« ForrigeFortsæt »
If not, why am I subject to
Or why has man the will and pow'r
Yet, let not this too much, my son,
The poor, oppressed, honest man,
O death! the poor man's dearest friend,
The great, the wealthy, fear thy blow,
But, Oh! a blest relief to those
That weary-laden mourn!
PROSPECT OF DEATH.
O THOU unknown, Almighty Cause
If I have wander'd in those paths
Of life I ought to shun;
As something, loudly, in my
Thou know'st that Thou hast formed me
Where human weakness has come short,
Or frailty stept aside,
Do thou, All Good! for such thou art,
Where with intention I have err'd,
No other plea I have,
But, Thou art good; and goodness still
Delighteth to forgive.
WHY am I loth to leave this earthly scene! Have I so found it full of pleasing charms! Some drops of joy with draughts of ill between: Some gleams of sunshine 'mid renewing
Is it departing pangs my soul alarms?
Or death's unlovely, dreary, dark abode? For guilt, for guilt, my terrors are in arms; I tremble to approach an angry GOD,
And justly smart beneath his sin-avenging rod.
Fain would I say, 'Forgive my foul offence!"
Again exalt the brute and sink the man ; Then how should I for heavenly mercy pray, Who act so counter heavenly mercy's plan? Who sin so oft have mourn'd, yet to temptation
O Thou, great Governor of all below!
To rule their torrent in th' allowed line,