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• My home henceforth is in the skiego

Earth, seas, and sun adieu! Al heaven unfolded to my eyes,

I have no sight for you.'
do spake Aspasio, firm possessid

Of faith's supporting rod,
Then breath'd his soul into its rest

The bosom of his God.
He was a man among the few

Sincere on virtue's side;
And all his strength from Scripture drew,

To hourly use applied.
That rule he prized, by that he fear'd,

He hatal, hoped, and loved ;
Nor ever frown'd, or sad appear'd,

But when his heart had roved.
For he was frail, as thou or I,

And evil felt within :
But, when he felt it, heaved a sigh

And loath'd the thought of sin.
Such lived Aspasio ; and at last

Callid up from earth to heaven,
That gulf of death triumphant pass'd,

By gales of blessing driven.
His joys be mine, each reader cries

When my last hour arrives ;
They shall be yours, my Verse replies,

Such only be your lives.

ON A SIMILAR OCCASION,

FOR THE YEAR 1790.

Ne commonentem recta sperne-Buchanan

Despise not my good counsel. He who sits from day to day,

Where the prison'd lark is hung, Heedless of his loudest lay,

Hardly knows what he has sang.

Where the watchman in his rou

Nightly lifts his voice on high, None, accustom'd to the sound,

Wakes the sooner for his cry. So your verse-man I, and clerk,

Yearly in my song proclaim Death at hand-yourselves his m

And the foe's unerring aim. Duly at my time I come,

Publishing to all aloudSoon the grave must be your hon

And your only suit, a shroud. But the monitory strain,

Oft repeated in your ears, Seems to sound too much in vain

Wins no notice, wakes no fears

Can a truth, by all confess'd

Of such magnitude and weight Grow, by being ost impress'd,

Trivial as a parrot's prate ? Pleasure's call attention wins,

Hear it often as we may ; New as ever seem our sins,

Though committed every day. Death and Judgment, Heaven an

These alone, so often heard, No more move us than the bell,

When some stranger is interr'dO then, ere the turf or tomb

Cover us from every eye, Spirit of instruction come, Make us learn that we must die ON A SIMILAR OCCASION,

FOR THE YEAR 1792.

Peliz, qul potult rerum cognoscere causas,
Atque metus omnes et inesorabile fatum
Subjecit pedibus, strepitumque Acherontis avari!-Virg.
Happy the mortal, who has traced efiects

Co their first cause, cast fear beneath his feet,
And Death, and roaring Hell's voracious tires !

TAANKLESS for favours from on high,

Man thinks he fades too soon, Though 'tis his privilege to die,

Would he improve the boon.
Bat be, not wise enough to scan

His bless'd concerns aright,
Would gladly stretch life's little span

To ages if he might.
To ages in a world of pain,

To ages, where he goes,
Gall’d by affliction's heavy chain,

And hopeless of repose.
Strange fondness of the human heart,

Enamour'd of its harm!
Strange world! that costs it so much smart

And still has power to charm.
Whence has the world her magic power ?

Why deem we death a foe ?
Recoil from weary life's best hour,

And covet longer woe?
The cause is Conscience-Conscience oft

Her tale of guilt renews :
Her voice is terrible though soft,

And dread of death ensues.
Then, anxious to be longer spared,

Man mourns his fleeting breath :
And evils then seem light, compared

With the approach of Death.

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Tis judgment shakes him ; there's the foar

That prompts the wish to stay:
He has incurr'd a long arrear,

And must despair to pay.
Pay!-follow Christ, and all is paid ;

His death your peace ensures;
Think on the grave where he was laid,

And calm descends to yours.

ON A SIMILAR OCCASION,

FOR THE YEAR 1793.

De sacris autem hæc sit una sententia, ut conserventur.

Cic. de La But let us all concur in this one sentiment, that things

sacred be inviolate.

He lives, who lives to God alone,

And all are dead beside ;
For other source than God is none

Whence life can be supplied.
To live to God is to requite

His love as best we may;
To make his precepts our delight,

His promises our stay.
But life, within a narrow ring

Of giddy joys comprised,
Is falsely named, and no such thing,

But rather death disguised.
Can life in them deserve the name,

Who only live to prove
For what poor toys they can disclaim

An endless life above ?
Who, much diseased, yet nothing fool;

Much menaced, nothing dread;
Have wounds which only God can book

Yet never ask his aidi

Who deem his house a useless place,

Faith, want of common sense ;
And ardour in the Christian race,

A hypocrite's pretence?
Who trample order; and the day,

Which God asserts his own,
Dishonour with unhallow'd play,

And worship chance alone?
If scorn of God's commands, impress d

On word and deed, imply
The better part of man unbless'd

With life that cannot die;
Such want it, and that want, uncured

Till man resigns his breath,
Speaks him a criminal assured

Of everlasting death.
Sad period to a pleasant course!

Yet so will God repay
Sabbaths profaned without remorso,

And mercy cast away

INSCRIPTION

FOR

THE TOMB OF MR. HAMILTON

Pause here, and think: a monitory rhyme
Demands one moment of thy fleeting time.

Consult life's silent Jock, thy bounding vein;
Seems it to say Health here has long to reiga
Hast thou the vigour of thy youth an eye
That beams delight; a heart untaught to sigh?
Yet fear. Youth, oft-times healthful and at ease,
Anticipates a day it never sees;
And many a tomb, like Hamilton's, aloud
Exclaims, . Prepare thee for an early shroud.'

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