacred passage trod! + Not thinking 'twas so pure a place, + Much less the house of God! + + His mercy doth preserve me still, + He doth not always chide; + But waits that all His love may feel, + Since he for all hath died. + + Behind some lofty pillar here, + In silence let me steal; + And tread His courts with humble fear, + And low before him kneel. + + With fearful, trembling, broken heart, + To him I lift mine eyes; + And wait till He his love impart, + And conscience bid me rise! + + Then will I praise Thee, O my God, + When in my heart it glows! + And gladly wait to hear thy Word, + And catch it as it flows! + + Then may I keep thy sabbaths pure, + And still thy house attend; + Until that sabbath shall commence, + Which never hath an end! + + + + +LINES ON LEAVING FRYUP, IN SEARCH OF WORK. + + + I'm sorry, Fryup! thee to leave, + But thou deniest what I crave, + Though I have ask'd with tears! + Oft have I drunk at thy pure rills, + And labour'd 'mongst thy moorland hills, + For many toilsome years! + + 'Twas oft to me a painful task, + Thine aid in time of need to ask, + So often sought before; + And many times my small demand, + Was torn, as with a trembling hand, + Reluctant from thy store! + + Oft have I rang'd thy verdant woods, + Where roses bursting from their buds, + Have struck my wondering eye! + And oft have I thy woodbines cropt:-- + While from my hand the sweet flowers dropt, + I've thought,--I too must die! + + Here, with each morning's early dawn, + I lov'd to walk the flowery lawn, + To hear thy warblers sing! + Or when at eve their songs were mute, + I've sooth'd my fancy with my flute, + And made thy woodlands ring! + + I've seen thy mountains clad with snow, + While shelter'd in the vale below, + 'Midst hospitable friends! + For all their kindnesses to me, + May Heav'n bless every family, + And make them full amends! + + But trade is now so dull and dead, + A man can hardly earn his bread, + In winter's frost and snow: + So I must take my staff in hand, + And travel to some distant land, + Till here more plenty grow! + + I grieve to leave the Sunday School, + Where I with gratitude of soul, + Have taught with great delight, + The youthful, rising sons of men, + To steer safe past the gulf of sin, + By glorious gospel light. + + With men of understanding heart, + I always joy'd to act my part, + Where I may teach no more:-- + Where I, myself have oft been taught, + And blessings gain'd beyond my thought, + From Heaven's bounteous store! + + As when the sailor points the keel, + For ancient Greenland's icy field, + So I my course must steer! + I need assistance at the helm, + Lest life's rough sea should overwhelm + My soul,--no harbour near! + + For quicksands and contrary winds, + And enemies as well as friends, + I still expect to find: + There is a Friend who lives above, + To all who do His precepts love, + He proves both true and kind! + + To Him I will address my prayer; + My little bark unto His care, + With confidence I'll trust! + A steady course, O may I steer, + And if to Him I prove sincere, + He'll land me safe at last! + + + + +THE SWALLOW! + + (_On being deprived of her nest by some Sparrows._) + + + A Swallow one evening was sweeping along, + 'Mongst such as against her were spiteful, + An impudent Sparrow requested a song, + Affirming her voice was delightful! + The innocent Swallow consented, + But afterwards sadly repented; + For the nest she had been at such pains to erect, + She was soon from enjoying prevented! + + To the ridge of the barn they hurried along, + As fast as their feathers could speed them, + Where she tweedled and sung, in her African tongue, + Her favourite anthem on Freedom! + While she was this Sparrow amusing, + The rest were her labours abusing;-- + They had taken possession both of garret and floor, + And were in her best chamber carousing! + + When the Sparrow beheld by the flood in her eye, + How much this bad treatment did grieve her, + With contempt in his manner he bade her good by + Nor pitied, nor tried to relieve her! + Still her sweet little song did not alter, + Her delicate voice did not falter; + But she tweedled and sung what was next to be done, + As though she alone was the faulter! + + Reproving the Sparrows she then seem'd to say, + "To you we are surely no strangers; + To pay you this visit, in crossing the sea,-- + We encounter a great many dangers. + O Sparrows! why have you betray'd us? + 'Tis cruelty thus to invade us! + We bring summer with us, take nothing away, + O Sparrows! why have you betray'd us?" + + + + +A CALL TO THE CARELESS! + + + Awake! O ye sleepers, awake! + Or soon you will smart 'neath the rod! + Be thankful you're not in the lake, + That burns with the anger of God! + + Your life as a vapour will prove, + Your days as a shadow will flee; + Then seek to have treasure above, + And struggle from sin to be free! + + O sinners! be honest and yield + To the Spirit of God when He strives; + Or you will be slain in the field, + When He with His army arrives! + + This Jesus shall conquer the world! + The proud and the lofty subdue! + With terrible banners unfurl'd, + Shall sift both believers and you:-- + + The poor, not because he is poor, + Nor the rich for his riches regard; + But thoroughly purging His floor, + Appoint unto each his reward! + + Believers! who wish to be whole;-- + A fountain long open hath been, + To wash out the spots of the soul,-- + O hasten to wash and be clean! + + When sin shall experience its death, + Then you the grand secret shall know; + Shall Heaven enjoy upon Earth, + And be happy and useful below! + + + + +TO A HORSE, DYING ALONE! + + + Poor, hapless beast, thus left by all below, + Amongst the noblest of God's creatures, thou, + Once free from pain, + Didst trip the plain; + But Oh! how much thy case is alter'd now! + + Thy groom and master seem to stand aloof! + Is it, because of thee they've had enough? + Is it respect, + Or sheer neglect, + That of their care thou hast no stronger proof? + + Perhaps they do not like to hear or see + Thy last deep groan, thy dying agony! + The grass upspurn'd, + Thine eye upturn'd, + Bespeak its weight to heedless passers by! + + That hoarse deep sigh, the sad effect of sin, + Proclaims the depth of agony within! + On man and beast, + Greatest and least, + Grim Death doth feed, and glad his victim win! + + The blue shade gathers on thy glassy eye, + So sternly fix'd upon the evening sky; + Once full of light, + Through darkest night, + It proved its master's guide to home and family! + + Thy lovely form, once beauteous to behold, + For which thy master parted with his gold; + And this thy dappled hide, + Though once its owner's pride, + Now for a thing of nought will soon be sold! + + That ear through which the slightest sound inspir'd + Vigour, when pressing business oft requir'd; + Already cold as clay, + Doth now inactive lay, + Nor startles at that gun which now is fired! + + Thy frolics and thy gambols now are past, + Thy last stage is run;--thou art dying fast: + Perhaps ere I, + At home shall be, + Thou unattended wilt have breath'd thy last! + + The stall is vacant where thou lov'dst to be, + The curb and saddle now are nought to thee! + The whip and spur, + Thou car'st not for, + But leav'st to others as thy legacy! + + While I string up my rhymes to make them chord, + And thus thy melancholy fate record, + Perhaps near thee, + In some old tree, + The lonely night bird sings thy funeral ode! + + +MORAL. + + Some while their cup is full can laugh at Death, + And light esteem that power which lends them breath; + But be that far, + As yon pale star, + From him who now its progress witnesseth! + + Did men but see how near is his approach, + They would with morning sun, or nightly torch, + Themselves prepare, + And search with care, + And strictly watch each avenue and porch! + + Nor would they rest, at business or in bed, + Till every foe was found, and captive led; + Till all the soul, + From stains most foul, + Was wash'd, or till the contrite tear was shed! + + A fountain from the mount of God doth flow, + For all who will take time and pains to go, + Whose healing stream, + Doth freely teem, + To wash polluted sinners white as snow! + + A soul thus wash'd shall joyful rise again, + By Death unscar'd, and on angelic wing, + Shall mount above, + To Him whose love + And power deprive the monster of his sting! + + + + +MUSINGS DURING AFFLICTION; + +OR + +THE SEARCH AFTER HAPPINESS. + + "_He shall fly away as a dream._" (Job. xx. 