Part 2

Forgive a zeal that seeks your weal, No motive else have I; For that intent these lines are sent, Not whim to gratify.

I know you’re plac’d ’midst follies vast, ’Midst vice in every shape, Where pleasure cries, with siren voice, And few her wiles escape.

Let others riot--keep you all quiet, Serene and pure within; Your Maker fear--his laws revere-- Indulge no darling sin.

One day in seven, devote to heaven, God’s house of prayer seek; Be what’s there said in memory laid, For practice through the week.

In dealing just, still true to trust, Whatever others do, Be truth sincere, and honour fair, The character of you.

Owe to no man.--What good you can With friendly zeal perform,-- Let hasty ire your breast ne’er fire, Though wrong’d, still passion’s storm.

Judicious be in your choice; A real _friend_ is rare; Be kind to all, but try them well, Your confidence who share.

Vain empty pride, high scornful ey’d, Ne’er stoop to flatter it; But worth, where seen, in rich or mean, Respect and imitate.

Ne’er be so weak, as vaunting make Proud self your darling song; Let others praise, if there is cause, But never one’s own tongue.

Vain boasting must still raise disgust, Where it applause expects; But solid sense learns diffidence, By seeing its own defects.

Be by each fault in others taught, T’ avoid the same through life; But to their hurt such ne’er report, Thus keeping clear of strife.

No word obscene, or oath profane, Be by your lips express’d, Nor even your ear approving hear, But from your soul detest.

In reason’s scale weigh matters well, When doubtful how to act; But ne’er in cause of goodness pause, Nor virtuous motions check.

All ill resist, do not assist In any guilty scheme, But count all foes who would propose To sully so your fame.

The gaming board shun as a sword, That would assail your breast; Haunts of the rude, like death elude, And drunkards’ bowl unblest.

In harmless joy your days employ, I would not have them dull; To some wise use, each spare hour chuse, On pleasures rational.

Lightsome as day with spirits gay, And sprightly temper even; Join jocund mirth, with men of worth, But ne’er to excess driven.

Good books at home, read in your room, When business will permit; These friends each night will bring delight, Pursu’d by no regret.

Your pillow prest, then sweetest rest Will every sense absorb; Such as by guilt, can ne’er be felt, Which vexing dreams disturb.

A heart at ease, in virtue’s ways, Its portion here is peace; Be that your aim--a worthier gem Than George’s crown doth grace.

Fresh wholesome air, oft walk to share; From noise and nonsense steal; Attend to health, without which, wealth Will be of small avail.

If fortune smile, O let meanwhile, A giving God be blest; Though troubles low’r, yet meek adore, And in your Maker trust.

What Providence doth wise dispense, Should by his friends be view’d, All sent in love, their hearts to prove, And working for their good.

In every case, then humbly place, On high your confidence; Use means, ’tis true, but grateful view, And own all help from thence.

Frail erring man, do all he can, Can merit make no plea; We at God’s hand can nought command, His favours all are free.

Free grace and love, Oh! these improve, While in this lower clime, For all must end, as here we spend, Use or abuse our time.

One thing ’bove all, one day we shall Find to be needful most; And time mis-spent, we may repent, Our precious moments lost.

Time pass’d, again we never can With pray’rs nor tears recall; And e’er perhaps few days elapse, We low in dust may fall.

No wisdom then we can attain, Or knowledge in the tomb; Each day we live doth warning give, That change may shortly come.

Death at our side makes havock wide, Acquaintance not a few, Some young and gay are call’d away, Since I last spoke with you.

Let us regard, and be prepar’d, More wean’d from worldly toys, Which nought can give, but us deceive With false and fleeting joys.

The immortal mind is sure design’d To rise ’bove trifles here, Still soaring higher, it should aspire To heaven, its native sphere.

Below the skies, nought can suffice, The soul still feels a void; Its lov’d abode is with its God, His presence full enjoy’d.

Look on this state so short of date, As trial for the next; Thro’ a Saviour’s name make heaven your claim, Be there your treasure fix’d.

Tho’ we are weak, and wisdom lack, To our best interest blind; Aid, wisdom, light, if sought aright, We graciously shall find.

