There the wrapt anthem's ceaseless peal,
The countless harps of joy shall swell,
As truth its mysteries reveal,.
And pard'ning love its wonders tell.
JESUS CHRIST, the crown and glory of my head, the light of my eyes, the joy and consolation of my heart, my theme for ever; oh! thou my tongue, be thou prompt to speak his praise, and plead his cause; be my hands ready for his service; my heart filled with wonder, love, and astonishment; and mine eyes overflowing with gratitude to him, who freely gave himself a ransom for me. O grace! infinite, sovereign, free, and adorable grace-the choral sounds of heaven -the minstrelsy of Paradise *
LUXURIOUS Esau, not content to share
The frugal board that patriarch temp'rance spread;
O'er hill and dale he hunts the bounding deer,
Or timid hare from secret covert frights.
Where'er the bold invader bends his course,
The sylvan songsters cease the sprightly lay,
The harmless tenants of the wilds retreat,
Taught by the fall, degenerate man to fear,
Intuitive elude the murderous bow.
Far through the mant'ling wood, or devious fen,
His sport pursues, till weakened nature fails,
And craving appetite imperious grew.
Exhausted, pale, and faint, with footsteps slow,
He reach'd his brother's peaceful calm retreat,
Where wholesome viands, set in simple state
With savory fumes, invite the sweet repast.
Long had the perverse Esau set at nought
His father's counsels-with the proscrib'd race
Mingled the blood by heaven sanctified
For holy use, and gracious end design'd.
From Abram's root to Jesse's favour'd stem,
From whence the branch of Zion's hope should spring, His elder right to this high privilege
Abused, dishonour'd, every claim dissolv'd:
The slighted gift offended heaven recals.
And now by influence divine inspir'd,
The younger born the injur'd trust retrieves,
And with a sordid mess of pottage buys
A glorious birth-right, scepter'd kings might crave,
O thee, the source of every perfect good, Whose word from chaos bid fair order rise; Prescrib'd the bounds that check the rolling flood,
And spread the glories of the ambient skies:
Thy fiat still in herb, tree, fruit, and flower,
Creative calls their annual treasures forth; Nor less the golden ear proclaims thy power, Than when thou first spake nature into birth.
The spheres harmonious in their courses roll,
The changing seasons fill the measur'd round
Omniscience fills, and wisdom guides the whole,
Thy tender care pervades earth's farthest bound.
The bounteous product of the rip'ning year
The pleasing claims of gratitude renews;
While autumn in her mantling robes appear,
And smiling plenty wide thy gifts diffuse.
While every object prompts the song of praise,
And all around inspires with calm delight,
The fading field to reason's eye pourtrays
A moral richly fraught, if scan'd aright.
The world of nature was not form'd thus wise
Alone to gratify the meaner part;
The twofold plan that brings to sense supplies,
Conveys some useful lesson to the heart.
In every varying form that nature wears,
As in a glass the moral world is seen;
The falling leaf, like man's declining years,
Precedes the wintry grave that shuts the scene.
To trace effects up to their parent source,
Whence radiant truth, in bright effulgence springs,
To watch in Providence's mysterious course,
Those counsels deep that good from evil brings,—
Rewards the search; for wisdom's ways are peace,
And all her paths with unguents thickly spread;
And when this little round of things shall cease,
With living honours crowns her vot❜ry's head.
'Tis thine alone, eternal God, to give
Pure wisdom's lamp-the "day-spring from on "high;"
Oh! may it guide our steps, till each arrive
Where Eden's fruits and flowers never die.
Whose rich immunities o'er earth's wide round
The nations bless, till time's long annals close,
When sense was gratify'd, and thought awake,
Insulted reason reassumes the throne
With frowning brow, and dread remonstrance bids
Reflection turn and view the shameful deed.
Contrition wrings the penitential tear,
And piercing anguish tears the culprit's heart.
Alas! too late; Omnipotence incens'd,
Refus'd to hear, the day of grace is pass'd,
The grant transfer'd, and sicken'd hope expires.
Whose bosom burns not with indignant fire,
And execration 'gainst a wretch so vile,
Who dar'd to sport with Majesty divine,
And basely cast a pearl so rich away?
Pause ye, a moment pause, who daily scorn
The proffer'd gift of pard'ning love divine,
And trample under foot the precious blood
Of God's own Son, that purest source of bliss,
Whose holy streams the throne of mercy laves,
And crowns with light, and life, and fadeless joy.
All this contemn'd-for what? A mess of pottage;
Less, for fleeting forms of fancied good
That tempt the eye, and still elude the grasp.
Thus the vague meteor sporting on the breeze,
Misleads the thoughtless trav'ler from his path
To howling wilds, and death infested dens;
Then leaves him dark and hopeless, to lament
The vain pursuit that led his steps astray
From peaceful scenes and haunts of cheerful day.
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