8.) + + + While here I sit musing alone, + Not sharing the toils of the day, + My spirit doth inwardly groan, + At the symptoms I feel of decay. + + My care burden'd mind can't be still, + Though the external fabric be maim'd; + Some part must be working the will + Of Him who that fabric hath framed. + + The merchant looks over his books, + And hopes well to finish the day; + So life hath some corners and nooks, + It might not be wrong to survey. + + If the morning of life we behold, + When all seems delightful and bright, + The rosebud doth scarcely unfold, + But 'tis gone as a dream of the night! + + If to youth our attention we turn, + When all is enchanting and free; + When very few know how to mourn, + And all things seem pleasant and gay. + + A something we sought in the fields,-- + Alas! as oft sought it in vain! + The joys that such scenery yields, + Are such as we cannot retain. + + We sought in the meadows and groves, + In the woods, by the rivers and streams; + But all our vain hopes and our loves, + Were like wood to the furnace's flames! + + The old pathway still puts us in mind, + Though its stones are forsaken and green, + Of youthful affections, so kind, + Though now scarce a vestige is seen! + + We long have been wandering abroad, + And have learn'd to sorrow and weep; + While some have been lost on the road, + And others have sunk in the deep! + + In the fire-side circle we sought, + But found by the glimmering light, + That soon as the shadows we caught; + They fled like a dream of the night! + + There were some whom we knew in the flesh, + Seem'd happy, and healthy, and strong; + But before they obtain'd their wish, + They, alas! in a moment were gone! + + 'Twas gloomy and dark at their end, + No light in their death did appear; + That happiness would them attend, + Was hoped--but hope turn'd to despair! + + Alas! how neglectful they lived, + How sad an example they set, + How many fair youths were deceiv'd, + Who are not yet free from the net! + + They surely had time to repent, + To weep, and to sorrow, and pray; + But time that should thus have been spent, + Was wantonly squander'd away. + + They quick were cut off at a stroke, + Were hurried away from our sight; + The bonds of their friendship all broke, + They fled like a dream of the night. + + Though long in the grave they have lain, + And long since have gone to decay, + Remembrance can raise them again, + As fresh as they were in life's day. + + We remember the look of the face, + The language that glanc'd from the eye, + The cough, or the laugh, or some grace, + By which we their forms can descry. + + How short our acquaintance appears, + Our pleasures, how swift was their flight! + Before we could number their years, + They fled as a dream of the night! + + In manhood we sought it abroad, + And mix'd with the mirthful and gay, + When liberty lengthen'd the cord, + And tempted our feet far astray. + + Then away to the races and fairs, + When seasons and friends did invite; + To the shows, to the stalls, and their wares, + And to music and dancing at night! + + We sought it by land and by sea,-- + Where'er we directed our eyes, + All said, "Pleasure is not in me! + My beauty is all a disguise!" + + O Happiness! where dost thou dwell? + O where shall we search with success? + From the court to the cottage or cell, + All seem the abodes of distress! + + Oft have we reflected with pain, + And fancied while counting the cost, + If restor'd to childhood again, + We'd recover the thing we had lost. + + Then happiness seem'd to be ours,-- + We roved by the river or glen; + The birds, and the bushes, and flowers, + Appear'd as a paradise then! + + Yon hill, and the stone on the plain, + Remind us whenever we pass, + Where we in a fairy-like train, + Have scamper'd about on the grass! + + Gone by are our childhood and youth, + And gone is each transient delight; + They told us,--who told us the truth,-- + They'd pass as a dream of the night. + + By the faithful discourse of a friend, + We were told, whether cloudy or bright, + This life, long or short, in the end, + Would depart as a dream of the night:-- + + That in vain among shadows and flowers, + We sought satisfaction within; + True pleasure could never be ours, + Till the heart had been broken for sin + + The heart, until such was the case, + Was so puff'd up with pride and deceit, + That no matter how splendid the feast, + That root bitter'd every thing sweet! + + He would prove by the sacred page, + And by men of experience too, + It had been so in every age, + And continues so, even till now! + + Until sin was expos'd to the light, + In the glass of the Gospel was view'd, + We could not enjoy true delight,-- + Till the heart had been chang'd and renew'd. + + Nor need we now ask any more, + Why a thing which so many pursue, + And to gain will all things explore, + Should be truly possess'd by so few. + + In all earth's extensive domain, + 'Midst all the sweet breezes that blow, + In mountain, or forest, or plain, + Where Eden like luxuries grow;-- + + Amid all the fair branches and free, + Inviting their clusters to share, + One tree, and only one tree, + This heav'nly manna will bear. + + That tree of celestial seed, + By heav'nly culture doth rise;-- + That man from his sins might be freed, + 'Twas sent as a gift from the skies! + + But many the tree did deride, + And oft of its fruit did complain, + Since to gain it they often had tried, + But return'd to their folly again! + + They made it a matter of doubt, + That it had been planted for them:-- + Repentance, and Faith were the root, + And Holiness grew on the stem! + + Some as they pass'd by gave a glance, + Made remark on the wilderness bare; + And affirm'd with eye all askance, + No semblance of beauty was there. + + Though to plant it the Saviour of men + Hath sorrow'd, and suffer'd, and bled; + And His Spirit pour'd out as a stream, + Hath His heav'nly influence shed. + + You see, when the secret is told, + And the riddle's expounded to all, + It was planted in Eden of old, + But had been torn up by the fall! + + So Christ hath in love to His church, + Thus rear'd this plant of renown, + To screen when the sun's rays might scorch, + And to cheer when our spirits are down. + + Whoe'er of its produce partakes, + Whatever objections arise, + Through the Cross, and the choice that he makes, + Shall be holy, and happy, and wise! + + Then we to His temple shall run, + And worship with joy and delight; + Our trials while under the sun, + Will pass as a dream of the night! + + + + +THE PLAY! + + On being solicited to attend a Theatre, by two young women, who + urged their entreaties by the argument, "There is no harm in + attending the Play!" + + + Ye daughters of Albion's flourishing isle, + Come listen awhile to my lay; + Defending your morals, you say with a smile, + "There's no harm in attending the Play!" + + Ye Theatre gallants, and deep witted men, + Whose counsels so many obey, + Come lend a poor ignorant rustic a pen, + And he'll help you to plead for the Play! + + If you are not immortal, but end when you die, + As some have the courage to say, + Why need you look out for a mansion on high, + You've nothing to fear from the Play! + + If you are immortal, yet free from the fall, + And never have wander'd astray; + If you have no sin to repent of at all, + You've nothing to fear from the Play! + + If Christ in His word, has left no command, + For people to watch and to pray, + If an house cannot fall that is built on the sand, + There's no harm in attending the Play! + + Not calling in question your baptismal vow, + If life's like a long summer's day, + And you have not to reap such fruit as ye sow, + There's no harm in attending the Play! + + If the Christian's creed from the truth be reverse, + And the fair crown of life can decay; + If the Bible be false, and Religion a farce, + There's no harm in attending the Play! + + Should a visit from Death come and put you in mind + Of your frail habitation of clay, + You may try to obstruct the unwelcome design, + With the transient delights of the Play! + + If a faithful reproof you should happen to meet, + You can soon turn your faces away, + And pass by the blind and the lame in the street, + And carry your cash to the Play! + + But if Parsons themselves so often attend, + Then surely their followers may; + And no wonder that they so well can defend, + The moral effects of the Play. + + If Wesley and Whitfield have pleaded in vain, + And led their disciples astray; + Let