May heaven direct, and ne’er forsake, But bless my youthful friend; To life give charms, in death’s alarms-- Peace, Hope, and Triumph send.

A LETTER

_To my NEPHEW after he had been ill, then residing in Perth_.

Dear G---- when you these lines receive, Some lovely day like this, Then of your guardian friends ask leave, And if they answer, yes--

With bow of thanks accept the boon; And then with playful glee, And lightsome step, come here at noon, To dine that day with me.

But if your guardians answer, no, Without complaint submit; What’s proper for you best they know, And every way most fit.

Returning health, relations kind, These blessings duly prize, And with a glad, but humble mind, Let grateful thoughts arise,

And trace them from a source divine, Whence all our blessings flow, Such feelings will your soul refine, True happiness to know.

For in whatever state we are, ’Tis comfort still to feel, We’re under his Almighty care, Who orders all things well.

Supported by his Providence, Preserved by his power, Our hope is in Omnipotence, Both now and evermore.

Nought of this hope can us deprive, Unless, O wicked thought! We ’gainst his tender mercies strive, And set his love at nought.

Be then your youthful heart impress’d With awe, nor so offend,-- But not with gloomy dread possess’d-- Your Maker is your friend.

When I beneath the sod lie pale, O! may your days be spent, Though ’lotted in life’s humble vale, In pious calm content.

Now Spring with promis’d bounty crown’d, Unlocks her lovely stores; ’Tis time to dress the spot of ground, That shall be called yours.

When wint’ry storms retreat at last, Afar to frozen seas; Your seeds will spring and blossom fast, And scent the summer breeze.

When flowers are beautiful to view, Fields green, and fair the sky, Then ask your friends to come with you, These beauties to enjoy.--

Though eggs or milk should be their fare, And bread of barley-meal, With welcome, exercise, and air, Such food will favour well.

Though no rich dainties them await, Them though exertion tire, The walk itself will be a treat, And health I hope their hire.

POSTSCRIPT.

Here an acquaintance from the north, A visit doth intend; You oft’ experienc’d his worth, He was the stranger’s friend.

A LETTER

TO A GENTLEMAN FARMER,

_Requesting a favour_.

Sir, just at a venture this freedom I took, And here, as it is, is a letter; Excuse its design, its defects overlook, For the truth is, I could not do better.

I will not address you in flatt’ry’s fine strain, Which is at the best a mere bubble; But simply, and shortly, will try to explain The cause why I give you this trouble.

Being born in this place, and brought up in my youth, By parents not rich, but respected, For honesty, industry, kindness, and truth, On whom some esteem was reflected.

For whose sakes, this neighbourhood, not then estrang’d, Would have helped me, one or another; But now, one excepted, the tenants are chang’d, Who e’er knew my father or mother.

Another, of late, to his farm bade farewell, On whom was the half of my leaning; And one over-burden’d will naturally fail-- So now you may guess at my meaning.

A favour from you this is sent to obtain, And for leave too, to beg a renewal; Please grant me, at this time, and sometimes again, A cart to bring sticks home for fuel.

No claim I can urge to your kindness at all, Necessity made me invent this; And to Mrs ----’s tho’ my claim is but small, Yet her I request to present this.

And should she, sweet pleader, but give me her vote, These lines will, at least, not offend you; The favour I ask, be it granted or not, I wish, Sir, that good may attend you.

_On laying an old Petticoat beside a good one, which were both cut from the same piece of cloth._

Do not thy sister poor despise, Though now in such a plight; Though she in rags beside thee lies, Don’t her condition slight.

I’d have thee better manners taught, Than such vain pride to shew; ’Twas her misfortune, not her fault, That brought thy sister low.

No diff’rence once you two between, A nice eye could have made; But she has oft’ in hardships been, Which made her sooner fade.

In useful service she has spent, Her beauty, strength, and prime; Thou may’st be tarnish’d, burnt, or rent, At some unlucky time.

No one though prosperous to-day, Can tell to-morrow’s lot; This thought must not be thrown away, Though spoke to a petticoat.

No, let me profit by the same, And make the advice my own, To bear in mind how frail I am, Nor be to censure prone.

