THE COVENANTER'S TOMB.
CURTAINED with fluttering leaves, and laid to rest,
Where the warm splendors of the tranquil west
Steal o'er thy flowery couch and share thy sleep,
When stars are trembling through the darkening deep;
And shadowy moor and sun-tinged peak prolong
No more the laverock's extacy of song;
We ask not art to aid us, nor presume
With its unhallow'd hands to raise thy tomb.
He, whose thou wert, had reared it when he spread
The solemn cope of heaven above thy head;
Walled thy death-chamber with th' eternal hills,
And lit its silence with the flash of rills;
That he who, living, owned no Power beside,
Might rest among its records when he died.
Oft have the rock-ribbed vale and heathery height,
The woodland shivering in the morning light,
The glowing isles that lie entranced, or drift,
In saintly splendour o'er the bending lift;
And all the harmonies of earth and heaven,
Such radiant witness to their framer given,
That they who worshipped in these wilds, have found
A deep heart-healing unction breathed around;
Have owned the Power that fashioned earth, sea, air,
And wrote his sovereign claim to Godhead there;
But urged in lines of mightier love that claim,
And "magnified his Word above his name!"
For whilst the earth below, and skies above,
Paid glorious homage to their Maker's love,
The richer volume of his grace address'd
Th' unquiet conscience, and the heart found rest;
And as each face gave back the ray divine,
It shone intensely as the day's decline,
When breathless autumn gemmed with fruit, receives The silent rain-drops on her starry leaves;
Pours o'er the golden hills serenest light,
And sinks in smiles upon the breast of night.
So he who here held forth the lamp of life,
Withdrew in meekness from the gathering strife
When kingly zeal in vain essay'd to bind
The God-ward workings of th' almighty mind;
And with its arm of weakness guard the ground,
Which heaven had thrown a wall of fire around.
-Thus, as he dropped upon his darksome bed,
Light streamed at evening-tide around his head;
And whilst Earth's gibbering tempests rolled away,
And all around in purest radiance lay;
Th' unfettered spirit drank the scene, and wore
The tinge of heaviness and thirst no more,
But thus, absorbed in holiest ardours spake-
"I shall be SATISFIED When I awake!"
“For I am in a strait betwixt two, having a desire to depart, and to be with Christ, which is far better."
HAPPY the man, who ever ready stands,
With an uncareful heart, and open hands;
Above he ever lifts his wishful sight,
His soul, released from sense, has no delight
In earth's philosophies, nor takes he hold
On vainer pomps, the love of power or gold;
From this world's false pursits for ever free,
He glories in the best of liberty!
Yet bears with all a quiet, humble mind,
His boast from selfishness and pride refined;
He thus prepar'd, without a coward start,
Hears the judge knocking at his watchful heart;
But well resolv'd and firm, he can rejoice,
And answer gladly, with unfaltering voice-
"Master, come in! lo, I expectant wait,
To hear thy summons sounding at the gate;
Lord of my life, thou'rt no unwelcome guest,
Enter, and take possession of my breast,
Resign'd am I to ev'ry law of thine,
Thy sweet compelling law of love divine,
For what thy will may be, prepar'd am I,
Still to live on, or instantly to die;
Ready am I from all below to part,
Thou hast, 'tis thine, this once reluctant heart!"
So meditates with solemn thought devout,
All mortal loves, and vanities shut out,
The heir of glory, he whose longing breast,
Pants for the haven of eternal rest!
'Tis thus he prays when tiring, wan disease,
Wears out his days, and robs his nights of ease;
Nor only then,-if health revive his frame,
His hope mounts upward in a steady flame,
When dear affections sweetly twine and bind
In gentle bonds of love the willing mind,
E'en then the good man heavenward lifts his eyes,
His soul's best home is far beyond the skies.
This is the true disciple's constant prayer:-
"Father on thee, I cast my every care,
My sharpest care, the love that makes me grieve,
Because I must dear friends and kindred leave;
O let me love, but teach this earth-bound heart,
From all it dotes on here, without despair to part."
