Was offered freely, as 'twas freely sent,
Without all money, and without all price.
Thus, they have all, by willing act, despised
Me, and my Son, and sanctifying Spirit.
But now no longer shall they mock or scorn:
The day of Grace and Mercy is complete,
And Godhead from their Misery absolved.
So saying, He, the Father infinite,
Turning, addressed Messiah, where he sat
Exalted gloriously, at his right hand.
This day belongs to justice, and to Thee,
Eternal Son! thy right for service done
Abundantly fulfilling all my will;
By promise thine, from all eternity,
Made in the ancient Covenant of Grace;
And thine, as most befitting, since in thee
Divine and human meet, impartial Judge,
Consulting thus the interest of both.
Go then, my Son, divine similitude!
Image express of Deity unseen!
The book of my remembrance take; and take
The golden crowns of life, due to the saints;
And take the seven last thunders ruinous;
Thy armour take; gird on thy sword, thy sword
Of justice ultimate, reserved, till now
Unsheathed, in thy eternal armoury;
And mount the living chariot of God.
Thou goest not now, as once to Calvary,
To be insulted, buffeted, and slain :
Thou goest not now with battle, and the voice
Of war, as once against the rebel hosts:
Thou goest a Judge, and find'st the guilty bound:
Thou goest to prove, condemn, acquit, reward;
Not unaccompanied; all these, my saints,
Go with thee, glorious retinue! to sing
Thy triumph, and participate thy joy;
And I, the Omnipresent, with thee go;
And with thee, all the glory of my throne.
Thus said the Father; and the Son beloved,
Omnipotent, Omniscient, Fellow God,
Arose resplendent with Divinity;
And He the book of God's remembrance took;
And took the seven last thunders ruinous;
And took the crowns of life, due to the saints;
His armour took; girt on his sword, his sword
Of justice ultimate, reserved, till now
Unsheathed, in the eternal armoury ;
And up the living chariot of God
Ascended, signifying all complete.
And now the Trump of wonderous melody,
By man or angel never heard before,
Sounded with thunder, and the march began-
Not swift, as cavalcade, on battle bent,
But, as became procession of a judge,
Solemn, magnificent, majestic, slow:
Moving sublime with glory infinite,
And numbers infinite, and awful song.
Alone, held every eye upon Him fixed!
The wicked saw his majesty severe,
And those who pierced Him, saw his face with
clouds
Of glory circled round, essential bright!
And to the rocks and mountains called in vain,
To hide them from the fierceness of his wrath:
Almighty power their flight restrained, and held
Them bound immoveable before the bar.
The righteous, undismayed and bold-beat
proof
This day of fortitude sincere-sustained
By inward faith, with acclamations loud,
Received the coming of the Son of Man;
And, drawn by love, inclined to his approach,
Moving to meet the brightness of his face.
Meantime, 'tween good and bad, the Judge his
wheels
Stayed, and, ascending, sat upon the great
White Throne, that morning founded there by
Omnipotent, and built on righteousness
And truth. Behind, before, on every side,
In native, and reflected blaze of bright
Celestial equipage, the myriads stood,
That with his marching came; rank above rank
Rank above rank, with shield and flaming sword
'Twas silence all: and quick, on right and left,
A mighty angel spread the book of God's
Remembrance; and, with conscience now sincere
All men compared the record written there,
By finger of Omniscience, and received
Their sentence, in themselves, of joy or woe;
Condemned or justified, while yet the Judge,
Waited, as if to let them prove themselves.
The righteous, in the book of life displayed,
Rejoicing, read their names; rejoicing, read
Their faith for righteousness received, and deeds
Of holiness, as proof of faith complete.
The wicked, in the book of endless death,
Spread out to left, bewailing read their names:
And read beneath them, Unbelief, and fruit
Of unbelief, vile, unrepented deeds,
Now unrepentable for evermore;
And gave approval of the woe affixed.
This done, the Omnipotent, Omniscient Judge
Rose infinite, the sentence to pronounce,
The sentence of eternal woe or bliss!
All glory heretofore seen or conceived;
All majesty, annihilated, dropped,
That moment, from remembrance, and was lost
And silence, deepest hitherto esteemed,
Seemed noisy to the stillness of this hour.
