« PreviousContinue »
Upon the Epiphany, and the three wise Men of the East coming to worship Jesus.
A COMET, dangling in the air,
Presag'd the ruin both of death and sin;
In this blest infant King's propitious eye,
But, Lord, with what shall we
W' have nothing but ourselves, and scarce that neither,
Yet it is soft, and may
Accept it, Lord, and say, this thou hadst rather;
Thy holy image, and it shall outshine
The beauty of the golden mine. Amen.
A MEDITATION OF THE FOUR LAST THINGS, DEATH, JUDGMENT, HEAVEN, AND HELL;
FOR THE TIME OF LENT ESPECIALLY.
A Meditation of Death.
Thou hadst a sting once, like thy sire,
Thy foolish spite buried thy sting
In the profound and wide
And now thou art become a tame and harmless thing,
That our triumphant God, to punish thee
Hath snatch'd the keys of hell out of thy hand,
A porter to the gate of life, thy mortal enemy.
Let us into the courts of heaven, through thee!
Of the Day of Judgment.
GREAT Judge of all, how we vile wretches quake!
Our marrow freezes, when we think
Of thine ire,
And horrid phials, thou shalt make
When thou the winepress of thy wrath shalt tread With feet of lead.
Sinful rebellious clay! what unknown place
When earth shall vanish from thy sight,
Thy laws, shall from thy presence take their flight,
Thy enemies, endure to see
So bright, so killing majesty?
Mercy, dear Saviour: thy judgment seat
On thy book
Of life; Lord, we can read the saving Jesus, here, And in his name our own salvation see:
Lord, set us free;
The book of sin
Is cross'd within;
Our debts are paid by thee.
O BEAUTEOUS God, uncircumscribed treasure
Of an eternal pleasure,―
Where thou prepar'st a glorious place
That builds his hopes on thy merit,
Where the great King's transparent throne
There the eye
Of diamonds, rubies, chrysoprase,
Makes an eternal clarity.
When thou thy jewels up dost bind, that day
Remember us, we pray,-
And the crystal, 'bove the skies,
There thou may'st appoint us place
In the scroll
Of life and blissfulness enrol,
That we may praise thee to eternity.
HORRID darkness, sad and sore;
In the want of glorious light!
In the accursed lake:
A viper from the fire
That knows not moments from eternity.
Fill thy temple evermore.
O mighty God,
Let not thy bruising rod
And none be left to glorify Thy name, and tell How thou hast sav'd our souls from hell.
On the Conversion of St. Paul.
FULL of wrath, his threatening breath
By a voice and a light,
It would not show so glorious and so bright.
That day might break within;
Make him of a child of wrath
Lord, curb us in our dark and sinful way;
We humbly pray;
When we down horrid precipices run
That this may be our story.