Here shines the wisdom of the christian's lore,-
The more he learns its truths divine, the more
He prizes dear companions God has given,
Yet draws no hope, and weans no thought from heaven.
Thus taught, thus praying, to his soul 'tis sweet
As dew on flowers, at ev'ry turn to meet
Some good on angel-wings his fainting spirit greet.
New mercies every rising morn supplied,
Exalt to grateful joy, but not to pride.
To joy, Oh, yes; favours so much divine,
Across Life's cloudy vale, so sweetly shine,
With warm reviving rays, an earnest bright
Of heaven's eternal day, for ever fair and light.
Then as he stands on Jordan's stormy brink,
And sees his sun decline away and sink
Behind those dark mysterious clouds that gloom
The oblivious regions of the mighty tomb,
No terrors overwhelm his pious soul,
His faith can every mortal fear control;
He shudders not on life's extremest brink.
The world's frail denizen may backward shrink,
With cries and tears, and vain imploring shrieks.
The Christian's eye a noble hope bespeaks;
No frenzied starts disturb its cheerful calm,
Or if tears gush they're sweet as Gilead's balm,-
The overflowing of a happy heart,
Smiling in death, desiring to depart;
The rising waves around him dash and roar,
Lift him from land, and bear him from the shore,
He loses sight of earth, and earthly things,
Faith gives him strength, Hope bears him on her wings,
Above the chilling waters' fearful strife,
To God his Father, and immortal life!
"HE MAKETH THE WRATH OF MAN TO PRAISE HIM." SLOWLY the morning sunbeam steals
Forth from the blushing east;
And as his glory he reveals,
And tinges all the distant hills,
Each star his brighter radiance feels,
And sinks to quiet rest.
Hail to thee! glorious king of day!
Ordain'd by Heaven's decree;
Pursue thy bright and trackless way,
Thine undisputed sceptre sway,
Illumine with thine orient ray,
The earth, the sky, the sea!
But while the heavenly host obeys,
And leaves the world thine own;
While growing light around thee plays,
And splendour dims the anxious gaze,
Whence is this strange and sudden haze,
Where is thy glory flown?
Heaven is thine own-thy wide domain;
And earth, illumed by thee,
Shall bloom in beauty once again,
Thy smile shall gild each emerald plain;
Yet earth disputes thy gentle reign,
And dims thy radiancy.
The very plains thy smile hath blest,
No look of love return;
And on earth's green and flow'ry breast,
By thee in robes of beauty drest,
Dark clouds of mist and vapour rest,
And rise to dim thine urn.
But a voice answer'd-"Ponder well
This scene so bright and fair;
And every varied colour tell,
That paints the flow'ret's fairy bell,
Some agency invisible
Is surely working there!
"Those very mists which seek to chase
My splendours from thy view,
Exhaled by my all-powerful rays,
As morn or evening twilight plays,
Return again to Nature's face
In cool refreshing dew!"
Christian! by heaven ordained and blest,
A beacon in life's way;
While round thee clouds and darkness rest,
Still, still obey heaven's high behest,
Maligned, assaulted, grieved, opprest,
Still hold thine even way!
So shall oppression's poisoned dart
Fall harmless at thy feet;
So shall the tempter's guileful art,
Powerless to wound thy steadfast heart,
Return and act a different part,
The bitter yielding sweet!
WHY shakes the earth? why rages thus the deep?
Why hides the sun his head of radiant gold?
And cavern'd graves their massy doors unfold?
And spirits start from death's enchaining sleep?
Rocks rend! earth yawns! all nature seems to weep!
And one dark sea of clouds o'er heaven is roll'd!
What means this mighty pomp of woe? Behold!
Rais'd on the cross, on Calvary's blood-stained steep,
The Prince of Mercy sighs his soul away,
And cruel thorns enwreath his pallid brow,
While with his dying lips he murmurs low--
""Tis finished:" and to realms of perfect day,
From scenes of dark, unutterable woe,
The mighty victor wings his conquering way.
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