Simpson and Hervey in silence remain, + You've nothing to fear from the Play. + + If you of your time have to give no account, + At the last, the great Judgment day, + The troubles of life you may quickly surmount, + By clapping them off at the Play. + + If safe 'midst seduction and ruin you roam, + You may laugh at the stoppers away, + Who sit pining and pulling long faces at home, + And are missing the joys of the Play. + + Should the roof be crush'd in, and you kill'd we'll suppose, + Why some angel would bear you away, + To some distant region of milder repose, + Where your spirit might dream of the Play. + + Having no tribulation, no robe wash'd in blood, + Nor tears that need wiping away, + You might sing in those realms to the praise of your god, + How oft you had been at the Play. + + + + +THE REMOTE CHRISTIAN. + + + Deep in a glen, remote and wild, + And far from affluence, + A cottage stood, and heaven smil'd, + Upon that residence. + + A couple liv'd there many years, + In love and unity; + Who careful in this vale of tears, + Had rear'd a family. + + No costly goods their cot adorn, + No shining liveries wait; + For them no huntsman sounds his horn, + No carriage at the gate. + + A simple, honest peasant, free, + Not with much learning stored; + Though thus remote, yet happily, + Had sought and found the Lord. + + Where neither moth nor rust can harm, + Nor thieves can ere invade, + Beyond the reach of human arm, + Was his heart's treasure laid. + + Around his farm, or in his field, + The moor birds hatch'd and fed; + And when at work, the lapwing cried, + And flutter'd o'er his head. + + While thus his little field he drain'd, + Or temper'd the wild sod, + His household too with care were train'd, + To love and fear their God. + + The field, the garden, and the tree, + For him their produce bore, + His table too, the bee supplied, + From her delicious store. + + The Lord who thus his substance blest, + Did all his wants supply; + And pleasantly to quench his thirst, + A brook ran murmuring by. + + I saw him on his dying bed, + When strength began to fail, + I saw him lift his languid head,-- + And heard his happy tale. + + He then began to bless the day, + His sins had been made known, + When he began to weep and pray, + And look'd to Christ alone. + + He bless'd that Book his heart had cheer'd, + And tried its worth to tell; + He bles'd that Blood which once was shed, + To save his soul from hell. + + Yes! Christ to him was precious then, + His company was sweet; + He said, His love was in his heart, + The world beneath his feet. + + This, when the monster Death arriv'd, + Did solid comfort bring; + That blood he felt had quite depriv'd + The monster of his sting. + + "This body chang'd, shall soon," said he, + "With saints and angels join, + And sing to all eternity, + The depths of Love Divine!" + + + + +SOLITARY REFLECTIONS! + + (_Occasioned by the death of a newly married pair, who drowned + themselves, after living together three weeks._) + + + On Esk's old bank the watery willows weep, + Where wife and husband launch'd into the deep;-- + And from their cottage sought an early grave, + To end their jarring, in the peaceful wave + + Ah, hapless pair! who can withhold the tear, + When he the melancholy place draws near! + The dire event to future times will prove, + The short enjoyment of your wedded love! + + How apt are earthly prospects to deceive, + And leave her disappointed sons to grieve! + How oft will trifling things the mind perplex, + Where grace doth not her influences mix! + + The morning shines,--to church they haste away, + And noisy guns proclaim the wedding day; + Within three weeks to the dark grave they're borne, + To slumber till the Resurrection morn! + + Around, the neighbours mourn their hapless lot, + And weeping children haunt the dreary spot; + The lippering wave, rais'd by the nightly gale, + Tells to the Moon her melancholy tale! + + + + +ON SOME WHO HAD LEFT US, AND SPOKEN DISRESPECTFULLY OF US! + + "_There is a generation that are pure in their own eyes, and + yet is not washed from their filthiness._" (Proverbs xxx. 12.) + + + Yes! once they met with us, and gave us the hand, + Uniting to sing and to pray; + But long could not bear the rigid command, + So off they went lilting away! + + Forsaking the vulgar, whom now they despise, + For doctrines more learned and pure;-- + This cutting off hands, and plucking out eyes, + This doctrine they could not endure! + + They speak of perfection, but oft with disdain, + Our faults and our failings expose; + Because this perfection they cannot attain, + They'll plead for their muffs and their boas! + + So lofty their eyelids, so lofty their looks, + They'll laugh at a sinner in tears; + Their prayers are lock'd up in their finely bound books, + While they're trimming their necks and their ears! + + The new birth's convulsions they cannot have felt, + Or they dare not speak as they do; + Their heart is too proud into nothing to melt, + And must, while to mammon they bow. + + Whenever their dwelling you chance to approach, + Of their soft invitation beware; + The pharisee's leaven, the good man's reproach, + And the seat of the scorner are there! + + To folks of high breeding they offer their pledge, + 'Gainst others to raise a complaint; + They'll skim on the surface, and trim off the edge, + To pass for a dignified saint! + + The God of Elijah who sees through the heart, + These specious impostors will spurn, + And send them in spite of their cunning and art, + Where they will eternally mourn! + + + + +THERE IS A GOD! + + "_The fool hath said in his heart, There is no God._" (Psalm + xiv. 1) + + + There is a God who rules above! + And man's the object of His love! + And Jesus, His beloved Son, + Hath bled, and died to make this known. + + Though man his attributes deny, + And utter daring blasphemy, + He shall be conquer'd from above, + By Justice, Judgment, or by Love. + + Though he be lusty now, and strong, + And bold in ribaldry and song, + A time will come when he must flit, + And to a stronger arm submit. + + Then Death will disregard his groans, + And time will melt his giant bones, + If no contrition he shall feel, + His sins will sink him into hell. + + While there he drinks the bitter cup, + The dust shall lick his marrow up; + His tongue within the grave shall rot, + While name and memory are forgot. + + On that dread morn when all shall rise, + The righteous whom he did despise, + Shall over him dominion have, + And all the terrors of the grave. + + + + +CONFIRMATION. + + + The stars recede, the morn appears, + So long anticipated! + The air which now the spirit cheers, + With shouts is agitated! + + The rustics full of mirth and glee, + Are big with expectation, + Of what they are to hear and see, + When they're at Confirmation! + + The road is fill'd from side to side, + With bonny lads and lasses; + With country bloom, and village pride, + Gigs, horses, mules, and asses! + + With whip and spur, they dash along, + As though to fair or races; + With artificial feathers hung, + And veils before their faces! + + But few know what they're going to do, + Or they are strangely lied on; + They're careless of the solemn vow, + As is the steed they ride on! + + They go, because their neighbours go, + Without consideration; + And think all pass for Christians, who + Are pass'd at Confirmation! + + A few there are, but few we fear, + Their faith by works expressing; + And oft in private on their knees, + They wrestle for a blessing! + + The greater part of them by far, + Will carry a Cain's offering; + They're strangers to the morning star, + To royal David's offspring! + + A hope they have, but cannot tell + On what that hope is grounded;-- + Thus like some old Egyptian spell, + It cannot be expounded! + + The carnal mind still bears the sway, + For want of resolution; + And scatter'd tribes, still day by day, + Profane the institution! + + In spite of lectures orthodox, + Of Bishops, prayers, and caution, + They, greedy as the thirsty ox, + Drink in the deadly potion! + + The scribes may write with mournful pen, + The Church's lamentation; + While year by year, they seek in vain, + The fruits of Confirmation! + + + + +THE MAN OF THE WORLD! + + + From a boy much indulg'd, he grew up to a man, + And had liberty almost unbounded; + Nor scarce ever thought of this life's little span, + With prospects of plenty surrounded! + + His steed, like himself, in high spirits he views, + As it snuffs at the fresh flowing fountain; + On which oft at daybreak he brushes the dews, + And gallops o'er valley and mountain! + + His cheek round and fat, wears the hue of the rose, + He seems quite a stranger to sorrow; + And while on his sofa his limbs find repose, + He laughs loudly, and talks of to-morrow! + + "To-morrow," says he, "you must call up the hounds, + As soon as the light is appearing!"