Should error, change, decay, be proud, Right reason answers, No-- And man to these (howe’er endow’d) Is liable while below.

Humility becomes us all, Though seldom rightly learn’d: We should not boast when others fall, But pity, and be warn’d.

=On visiting a Faded Flower.=

Ah! lovely flow’r, art thou already dead, Thy freshness lost, and native fragrance fled? Fair once thou flourish’d on thy lowly stem, Pleasing their sight and smell, who near thee came;-- I found thee then in infant blossom gay-- Why call’d so soon to witness thy decay? What sudden blast so sorely blighted thee? And what thy message or thy charge to me? Was it to tell me that in childhood so, My beauty too receiv’d a fatal blow? That fell distemper’s unrelenting storm Blighted its bloom, ere ripen’d into form? Yes; to my sorrow, ’twas the case I find, Nor want such help to bring it back to mind; The casual remembrance claims a tear-- But let me not long idly ponder here; A more important lesson thou hast brought,-- Oft’ learn’d, but not remember’d as it ought; Then faded not in vain thy beauteous tint, For it has given one seasonable hint; Reminded thoughtless me in whisper smooth-- I too shall die,--a most momentous truth: Which recollection brings a serious train Of mix’d ideas to my busy brain. Day after day flies with unceasing speed-- One day, how near I know not, is decreed, The utmost bound’ry of my mortal date: Then death will summon to his awful gate; Nought can from his commission’d stroke release, Nature must yield within his cold embrace, Nothing more sure;--this mortal body must Moulder and mingle with its kindred dust. But shall this thinking principle within, Also a period have in death’s domain? Must that more noble part its mansion quit, And then in common air evaporate? No! such a thought appals the human heart, And makes it doubly loath with life to part; We will but for a time be separated, To be in lasting union re-united. A soul immortal’s given to my care, Which weal, or woe, with me shall endless share. Have trifles then such melancholy brought, Or for a moment occupied my thought-- That should on everlasting things be fix’d-- Turn from this world and settle on the next! The fashion of this world shall pass away-- The sun itself grow dim--and time decay: This whole terrestrial system have an end: Then why upon such fleeting things depend; So empty in themselves, and transient, So fluctuating all that they present. For take this world, even at its best, Suppose ourselves of all its good possess’d, Something is wanting--we are far from rest. Much in this world, it really matters not, Was meanest of the mean my destin’d lot: External comforts, blessings are, I grant, And call for thanks to heaven, by whom they’re sent; These in my station I have large enjoy’d, Though one great blessing is to me denied; Even that, for some wise purpose is withheld-- For real good these eyes from light are veil’d, Not from the effects of gloomy dull chagrine, Disgust or envy, but with mind serene; From vain amusements I would now depart, And while youth’s ardour animates my heart, Direct my thoughts to Him who rules above, The spring of action and the source of Love. But how effect the rational design-- A God of love indeed, but is he mine? Am I obnoxious to his threaten’d ire-- God out of Christ is a consuming fire! Our great apostacy from heaven at first, Made its pure law declare us all accurs’d. God could not stoop to pardon an offence Against his law, committed only once, And when its precepts we do daily break, In every thing we think, or speak, or act; What can be done--for God will not forgive, Unless full satisfaction he receive; That satisfaction is not in our power, And to attempt it we offend the more, More that Almighty Being is provok’d, Whose word expressly saith, “_He’ll not be mock’d_:” Infinite purity will ne’er be stain’d, But each perfection to the full maintain’d, Then let not poor presumptuous mortals e’er Approach to God, but by a Saviour dear; For He that form’d them will no favour shew, But spurn them and their proffer’d service too. Such is our state, we only can expect Acceptance, for a Mediator’s sake-- Mercy’s God’s darling attribute reveal’d, That justice also might be reconcil’d, That rebel subjects might have free access Unto his gracious favour,--he no less Than parted with a dear and only son, Who cheerful undertook the cause alone. Here admiration fills the musing mind, Heaven’s uncreated heir his place resign’d; His Father’s bosom for a season left, Offer’d himself a voluntary gift; Though worlds unknown, unnumber’d, by his hand Were form’d, sustain’d, and rul’d by his command. Though seraph choirs with adoration prais’d, And round his throne celestial music rais’d; Though of such glory, of such bliss possess’d, As could not be augmented nor decreas’d, Though happy in himself he could have been, Had all this world sunk underneath its sin; Yet came to shew even with his latest breath, A love divine that stronger was than death! When vain was every scheme man could invent, Law’s threats to mitigate or to prevent; That great days--man stood forward in the breach, Did what, nor men, nor angels ere could reach. That for the work he might be qualified, Veil’d his divinity, not laid aside; Step’d in a willing substitute, and gave All that a violated law could crave; Essential dignity in him at once Did its demands and threat’nings both silence, Obey’d its precepts, paid its penalty, And thus the law did highly magnify. Yes; law