connections. What resource can this world afford them? It presents a dark and dreary waste, through which there does not issue a single ray of comfort.
2. Every delusive prospect of ambition is now at an end; long experience of mankind, an experience very different from what the open and generous soul of youth had fondly dreamt of, has rendered the heart almost inaccessible to new friendships. The principal sources of activity are taken away, when those for whom we labour, are cut off from us; those who animated, and who sweetened, all the toils of life.
3. Where then can the soul find refuge, but in the bosom of religion? There she is admitted to those prospects of Providence and futurity, which alone can warm and fill the heart. I speak here of such as retain the feelings of humanity; whom misfortunes have softened, and perhaps rendered more delicately sensible; not of such as possess that stupid insensibility, which some are pleased to dignify with the name of philosophy.
4. It might therefore be expected, that those philosophers, who think they stand in no need themselves of the assistance of religion to support their virtue, and who never feel the want of its consolation, would yet have the humanity to consider the very different situation of the rest of mankind; and not endeavour to deprive them of what habit, at least, if they will not allow it to be nature, has made necessary to their morals, and to their happiness.
5. It might be expected, that humanity would prevent them from breaking into the last retreat of the unfortunate, who can no longer be objects of their envy or resentment, and tearing from them their only remaining comfort. The attempt to ridicule religion may be agreeable to some, by relieving them from restraint upon their pleasures; and may render others very miserable, by making them doubt those truths, in which they were most deeply interested; but it can convey real good and happiness to no one individual. GREGORY.
1. Be wise to-day; 'tis madness to defer:
Next day the fatal precedent will plead;
Thus on, till wisdom is push'd out of life.
Procrastination is the thief of time.
Year after year it steals, till all are fled;
And to the mercies of a moment leaves
The vast concerns of an eternal scene.
2. Of man's miraculous mistakes, this bears
The palm "That all men are about to live:"
For ever on the brink of being born.
All pay themselves the compliment to think,
They one day, shall not drivel; and their pride
On this reversion, takes up ready praise;
At least their own; their future selves applauds;
How excellent that life they ne'er will lead!
3. Time lodg'd in their own hands is folly's vails;
That lodg'd in fate's, to wisdom they consign;
The thing they can't but purpose, they postpone
'Tis not in folly, not to scorn a fool;
And scarce in human wisdom to do more.
All promise is poor dilatory man;
And that through ev'ry stage.
When young, indeed,
In full content we sometimes nobly rest, Unanxious for ourselves; and only wish, As duteous sons, our fathers were more wise. At thirty man suspects himself a fool; Knows it at forty, and reforms his plan; At fifty chides this infamous delay; Pushes his prudent purpose to resolve; In all the magnanimity of thought, Resolves, and re-resolves, then dies the same. 5. And why? Because he thinks himself immortal. All men think all men mortal, but themselves; Themselves, when some alarming shock of fate Strikes through their wounded hearts the sudden dread; But their hearts wounded, like the wounded air, Soon close; where, past the shaft, no trace is found.
6. As from the wing no scar the sky retains;
The parted wave no furrow from the keel;
So dies in human hearts the thought of death.
Ev'n with the tender tear which Nature sheds
O'er those we love, we drop it in the grave.
YOUNG.
Vorses supposed to be written by Alexander Selkirk, during his solitary abode in the Island of Juan Fernandez.
1. I am monarch of all I survey,
My right there is none to dispute;
From the centre all round to the sea,"
I am lord of the fowl and the brute.
Oh solitude! where are the charms,
That sages have seen in thy face?
Better dwell in the midst of alarms,
Than reign in this horrible place.
2. I am out of humanity's reach;
I must finish my journey alone;
Never hear the sweet music of speech;
I start at the sound of my own.
The beasts that roam over the plain,
My form with indifference see:
They are so unacquainted with man,
Their tameness is shocking to me.
3. Society, friendship, and love,
Divinely bestow'd upon man,
Oh, had I the wings of a dove,
How soon would I taste you again!
My sorrows I then might assuage
In the ways of religion and truth:
Might learn from the wisdom of age,
And be cheer'd by the sallies of youth.
4. Religion, what treasure untold,
Resides in that heavenly word!
More precious than silver or gold,
Or all that this earth can afford.
But the sound of the church-going bell,
These valleys and rocks never heard;
Ne'er sigh'd at the sound of a knell,
Or smil'd when a sabbath appear'd.
5. Ye winds that have made me your sport,
Convey to this desolate shore,
Some cordial endearing report
Of a land I shall visit no more.
My friends, do they now and then send
A wish or a thought after me?
O tell me I yet have a friend,
Though a friend I am never to see.
6. How fleet is a glance of the mind?
Compar'd with the speed of its flight,
The tempest itself lags behind,
And the swift-winged arrows of light.
When I think of my own native land,
In a moment I seem to be there;
But alas! recollection at hand,
Soon hurries me back to despair.
7. But the sea-fowl has gone to her nest,
The beast is laid down in his lair;
Even here is a season of rest,
And I to my cabin repair.
There's mercy in every place; ~
And mercy encouraging thought!
Gives even affliction a grace,
And reconciles man to his lot.
LESSON XCIII.
Christ's Crucifixion.
Now darkness fell
On all the region round; the shrouded sun From the impen'tent earth withdrew his light: "I thirst," the Saviour cri'd; lifting up
My God, my God!
Ah! why hast thou forsaken me?" exclaim'd.
Yet deem him not forsaken of his God!
Beware that error. "Twas the mortal part
Of his compounded nature, breathing forth
Its last sad agony, that so complain'd:
Doubt not that vail of sorrow was withdrawn,
And heav'nly comfort to his soul vouchsaf'd,
Ere thus he cri'd, "Father! into thy hands
My spirit I commend." Then bow'd his head
And died. Now Gabriel and his heavenly choir
Of minist'ring angels hov'ring o'er the cross
Receiv'd his spirit, at length from mortal pangs
And fleshly pris'n set free, and bore it thence
Upon their wings rejoicing. Then behold
A prodigy, that to the world announc'd
A new religion and dissolv'd the old:
4. The temple's sacred vail was rent in twain
From top to bottom, 'midst th' attesting shocks
Of earthquake and the rending up of graves:
Now those mysterious symbols, heretofore
Curtain'd from vulgar eyes, and holiest deem'd
Of holies, were display'd to public view:
The mercy-seat, with its cherubic wings
O'ershadowed, and the golden ark beneath
Cov'ring the testimony, now through the rent
Of that dissever'd vail first saw the light:
5. A world redeem'd had now no farther need
Of types and emblems, dimly shadowing forth
An angry Deity withdrawn from sight
And canopied in clouds. Him, face to face,
Now in full light reveal'd, the dying breath
Of his dear Son appeas'd, and purchas'd peace
And reconcilement for offending man.
Thus the partition wall, by Moses built,
By Christ was levell'd, and the Gentile world
Enter'd the breach, by their great Captain led
Up to the throne of grace, opening himself
Through his own flesh a new and living way.
7. Then were the oracles of God made known
To all the nations, sprinkled by the blood
Of Jesus, and baptiz'd into his death;
So was the birthright of the elder born,
Heirs of the promise, forfeited; whilst they,
Whom sin, had erst in bondage held, made free
From sin, and servants of the living God,
Now gain'd the gift of God, eternal life.
Soon as those signs and prodigies were seen
Of those who watch'd the cross, conviction smote
Their fear-struck hearts. The sun, at noon-day dark:
The earth convulsive underneath their feet,
And the firm rocks, in shiver'd fragments rent,
Rous'd them at once to tremble and believe.
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