-- + Not thinking that Death while rambling his rounds, + To his mansion a message is bearing, + + "To-morrow," says he, "we'll unkennel the fox, + Or in his old cabin we'll crush him; + Or when we have got him away from the rocks, + In spite of Old Harry we'll brush him! + + And then we will dine on the lamb or the goose, + Which, if he had liv'd would have fill'd him; + Then o'er a full bumper we'll have a carouse, + And we'll sing where he fell, and who kill'd him!" + + But ah! when life's stern disappointment he meets, + Like a lion imprison'd he grieves, + That he who expected so much of life's sweets, + So soon of its bitters receives! + + Disease o'er his fortified barriers leaps, + And with internal pain soon afflicts him;-- + Next into his chamber the pale monster creeps, + And singles him out as his victim! + + Like a leaf that in autumn falls dead from the tree, + Soon a train is seen weeping behind him:-- + A visit I made, his improvements to see, + And I look'd, but alas, could not find him! + + + + +THE RULE OF CONTRARY! + + + Some men have Rules so incorrect, + They almost always vary; + And some make Rules to gain respect, + But I'm for one contrary! + + Some strive to gain the smiles of men, + But I prefer their frown; + The torrent of my pride to stem, + And keep ambition down! + + The praise of men's an empty thing, + And crowns and sceptres vain, + To him who seeks the "living spring," + As parch'd lands look for rain! + + Some recommend the hearty laugh, + But I prefer the tear, + Which tells me that my heart is soft, + My hope of heaven is clear! + + Some say, "Give me the tavern song!" + But I prefer the sigh, + Which though unnoticed by the throng, + Yet pierces to the sky! + + Some say, "Give me that pleasing look, + Which does the fancy win!" + But give me one that's plain without, + If she be fair within! + + Some plead for ornamental dress, + The concert and the ball; + Except the Robe of Righteousness, + Let me be stript of all! + + Some love with dealers dark to dwell, + And glory in the night; + But I would shun the road to hell, + Therefore I love the light! + + Some love their minds with tales to feed, + Of regions yet untrod;-- + When I've a little time to read, + Give me the Book of God! + + Some praise a head of natural wit + And worldly wisdom full; + Without the truths of Holy Writ, + Give me an empty skull! + + The jet, the gold, or ivory cross, + By many is admir'd; + But I esteem the blood of Him, + Who on the cross expir'd! + + My heart with sin as crimson dyed, + Would ever so remain; + But if that blood by faith's applied, + 'Twill cleanse from every stain! + + With some their fill of pleasure here, + Is all the good they crave:-- + Give me a humble, holy fear, + A hope beyond the grave! + + At wisdom's shrine I'll light my torch, + And in her pleasant ways, + Under the Nazarene's reproach, + I'll live out all my days! + + Thus whether sanction'd or despis'd, + Such is my fancy's Rule; + In keeping which I shall be wise, + Although accounted fool! + + Let the free thinker take the hint, + And with my creed agree; + That all are not compell'd to think, + Nor speak the same as he! + + + + +ON FINDING SOME DEISTICAL BOOKS IN THE HOUSE OF ONE WHO ONCE FEARED GOD! + + "_How is the gold become dim!_" (Lamen. iv. 1.) + + + False publications throw their gloomy rays, + Where once the Sun of Righteousness did shine; + With pain we recollect the former days, + While scoffing infidels their voices join! + + Insulting Heav'n, they oft with brazen brow, + Deny our Saviour is the Son of God! + But soon to Him their every knee shall bow, + And they shall groan beneath His iron rod! + + What madness to defy His power above, + To slight that blood which has their souls redeem'd; + To him who does his God sincerely love, + How painful 'tis to hear His name blasphem'd! + + O let us flee these men of wicked minds, + Whose glory reaches not beyond the grave; + Who to accomplish their absurd designs, + Dethrone our King, and style the conquest brave! + + Yet still He reigns, and shall for ever hold, + In massy chains the gloomy powers of Hell; + They soon His second coming shall behold, + And howling, see the place from whence they fell! + + Ah! surely Satan's thousand years are up, + And he once more is suffer'd loose to go! + His object is to stagger Israel's hope, + And drag them captive to his den below! + + Come down, O Lord! and bid thy thunders roll! + Send forth thy lightnings, and thy foes consume! + O let them know that thou wilt them controul, + In each, and all the shapes which they assume! + + Gird on thy sword, thou mighty matchless King! + Reclaim these poor deluded sons of men! + O save them from the cruel serpent's sting; + And drive him back to his infernal den! + + If Israel's hope is not quite lost in death, + May these dry bones the Word of God receive! + Come from the four winds, O reviving breath, + And breathe upon these slain, that they may live! + + + + +ON VISITING FRYUP, DURING A GREAT REVIVAL. + + + O Fryup! far distant thy fame now extends, + Kind Heav'n doth thy breaches repair; + Thou land of religion, and bibles, and friends, + I rejoice to breathe thy pure air! + + Thou land of devotion, and health to the soul, + With pleasure I walk o'er thy plains; + Where Christ to the sick hath oft spoken, "Be whole!" + Where religion, where righteousness reigns! + + With earnest desire I've long wish'd to see, + The beauties which now I behold; + This visit has proved more refreshing to me, + Than thousands of silver, or gold! + + The day spring of glory hath visited thee, + For joy thy inhabitant sings; + The bright Sun of Righteousness riseth on thee, + And healing's receiv'd from his wings! + + His influence too, I have felt in my soul, + With gratitude now I confess; + May all his opposers yield to his control, + And sinners be saved by his grace! + + As lights in a land long benighted and dark, + May thy sons and thy daughters arise; + While faith to a flame fans the Heav'nly spark, + And they earnestly press to the skies! + + May the husband incessantly plead for the wife, + The wife for her husband contend; + That the favour of God which is better than life, + May on both through the Spirit descend! + + May the lover's petition be heard for the fair, + And the maiden prevail for the youth; + Till all those who for righteousness never did care, + Feel the force of Religion and Truth! + + May thy ministers fill'd with the Spirit of God, + As giants prevail o'er their foes; + Their word prove more sharp than a two edged sword, + In defence of their King and his laws! + + May thy sinners be sav'd on every hand, + Believers be steadfast and true;-- + With sorrow, once more, I now quit thy fair land, + Old Fryup! and bid thee adieu! + + + + +THE THREE VOICES! + + +_1st._ _The Voice of Conscience says_, + Man! mind thyself, and all thyself; + Thy inner self, thy outer self, + Thy present self, thy future self, + The best of self, and worst of self; + Or it may chance that thou, thyself, + For ever may'st upbraid thyself, + For making such a fool of self, + As not in time to know thyself! + +_2nd._ _The Voice of the Flesh says_, + O Man! do thou enjoy thyself, + For why should'st thou annoy thyself, + Or strangely thus employ thyself, + In seeking thus to know thyself, + When other men are like thyself! + Beware lest thou destroy thyself! + Be not a burden to thyself, + While thou hast life within thyself! + +_3rd._ _The Voice of the Devil says_, + Fine man, think highly of thyself! + Put no restraint upon thyself; + Nor with religion plague thyself! + For thou art not so bad as self + Would sometimes make thee think thyself! + To my advice submit thyself, + And in thy lusts indulge thyself;-- + Then I at last shall get thyself! + + + + +A DIALOGUE + + Between Rosedale Bob and Hartoft John, on a Speech delivered by + the Venerable The Archdeacon P----, L.L.D., at a Bible Meeting + held in the new Church, Rosedale. + + +_John._--What cheer, awd stock? say what's ther beean te doo, + 'At macks ye leeak seea dark aboot yer broo? + Yoo leeak as thof yer parliament petition + Had met wi' sum