and justice to the full are pleas’d! Offended Deity’s in him appeas’d! Hence all our hope, that God will us accept! The only way we can his wrath escape! But heavy will his hot displeasure fall On all who hear, yet slight the gospel call: Then shudder daring infidelity, For heavy, heavy will it fall on thee; The measure of your wickedness is full, For ye not only slight but ridicule. What Christ said to the Pharisees, self-wise, Methinks most fitly now to you applies; Ye will not enter mercy’s open door, And what still aggravates your crime the more, To hinder others who would enter there, Have laid a stumbling block, a deadly snare! ’Gainst all that’s sacred and divine have set Your impious talents to obliterate, And make abortive all that Heaven design’d, To cheer in every woe the drooping mind. But vain such foolish impotent efforts! Omnipotence itself the whole supports! Let not your hearts admit a single doubt, His real friends, for he will sure make out His word, and promises, concerning you; Nor fail in one, if truth itself be true. Exalt him in your hearts higher and higher, Let God be true, and every man a liar, Who dares to question with effront’ry broad, The being, or veracity of God! Nor fear his burning wrath should on them break, In whom even devils do believe and quake! The Lord enthron’d in highest heaven shall laugh;-- Exalted far ’bove atheistic scoff-- And justly doth in indignation say, “Vengeance belongs to me, I will repay.” See such a person, at a dying hour, When conscious guilt the soul doth overpower; When death tears off the thick film from her eyes, And sweeps away her refuges of lies; The sand-built system cannot stand the shock, False rear’d on shatter’d reason’s broken rock; Down falls the tower of self-sufficiency, And all within, chaos and uncertainty. The soul is well nigh bordering on despair! Forc’d to remove, and go, she knows not where! In terror driven upon its vast frontiers-- Eternity sounds dreadful in her ears!-- Trembling she stands, upon its boundless brink, And quite incapable to act or think! Cited by conscience to his awful bar, With whom her life has been open at war! That monitor will be no more supprest, But speaks terrific language in the breast! Points to a powerful and incensed God, And thence doth very fearful things forebode Truly deplorable is such a case-- From which religion can alone release. Nought but well grounded hope, and heaven-born faith Can bear through ills of life, or sweeten death, When that dread monarch comes in frowns array’d, Nature shrinks back, confounded and dismay’d; Nor is it strange for death is nature’s foe, Dissolving every tender tie below,-- But when his icy hand the heart blood chills, When bodily and mental pain assails, And every source of earthly comfort fails: True faith in Christ will then its hold maintain, And in that conflict will the soul sustain; Opens bright prospects, and doth plainly show That death, at worst, is now a conquer’d foe! Teaches to follow Him who once did brave-- Nay, triumph’d over and subdued the grave! If in that hour the Saviour grant relief, As long before to the expiring thief; And whisper in the Gospel’s cheering voice, “To-day thou’lt be with me in Paradise!” How will the soul, then elevated high Above this planet, hail its native sky! And though a darksome valley lies between, Each promise is a staff whereon to lean! Dust to its fellow dust doth fearless lend, And joyful flies Eternity to spend, ’Mong fellow-saints on high, at God’s right hand! O! glorious exit, from a world of pain, To where, nor guilt, nor sorrow, enter can: Their state of trial happily is past; And let me recollect while mine doth last, To order so my conduct while in this, As to obtain a life of endless bliss. Since health and strength are seasons then most meet, To make our peace with heav’n sure and complete. Let not the slighting of such golden times Be added to the number of my crimes; But of ourselves we nothing can acquire-- No! not so much as form one good desire. May God’s good spirit then my soul inspire, To apply to Jesus, a Physician fit, The Saviour gracious and compassionate; Who will, with open arms of love, embrace Returning penitents, won by his grace, T’ accept free mercy on the offer’d plan, At infinite expense prepar’d for man: The gospel call doth well my right ensure,-- “Come all who will and drink life’s water pure.” None are excluded, high and low the same, Have to their Maker’s favour equal claim: Though none can merit, all may humbly crave What’s freely promis’d--hoping to receive.-- Oh! Thou who wilt not turn away thine ear, But listen to the needy’s pray’r sincere. Look then upon me in my lost estate; Thy fulness to my wants accommodate: Impute to me a righteousness divine, Else everlasting mis’ry will be mine. In each vicissitude and wildering maze, Keep from arraigning thy most perfect ways-- For what is good thou only dost bestow-- All that is evil from ourselves doth flow. With love to Thee, O! do my bosom warm! Good-will to all that bear the human form. My heart and its affections wholly draw, And hold in due subjection to thy law.-- So as thou canst approve, direct my way, Else will this perverse heart far from thee stray; Unnumber’d vanities lie lurking here, Which, in unguarded moments, oft’ appear, Leaving a sting behind sharp and severe. No power, sin to withstand, is mine I own-- O! let Almighty power in me be shown, And snatch me as a firebrand from the flame,-- Raise a new monument to mercy’s name.