romantic opposition! + Or mebby yoo hev met wi' sum abuse, + Or fra' sum quarter heeard sum heavy news! + Perhaps the trial may cum clooaser still, + Yer wife or childer may be takken ill. + +_Bob._--Alas! the news Ah hev te tell's seea bad, + The fields an' forests seeam i' moorning clad; + By men unauthorized an' unordeean'd, + Oor new erected Temple is profeean'd! + The cushions an' the tassels all are soil'd, + The bell's enchanted, an' oor woorship's spoil'd, + They've held in it, what's caus'd this desecration, + A meetin' for t' Baable's circulation. + +_John._--If that be all the thing's as leeght as chaff, + The fields an' fleeads may clap ther hands an' laff; + Sin' better sense is teeachin' greeat an' small, + Te send this glorious leeght fra' pole te pole! + 'Tis yan o' Jesus Christ's last greeat commands, + Te send this leeght te dark an' heathen lands. + Lets whooap the profit 'll ootweigh the loss;-- + If t'parson beean't t'Church 'll be neea worse! + +_Bob._--Whah, Ah's neea scholar, nowther will pertend + Te say, hoo far this mischief may extend. + Oor greeat Divine, afoore he left the pleeace, + He tell'd us positive it wur the keease: + Hiz argument did raise te that amoont, + The Church wur ruin'd on this seeame accoont; + When sike like wark the church's pillars shake, + Hiz maister's honner foorc'd him for te speak. + +_John._--Whether Divine, M.A., or L.L.D., + 'Tis lahtle matter whea or what he be: + The thing's reveal'd tiv us as clear as him, + What God approves man owght nut te condemn. + Whate'er may be his sacerdotal geeans, + The public, they may thenk him for hiz peeans; + 'At he seea fine a sample sud dispense + Ov college iddicated influence. + +_Bob._--Cud it be heeard an' understeead on reeght, + Daft Hannah's speech be quite as full o'leeght. + She thinks t'awd man sud nut ha' beean seea vext, + Bud tonn'd hiz leeaf an' teean anuther text. + The bad effects hez beean, she hez neea doot, + Wi' brush or beezom swept an' carried oot; + They teeak true pains te mack all clean an' clivver, + An' t' Church is noo as gud an' weel as ivver. + +_John._--Bud leeak thoo heer, this is the thing they dreead, + If yance t'Baable an' the truth be spreead, + The veil 'll fall fra' off the people's eyes, + An' t' commons then will as the lords be wise; + They then 'll graw so base i' disposition, + Te heigher powers they will disdain submission; + An' will te men ov honourable name, + Refuse that homage which ther titles claim! + +_Bob._--Then chapels will i' all directions rise, + Wi' saucy steeples moonting te the skies; + An' preeachers run, or ride on hoss or gig, + As rank as sheep that travel Blaca rig, + If sike proceedings further be alloo'd, + Awd England's sun 'll set behinnd a clood:-- + Nur need we wonder they alood procleeam, + Thooase men sal speeak neea longer i' this neeame. + +_John._--'At sike a meetin' sud be held i' t' church, + By men 'at scarce wur fit te stand i' t' porch, + Wur sike a stain upon its consecration, + As roused his reverence's indignation. + What cud thooase expect as ther reward, + Bud fra' sike bold attempts te be debarr'd; + Nur ivver mare mun they cum theer again, + Whahl he hiz sacred office does sustain! + If sike like doctrines spreead an' sud prevail, + Then Bishop's ordination treead 'll fail; + Then grace 'll mare than larning be admired, + An' priests stand i' the market place unhired: + Men will fra' ivvery secret corner creep, + Or oot o' coalpits into pulpits leap; + Whahl wi' ther gestures an' insinuations, + They'll rob the Churches o' ther congregations. + +_Bob._--Then fooaks 'll ton, like bees 'at's left the hive, + Seea stupid as te nowther leead nur drive, + Nur draw by gifts, nur binnd doon by oppression, + Nur scar by Apostolical Succession: + In vain a man may then hiz feeace disguise, + An' landlords ower ther tenants tyrannize. + Neea patchwark then 'll answer as afoore, + Nur gowns, nur blankets buy or sell the poor. + That Parson then by chance may loss hiz pleeace, + Whea hunts, or gallops i' the Steeple Chase; + Whea i' the ring appears a jovial fellow, + Sits by his wine or grog till he is mellow; + Then wi' hiz dogs pursues the grouse or game + Mare than the cottage ov the poor or lame; + Or if hiz gun sud chance te miss the mark + Te rap an' sweear, an' lie all t'bleeam o' t' clerk. + +_John._--Nur wonder thoo that venerable man, + Sud be seea feearful ov hiz treead an' clan; + If better leeght be spreead by land an' sea, + Oor heeame boond slaves 'll seek for liberty, + They'll finnd they're neean seea fit te show the way, + As thooase 'at walks theerin fra' day te day. + Bud God himsel has teeak the thing i' hand, + An' Baable Meetings yet sal bless oor land; + Oor God 'll raise up men ov noble soul, + An' He the sleepy churches will controul: + Will send hiz sarvants whea hiz judgements knaw, + Te thunner oot the terrors ov His law; + Whahl Jesus will hiz meeghty airm mack bare, + An' tack the flocks himsel into hiz care. + +_Bob._--Sike laws amang oor heeigh up chaps exist, + As labouring men finnd hard for te resist. + O't' Sabbath days they rob beeath God an' man, + That scribe may preeav this statement fause as can. + All hands mun haste seean as they hear the bell, + To t'steeple hoose let t'priest be what he will; + An' thooase 'at izzen't satisfied wi' t'kirk, + Mun owther quit ther farm or loss ther woark. + +_John._--Thooase laws mitch differ fra' the laws ov heaven, + Fra' God te man for holy purpose given; + Peace te promote an' put an end te strife, + Te regulate hiz hoosehod an' hiz life. + In holy days afoore the churches fell, + Neea music soonded like the sabbath bell; + The ministers wur thoughtful, holy men, + Nur threeats wur needed, nur compulsion then. + +_Bob._--Yan wad be fain sike days again te see, + An' hear fooaks sing wi' love an' melody, + As yan hez reead i' bukes ov holy men, + 'At nowther cared for fire nur lion's den: + Bud dreeaded sin wi' all its scorpion stings, + Mare than the wrath ov heathen priests an' kings. + All whea te God in meek submission boo, + Thof t'way be dark, He'll awlus bring 'em throo. + +_John._--Jist wait a whahl, till taame reverse the scene, + An' Anti-Christ hez hed hiz pompous reign; + When persecution wi' her torch an' foark, + Sets carnal men an' ministers te woark, + Te help the Beast te mack hiz proselytes, + Te purge hiz fleer, an' bon the hypocrites:-- + Then thooase whea live, an' hev the truth maintained, + I' cleearer leeght 'll hev the thing explained. + + + + +A LOVE LETTER! + + (_To Miss ----_) + + + Forgive a stranger who would make so free, + As to declare a suitor's love for thee; + And by the strength of his affection, move + Thy heart to render back responsive love! + + The language these few humble lines impart, + Though it seem rude, is from an honest heart; + From one whose only aim and object is, + Thy Lover's glory, and thy future bliss. + + Not for myself would I now intercede, + For I, alas, no excellence can plead; + My handsomest attire is homely spun, + And many years my glass of life hath run! + + I plead the cause of Him, at whose command, + Thy soul shall one day in his presence stand; + And thou for ever may'st lament the change, + If once His love be turn'd into revenge! + + Of all thy list of lovers finely drest, + He told me secretly He was the first; + That even in thy youthful frolics wild, + His love was on thee, from a very child! + + That often he has stood without thy door, + While thou did'st other swains prefer before: + That oft the tear hath dim'd his eye so bright, + His locks all dripping with the dews of night! + + He needs not thus admit of rivals, when + He is the fairest of the sons of men! + He wooes the world, and those who hear his voice, + Seldom, if ever, rue their happy choice. + + He says for thee He has in battle bled, + And carried weighty sorrows in thy stead; + To save thy soul from infinite distress, + He bruis'd the monster in the wilderness! + + Nay, language fails, to say by land or sea, + What perils He hath undergone for thee; + Yea, many a bitter cup, and piercing smart, + His soul hath felt to gain thy worthless heart! + + Yes! He who thus demands thy stedfast love, + Is highly honour'd in the courts above; + He speaks, and sun, and moon, and stars, stand still, + And stormy winds and waves obey his will! + + His tender care hath been about thy bed, + When midnight thunders rolled above thy head! + When trembling thou beheld'st the lightning's glare + Light up thy room, and cause thee sudden fear! + + To all who need Him he is sure to prove + The best Physician too, when sick of love; + And yet all those who fall beneath his ire, + His anger doth consume and burn like fire! + + How long wilt thou withhold from Him his right, + Or from thyself such permanent delight, + As He hath promis'd in His faithful word, + Such as the hills of Paradise afford? + + When will thine eyes with happy tears o'erflow? + And thy fair breast with holy ardour glow? + When will thy lips thy dearest friend surprise, + By speaking out the language of the skies? + + Who thus surrender Him their heart and mind, + Through life's vicissitudes are sure to find + "Him first, Him last, Him midst, and without end," + A faithful Lover, and a constant Friend! + + Where will those flee, or what may they expect, + Who his repeated overtures reject, + Who put in other gods their daily trust, + When He shall dash their refuge into dust? + + I long to see that lovely face of thine, + Beam forth with holy confidence divine; + And, fully freed from sin's enthralling chain, + No longer seek for happiness in vain! + + If then thy love be wandering elsewhere, + Thy choice decide, while He doth with thee bear; + Lest thou lament thy loss with anguish keen, + When Death hath fix'd a mighty gulf between! + + + + +TRUTH TRIUMPHANT! + + + See yon flag of crimson dye, + Wave along the vaulted sky! + See yon flag, &c. + To its hem fair Truth is bound, + Blood of martyrs sprinkled round; + That earth's multitudes may see, + Truth will have the Victory! + Victory! Victory! + + Wicked men in vain oppose, + Babes shall sing of Sharon's Rose! + Wicked men, &c. + Borne on winds from pole to pole, + Like the prophet's flying roll; + Ethiopia soon shall see + Truth will have the Victory! + Victory! Victory! + + Some of earth's dark corners shine, + With this heav'nly light divine! + Some of earth's, &c. + Africa's dark sons obey, + Pagan temples own her sway;-- + Own with us, 'tis God's decree, + Truth shall have the Victory! + Victory! Victory! + + Turks! who will no mercy shew, + Mercy is proclaim'd for you! + Turks! who will, &c. + Men are ceasing to bow down, + To their gods of wood and stone; + And all nations soon shall see, + Truth will have the Victory! + Victory! Victory! + + Where Truth reigns the work goes on, + Christ and Truth are both but one! + Where Truth, &c. + Saints shall find the promise true, + Christ will soon "make all things new;" + And rejoice at God's decree, + Truth shall have the Victory! + Victory! Victory! + + Pow'rs of darkness! do your best, + Put your prowess to the test! + Pow'rs of darkness! &c. + Persecution fierce employ, + Jesu's kingdom to destroy, + 'Tis in vain! 'tis God's decree, + Truth shall have the Victory! + Victory! Victory! + + Jews! the Crucified adore, + Objects of his wrath no more! + Jews! the Crucified, &c. + Own the Galilean King, + With your gentile brethren sing; + Now obey, 'tis God's decree, + Truth shall have the Victory! + Victory! Victory! + + Hasten, Lord, the glorious day, + Let all true believers say! + Hasten, Lord, &c. + When these frozen hearts shall flow, + Each with love and wonder glow; + All with one accord agree, + Truth hath gain'd the Victory! + Victory! Victory! + + Soon th' Archangel's trump shall sound, + Wake the dead from sleep profound! + Soon the, &c. + Earth shall melt, the stars shall fall, + Men on rocks and mountains call; + Christ will then his saints set free:-- + What a glorious Victory! + Victory! Victory! + + + + +REFLECTIONS ON A BACKSLIDER. + + + How art thou fallen, thou son of the light! + How happy the scenes from which thou art driven! + Behold! if thy soul can dwell on the sight, + Where thou didst once walk and hold converse with heaven! + + Then down turn thine eye to yon dreary place, + To which with swift steps thy spirit is bound; + See the hideous forms which thy spirit shall chase, + Ere long in that fire which thee will surround! + + In anguish there thy frighted eyes shall roll, + While demons triumph at thy overthrow; + With flaming firebrands lash thy naked soul, + With burning arrows pierce thee through and through! + + Thy dying soul still fed with living pain, + Shall curse the day on which she first drew breath; + Her awful burden she must still sustain, + And weep, and wail, and long in vain for death! + + Midst hell's deep gloom her portion she must drink, + Of double vengeance from Jehovah's ire, + And in the burning lake for ever sink,-- + That dreadful region of tormenting fire! + + Alas! the dreadful stupor still remains, + Nor hell can fright, nor heav'nly joys allure; + In vain thy self-convicted soul complains, + Of constant torment, and of thoughts impure! + + In vain the heav'nly harpers tune the lyre, + Rejoicing saints perform the three-fold part; + In vain believers flash devotion's fire, + Or drag the holy harrows o'er thy heart! + + That heart enclos'd as in a case of steel, + Laments its loss, and seeks for rest in vain! + Sighs for that impulse which she once did feel,-- + Oh! shall she never taste those joys again. + + I know the Lord is mighty to redeem, + Of boundless mercy, and unmeasur'd grace, + But sin hath fix'd a mighty gulf between,-- + Beyond that gulf a Saviour shows his face. + + Sometimes thou may'st the keen conviction spurn, + Through liquor's magic, or associates gay, + But this thy strongest refuge will o'erturn, + To think of Death, and the great judgement day. + + + + +VILLAGE PREACHING. + + "_Speak unto us smooth things._" (Isaiah xxx. 10.) + + + Far over Cleveland's lofty hills, + Water'd by rivulets and rills, + A lovely village doth appear, + And o'er the trees its chimneys rear + + A church there is without a steeple, + And several unconverted people; + Though not much pious fruit appear, + The people still desire to hear. + + To chapel oft they go and back, + In their old summer beaten track, + Where they the Holy Spirit grieve, + And pray for what they don't believe. + + Those preachers they like best to hear, + Whose doctrine is not too severe; + Who make no push extraordinary, + But tell their tale and let them be. + + It happen'd on a certain day, + A stranger chanced to stroll that way;-- + I'll try to sketch him if I can, + Some call him an eccentric man. + + One whom God's Spirit had enlighten'd, + Whom his own sins had soundly frightened; + Who when by strong conviction pained, + Did pardon seek, which he obtained. + + He knew he then accepted stood, + By faith in the atoning blood; + But saw the people's sad condition, + And offer'd them his admonition. + + A door was open in that place, + Where long had been the means of grace; + The means by many long neglected, + For fear they there should be detected. + + A worthy woman there did live, + Who her advice did gratis give; + Who cared for both the flock and fold, + Like Deborah in days of old. + + Like her she long had wish'd to see, + A glorious gospel victory; + And gave a friendly invitation, + To hear an extra exhortation. + + The forms were set, and rostrum fix'd, + The preacher went and took his text:-- + Sinners! your bleeding Saviour see, + He cries, "Ye will not come to me!" + + He tried to tell what those shall win, + Who come to Christ and leave their sin; + How those shall fare in the great day, + Who all their life time stay away. + + Having as he thought, clear'd his way, + They sang, and then began to pray; + He left his elevated station, + And went among his congregation, + + Of the great things he'd dwelt upon, + He ask'd them questions, one by one, + And if advice or help was needing, + For penitents who then were pleading. + + They still went on to sing and pray, + The good, old-fashioned gospel way; + And closer press'd the invitation, + Until 'twas time for separation. + + But such unusual proceeding, + They say completely spoil'd the meeting;-- + That preacher's conduct is unstable, + Who cannot keep behind the table! + + Preachers ought not to come so nigh, + Into the soul's affairs to pry; + For whether they be saved or no, + Is more than they've a right to know. + + Such bold presuming impudence, + To some might prove a great offence;-- + Going and asking one by one, + How they for Heaven are getting on! + + They say they'll come to preaching still, + If she one promise will fulfil; + That is as long as she is able, + Will keep the man behind the table. + + Those hearers now are far too thin, + Who like a lusty, loud "Amen!" + And folks have now a taste so fine, + A semiquaver breaks the line! + + Ye