A FACT

_Recorded in the Evangelical Magazine_,

FOR JULY 1812.

Lately I heard a paper read-- O! were it blessed to me for good! I felt it as the writer did, And awful horror chill’d my blood!

Four criminals were to justice brought, But none of them of harden’d mind; They view’d their state as sinners ought, And were to serious thoughts inclin’d.

Of every comfort long depriv’d, In gloomy dungeon they did moan; At last the dreadful day arriv’d, When life must for their crimes atone.

When standing on the scaffold boards, The gazing multitude to teach; Each made in solemn warning words, A simple, but impressive, speech.

Entreating all to shun each crime, Which God and man have doom’d to wrath, Which leads to punishment in time, And tends to everlasting death.

If once associates in guilt, Now friends in sad affliction, they, To press each others hands they felt, Before the scaffold boards gave way.

O! let me hasten to a close-- Poor ATKINSON in turning round, The shifting rope did so dispose, That death long sought could not be found.

Hanging in air--(Oh! dreadful state!) He utter’d a most piercing cry: His words were (awful to relate!) “O God! O God! I cannot die!”

The sufferer was soon reliev’d; ’Twas merciful to speed his doom;-- But be this truth by all believ’d, For all of us may bring it home.

Yes!--we immortal souls possess, (Whoever may this truth deny;) Which shall in endless woe, or bliss, For ever live, and cannot die.

Proud infidel, be mute, be mute,-- Nor longer injur’d heav’n incense; Lest awful vengeance thee refute, And hurry thee blaspheming hence,

To where thou’lt own,--(but ah! too late,) That all thy boasting was a lie; For ever fix’d, thy dismal state, Live, feel thou must--but cannot die.

Even wert thou right, where is thy gain? When thou art nothing, all is lost; In drear annihilation’s reign, Will it be known how big thy boast?

But wrong, O think,--what fury breaks, On miserable thee to fall; An error there, of all mistakes, Will dreadful be, and past recall.

O trust the word of truth reveal’d, And testimony of the good; The _Sacred Book_ to thee is seal’d, And mock’d, because not understood.

Stout-hearted man, let pride no more, Or vice estrange thy soul from God! Improve his word, his grace implore, ’Tis promis’d and will be bestow’d.

O! thou who kindly lead’st the blind, In ways themselves could never trace; In mercy guide each humble mind, And teach the path to endless peace;

It will enhance the boundless bliss, Of all whose names are wrote on high; That they shall ever see thy face, In love, assur’d they cannot die.