men of God, the truth enforce, + You cannot press the thing too close, + If you would do the people good, + Or clear your conscience of their blood. + + When your sermon is completed, + Then your aid is further needed; + To lift up still your warning voice, + Nor leave the people to their choice. + + Though some, alas, are so precise, + And God's rich blessings do despise, + Others may need your friendly care, + And will your counsel gladly hear. + + If your advice when managed well, + Perchance might save some soul from Hell; + Oh think of this,--and if you're able, + You may stand still behind the table. + + If I should go that way once more, + And find the people as before; + They must have either chain or cable, + If they keep _me_ behind the table. + + + + +THE LODGER IN LIVERPOOL; + +OR, + +THE MASON IN WINTER NIPT BY THE FROST. + + While a card party were enjoying themselves in an adjoining + room. + + + While sad I sit, oft musing over + Happy days for ever fled; + A lonely lodger in a corner, + Like some hermit in his shed. + + All around seems blithe and merry; + _My_ light's dim, and harp's unstrung, + While memory turns to yonder valley, + On whose flowery banks I've sung. + + Dirty, ragged, and down-hearted, + Far from country, friends, and home; + And as far from kindness parted, + Doom'd for work the world to roam. + + While the cheerful game hath flourish'd, + Gaily the glad table round; + From my eye the tear unnoticed, + Oft hath fallen to the ground. + + Now they sing of female beauty, + Or the treachery of men, + Or of robbers seeking booty, + Like the tiger from his den. + + Lovely forms and handsome faces, + Serve to gild the gay deceit; + Amorous ditties serve for graces, + Both before and after meat. + + 'Tis theirs to share life's fleeting joys, + Mine to drag the galling chain; + But still a hope my spirit buoys, + That the sun will shine again. + + If their pleasures were not carnal, + I might long with them to share; + Did they lead to joys eternal, + When they laugh, I might despair. + + But when time makes all surrender, + Nor permits the least excuse, + Happy they, whom time's avenger, + Charges not with its abuse. + + + + +EDOM. + + (Isaiah lxiii. 1.) + + + O ye muses, assist me to sing, + Of the things which by faith I have seen; + Of the love of my Saviour and King, + While wandering on earth I have been. + + That Him I so little have loved, + For this I have reason to mourn; + And for talents and time mis-improved, + In the days of my youth that are gone. + + For neglect of the records divine, + Which so often did sound in mine ear; + My affections they did not incline, + I neglected like others to hear. + + Like sheep did we all go astray, + And left the fair pastures serene; + Did wander from him far away, + Where terror and darkness were seen. + + There in ambush our enemies lay, + As we roam'd o'er those desolate plains; + We became their unfortunate prey, + And were bound in affliction and chains. + + We long in that sad plight did lie, + Nor had courage nor strength to look up; + Yet we oft cast a languishing eye, + To the hills from whence cometh our hope. + + And there came one from Edom afar, + To whom the sad signal we gave; + He looked like a champion of war, + He was bloody--yet mighty to save! + + And as swift to our rescue He came, + We related to Him all our grief, + He said that heaven heard us complain, + And 'twas He that had brought us relief. + + "Who art thou?" then we fearfully said, + "Why so red in thy glorious array? + Like one who is sorely dismayed, + Through the burden and heat of the day?" + + "I have come from the Father of lights, + That you in His glory may shine; + Whose throne is on high o'er all heights, + And the work of redemption is mine. + + In His courts the great question was ask'd, + Who would rescue lost man from the grave? + I, my love and omnipotence task'd, + That the ruined and lost I might save! + + Then stern Justice demanded his due, + And I looked for help but found none; + So my life I have laid down for you, + And have trodden the wine press alone. + + "Look on me," He said with a smile, + "'Twas for you I was bruised as ye see; + There was none for this wonderful toil, + And the burden fell all upon me!" + + Then He lifted us up from the ground, + And He broke our tyrannical chain; + While His blood stream'd afresh from each wound, + And whoever it touch'd was made clean! + + "The ransom, though mighty, is paid, + Therefore open your hearts to receive; + You need be no longer afraid + If you truly repent and believe!" + + While sweet comfort thus flow'd from his tongue, + His visage though marr'd grew more fair; + With swift wings and angelical song, + He ascended on high in the air! + + A bright cloud took Him out of our sight, + And our eyes could behold him no more; + He arose to the regions of light, + And left us to believe and adore! + + + + +REFLECTIONS ON ABSENT FRIENDS, GONE TO AMERICA. + + + The sun had gone down o'er yon lofty mountain, + The last golden streamer had left the tall tree; + The dwelling below seemed forsaken and gloomy, + Its inmates were tossing upon the wide sea. + + The rose tree was nodding the lasses had nourish'd, + Which oft had supplied them with Sunday's perfume; + The wall-flower in sorrowful modesty flourish'd, + And wept o'er the beautiful daisy in bloom! + + In the track by the river the green grass is springing, + On whose flowery bank they were oft wont to stray; + No more the still grove with sweet echoes is ringing, + To the voice of the milk maid, or children at play. + + The dog in the night time now howls discontented, + Of its master and mistress but lately bereft; + I listen'd and look'd to the place they frequented, + Of them not a sigh, nor a whisper is left. + + How strong the emotions of friendship were glowing, + When towed by the steamer the ocean they braved; + Their force was evinced by the tears that were flowing, + As the hat, or the hand, or the handkerchief waved. + + From the shores of old England we anxiously view'd them, + A cargo most precious, and dear to our sight; + Far o'er the blue surface affection pursued them, + Till the ship was conceal'd by the curtain of night. + + They have left us,--their absence wakes mournful reflection, + As the fast sailing Arundel bears them away; + We can only consign them to heavenly protection, + To Him, whom the winds and the waters obey. + + He who roves through the wood may quickly discover, + Their affection in tokens which there he will see; + Where with sorrowful heart each friend or each lover, + May sigh o'er their names in the bark of the tree. + + + + +THE LAST JOB OF AN OLD TRAMP; + +OR, + +REFLECTIONS ON BURNING A MASON'S MALLET + +FOR A YULE CLOG, ON CHRISTMAS EVE. + + + O thou once highly valued piece of wood, + By him who best that value understood; + Whose purse so often thou didst help to fill,-- + Whom bed and board, + Thou didst afford, + Attended by thy train of sharpen'd steel! + + True to thy task throughout the changing year, + Thy fellowship was to thy master dear:-- + Whether at work, or o'er his shoulder slung, + Or near his side, + Thou wast his pride, + While with his friend he cheerful sat and sung! + + Without a murmur at stern winter's frown, + Or summer's heat, in country or in town, + The stone hath yielded to thy sturdy blow:-- + Thy day is gone, + Thy task is done, + And thou art own'd by thy last master now! + + While careless I thy destiny survey, + And see thee down to ashes waste away; + Thy crackling whisper seems to shew to me, + The frailty clear, + Of all things here, + To earth allied, and man's mortality! + + Since first on thee the tender bud appear'd, + Or on thy branch the birds the woodlands cheer'd, + What strange vicissitudes have roll'd between; + Since thou wast nurs'd, + With care at first, + Or in the forest flourish'd gay and green! + + There was a time when high thy top did wave, + In mystic triumph o'er the woodman's grave, + Whose stroke had ceas'd, worn out by course of years; + Where undismay'd + The breezes play'd, + Whose peaceful shade remembrance only bears! + + Ah! thou wilt never, never bud again, + Thy ashes lost in field, or flood, or lane; + No more the sun will on thy substance shine: + It would, at last, I fear, + Be well with many here, + If life's last spark might be compared with thine! + + + + +GLOSSARY. + + + Aboon--_above_ + Ageean--_against_ + Ah--_I_ + Ah'v--_I have_ + Airm--_arm_ + Alang--_along_ + 'At's--_that is_ + Awd--_old_ + Awn--_own_ + Awlus--_always_ + Ax--_ask_ + + Baable--_bible_ + Bairn--_child_ + Beck--_a brook_ + Beean--_been_ + Beeans--_bones_ + Beean't--_be not_ + Beeath--_both_ + Beelds--_builds_ + Berreed--_buried_ + Besaads--_besides_ + Blaw--_blow_ + Bleead--_blood_ + Boo--_bow_ + Booast--_boast_ + Boorn--_born_ + Boon--_going_ + Bon--_burn_ + Bonny--_handsome_ + Bowght--_bought_ + Breeght--_bright_ + Brigg--_bridge_ + Broo--_brow_ + Bukes--_books_ + + Cawd--_cold_ + Caps--_puzzles_ + Cheeans--_chains_ + Childer--_children_ + Chimler--_chimney_ + Clim--_climb_ + Clivver--_clever_ + Com--_came_ + Congker'd--_conquered_ + Convarsion--_conversion_ + Cooat--_coat_ + Coorn--_corn_ + Coorse--_course_ + Cubburt--_cupboard_ + Cum--_come_ + + Daft--_weak in mind_ + Dee--_die_ + Deea--_do_ + Deeal--_dale_ + Deean--_done_ + Deed--_died_ + Deein--_dying_ + Desaun'd--_designed_ + Doon--_down_ + Doot--_doubt_ + Draave--_drive_ + Duffil--_kind of coarse cloth_ + + Ee--_eye_ + Een--_eyes_ + Efter--_after_ + Ey--_aye_ + + Faanly--_finely_ + Fain--_glad_ + Fand--_found_ + Fause--_false_ + Feeat--_foot_ + Feead--_fed_ + Feight--_fight_ + Finnd--_find_ + Flay'd--_afraid_ + Fleead--_flood_ + Fleer--_floor_ + Floor--_flower_ + Foark--_fork_ + Fooas--_foes_ + Fooaks--_folks_ + Fooam--_foam_ + Foond--_found_ + Forgeean--_forgiven_ + Fower--_four_ + Fra'--_from_ + Freeat--_fret_ + Frev--_from_ + Froon'd--_frowned_ + Fund--_found_ + + Gaain--_going_ + Gamlin--_gambling_ + Gang--_to go_ + Gangin--_going_ + Gat--_got_ + Geean--_gone_ + Geean'd--_gained_ + Geen--_given_ + Gie--_give_ + Ginnes--_guineas_ + Gitten--_got_ + Gooan--_gone_ + Graw--_grow_ + Greeatin--_groaning_ + Greeave--_grave_ + + Hawf--_half_ + Heeame--_home_ + Heearth--_earth_ + Heeigh--_high_ + Hennut--_have not_ + Hev--_have_ + Hez--_has_ + Hezzen't--_has not_ + Hods--_holds_ + Hoo--_how_ + Hoor--_hour_ + Hooivver--_however_ + Hoose--_house_ + Hoosin--_household_ + Hoss--_horse_ + + Iddicated--_educated_ + I' noo--_soon_ + I' t'--_in the_ + Iv--_in_ + Ivvery--_every_ + + Keease--_case_ + Ken--_to see_ + Kesenmas--_christmas_ + Kest--_cast_ + Kirk--_church_ + Knaw--_know_ + Ky--_cows_ + + Lahtle--_little_ + Lee--_a lie_ + Leeak--_look_ + Leeatly--_lately_ + Leeght--_light_ + Lie--_to lay_ + Lig--_to lie_ + Lood--_loud_ + Loore--_learning_ + Loss--_lose_ + + Mack--_make_ + Mah--_my_ + Mahle--_mile_ + Mare--_more_ + Maund--_mind_ + Mebby--_may be_ + Meead--_made_ + Meeasons--_masons_ + Meeght--_might_ + Meer--_a mare_ + Misteean--_mistaken_ + Mitch--_much_ + Mooan't--_must not_ + Mooat--_mote_ + Moont--_mount_ + Moorning--_mourning_ + Mud--_might_ + Mun--_must_ + + Natches--_notches_ + Neea--_no_ + Neean--_none_ + Neegh--_nigh_ + Neeght--_night_ + Neen--_nine_ + Nivver--_never_ + Nobbut--_only_ + Nooas--_noes_ + Nooatice--_notice_ + Nooation--_idea_ + Nowght--_nothing_ + Nowther--_neither_ + Nowthern--_northern_ + Nut--_not_ + + Ommost--_almost_ + Onny--_any_ + Oor--_our_ + O' t'--_of the_ + Ower--_over_ + Owerton--_overturn_ + Owght--_ought, or aught_ + Owther--_either_ + + Pearted--_parted_ + Pertend--_pretend_ + Pleeace--_place_ + Pleugh--_plough_ + Plissures--_pleasures_ + Poosts--_posts_ + Praaze--_praise, or prize_ + Preear--_prayer_ + Preeav--_prove_ + Prisance--_presence_ + Prooan--_prone_ + Prooase--_prose_ + Prood--_proud_ + + Raise--_rise_ + Rath--_wrath_ + Reeace--_race_ + Reeght--_right_ + Reen--_reign_ + Rint--_rent_ + Rowlin--_rolling_ + Rum--_room_ + + Saain'd--_signed_ + Sal--_shall_ + Sare--_sore_ + Sarten--_certain_ + Sawn--_sown_ + Screeve--_mark_ + Seea--_so_ + Seeaf--_safe_ + Seean--_soon_ + Seeaven--_seven_ + Seeght--_sight_ + Seer--_sure_ + Shanks--_legs_ + Shaw--_show_ + Sheeape--_shape_ + Shoat--_short_ + Shoo--_show_ + Shoothers--_shoulders_ + Sike--_such_ + Sin'--_since_ + Skoors--_scores_ + Snaw--_snow_ + Soorce--_source_ + Sowl--_soul_ + Spak--_spoke_ + Steead--_stood_ + Steeaks--_stakes_ + Steean--_stone_ + Strang--_strong_ + Strave--_strive_ + Stond--_stand_ + Stour--_drift_ + Sud--_should_ + Sum--_some_ + Sute--_suit_ + Swap--_exchange_ + + Taame--_time_ + Tack--_take_ + Teea an' fraw--_to and fro_ + Teeables--_tables_ + Teeak--_took_ + Teeal--_tale_ + Teean--_taken_ + Tegither--_together_ + Te t'--_to the_ + Thah--_thy_ + Thee--_thy_ + Theer--_there_ + Thenk--_thank_ + Ther--_their_ + Thof--_though_ + Thowght--_thought_ + Thraving--_thriving_ + Thruff--_through_ + Thunner--_thunder_ + Tiv--_to_ + Ton--_turn_ + Toons--_towns_ + Towght--_taught_ + Treead--_trade_ + Trimmel'd--_trembled_ + Trist--_trust_ + 'Twad--_it would_ + Twea--_two_ + + Ungker'd--_strange_ + + Voo--_vow_ + + Wad--_would_ + Waddn't--_would not_ + Wark--_work_ + Warst--_worst_ + Wean't--_will not_ + Weeap--_weep_ + Weel--_well_ + Wesh--_wash_ + Wha--_who_ + Whahl--_while_ + Wheas--_who is, or whose_ + Whooap--_hope_ + Whoor--_where_ + Winder--_window_ + Winnut--_will not_ + Wiv--_with_ + Woak--_walk_ + Woark--_work_ + Wods--_words_ + Wor--_were_ + Woth--_worth_ + Wrang--_wrong_ + Wur--_our_ + Wur--_was_ + + Yack--_oak_ + Yah--_one_ + Yan--_one_ + Yance--_once_ + Yer--_your_ + + + + +INDEX. + + + Page. + + Preface, 5 + + Awd Isaac, Part First, 9 + + ---- Part Second, 25 + + ---- His dying advice, 30 + + Dialogue on a Steeple Chase, 35 + + The Lucky Dream, 44 + + A strange effusion, 46 + + Lealholm Bridge, 48 + + Old Sam, or the effects of the Gospel, 51 + + Thoughts on Good Friday, 55 + + To a withered flower, 57 + + The country Love Feast, 59 + + Ode to Britain, 62 + + A voice from the dead, 63 + + To the Moor birds in a storm, 66 + + Lines on returning a borrowed Stick, 67 + + The thunder storm, 68 + + The Miser's away, 69 + + The Mistake, 71 + + The broken seal, 72 + + The Stone!, 75 + + To the rising Sun, 82 + + Lines in memory of the Rev. D. Duck, 84 + + An elegy on the death of a beloved child, 85 + + On the first text heard spiritually, 88 + + To a Squirrel in a cage, 90 + + To a bird singing in winter, 92 + + Petch's Elegy, 93 + + Reflections on Petch's tomb, 95 + + "Who hath believed our report?", 97 + + The Bees, 100 + + Caution from Limber Hill, 101 + + The village church in ruins, 103 + + Poetical reflections, 105 + + The two hours' task, 110 + + The country blunder, 113 + + A sinner saved by grace, 115 + + The portion of the Just, 117 + + The happy choice, 118 + + On the death of John Morley, 119 + + The servant's address to his master, 122 + + Sabbath morning musings, 125 + + Lines on leaving Fryup, 129 + + The Swallow, 131 + + A call to the careless, 132 + + To a horse, dying alone!, 134 + + Musings during affliction, 137 + + The Play, 144 + + The remote Christian, 146 + + Solitary reflections, 149 + + On some who had left us, 150 + + There is a God, 152 + + Confirmation, 153 + + The man of the world, 155 + + The rule of contrary, 157 + + On finding some Deistical books, in the + house of one who once feared God, 160 + + On visiting Fryup, 162 + + The Three Voices, 164 + + Dialogue between Rosedale Bob, and Hartoft John, 165 + + A love letter, 170 + + Truth triumphant, 173 + + Reflections on a Backslider, 176 + + Village preaching, 178 + + The lodger in Liverpool, 182 + + Edom, 184 + + Reflections on absent Friends, 187 + + Last Job of an old Tramp, 189 + + Glossary, 191 + + +_Whitby: Printed by Horne and Richardson._ + + + + +TRANSCRIBERS' NOTES + + Page 23: Unnecessary opening " as in original + Page 27: .! at end of verse as in original + Page 34: Closing " has no associated opening " in the original + Page 46: Opening " has no associated closing " in the original + Page 54: " added before We all must + Page 59: mispent as in the original + Page 70: expence as in the original + Page 148: bles'd as in the original + Page 174: Powr's corrected to Pow'rs (second instance) + Page 175: &c, corrected to &c. in the last verse + Page 186: Unnecessary opening " as in original + Page 190: flourish,d corrected to flourish'd + Page 195: sowl corrected to soul + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Awd Isaac, The Steeple Chase, and +other Poems, by John Castillo + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK AWD ISAAC, AND OTHER POEMS *** + +***** This file should be named 35287-8.txt or 35287-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/3/5/2/8/35287/ + +Produced by Brownfox and the Online Distributed Proofreading +Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from +images generously made available by The Internet Archive) + + +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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