Comparisons I seek not; nor should find,
If sought that silence, which all being held,
When God's Almighty Son, from off the walls
They passed the gate of heaven, which many a Of heaven the rebel angels threw, accursed,
Opened either way, to let the glory forth
Of this great march. And now the sons of men
Beheld their coming, which, before, they heard;
Beheld the glorious countenance of God!
All light was swallowed up, all objects seen,
Faded: and the Incarnate, visible
So still, that all creation heard their fall
Distinctly, in the lake of burning fire,-
Was now forgotten, and every silence else.
All being rational, created then,
Around the judgment seat, intensely listened:
No creature breathed: man, angel, devil, stood
And listened; the spheres stood still, and every star
Stood still and listened; and every particle
Remotest in the womb of matter stood,
Bending to hear, devotional and still.
And thus upon the wicked first, the Judge
Pronounced the sentence, written before of old;
"Depart from me, ye cursed, into the fire
Prepared eternal in the Gulf of Hell,
Where ye shall weep and wail for evermore;
Reaping the harvest which your sins have sown."
So saying, God grew dark with utter wrath:
And drawing now the sword, undrawn before,
Which through the range of infinite, all around,
A gleam of fiery indignation threw,
He lifted up his hand omnipotent,
And down among the damned the burning edge
Plunged; and from forth his arrowy quiver sent,
Emptied, the seven last thunders ruinous,
Which, entering, withered all their souls with fire.
Then first was vengeance, first was ruin seen!
Red, unrestrained, vindictive, final, fierce!
They, howling, fled to west among the dark;
But fled not these the terrors of the Lord:
Pursued, and driven beyond the Gulf, which
frowns
Impassable, between the good and bad,
And downward far remote to left, oppressed
And scorched with the avenging fires, begun
Burning within them,-they upon the verge
Of Erebus, a moment pausing stood,
And saw, below, the unfathomable lake,
Tossing with tides of dark, tempestuous wrath;
And would have looked behind; but greater wrath
Behind, forbade, which now no respite gave
To final misery: God, in the grasp
Of his Almighty strength, took them upraised,
And threw them down, into the yawning pit
Of bottomless perdition, ruined, damned,
Fast bound in chains of darkness evermore;
And Second Death, and the Undying Worm,
Opening their horrid jaws, with hideous yell,
Falling, received their everlasting prey.
A groan returned, as down they sunk, and sunk,
And ever sunk, among the utter dark!
A groan returned! the righteous heard the groan;
The groan of all the reprobate, when first
They felt damnation sure! and heard Hell close!
And heard Jehovah, and his love retire!
A groan returned! the righteous heard the groan:
As if all misery, all sorrow, grief,
All pain, all anguish, all despair, which all
Have suffered, or shall feel, from first to last
Eternity, had gathered to one pang,
And issued in one groan of boundless woe!
And now the wall of hell, the outer wall, First gateless then, closed round them; that which thou
Hast seen, of fiery adamant, emblazed
With hideous imagery, above all hope,
Above all flight of fancy, burning high;
And guarded evermore by Justice, turned
To Wrath, that hears, unmoved, the endless groan
Of those wasting within; and sees, unmoved,
The endless tear of vain repentance fall.
Nor ask if these shall ever be redeemed. They never shall: not God, but their own sin
Condemns them: what could be done, as thou hast heard,
Has been already done; all has been tried,
That wisdom infinite, and boundless grace,
Working together, could devise, and all
Has failed; why now succeed? Though God
should stoop,
Inviting still, and send his Only Son
To offer grace in hell, the pride that first
Refused, would still refuse; the unbelief,
Still unbelieving, would deride and mock;
Nay more, refuse, deride, and mock; for sin,
Increasing still, and growing day and night
Into the essence of the soul, become
All sin, makes what in time seemed probable,-
Seemed probable, since God invited then-
For ever now impossible. Thus they,
According to the eternal laws which bind
All creatures, bind the Uncreated One,
Though we name not the sentence of the Judge-
Must daily grow in sin and punishment,
Made by themselves their necessary lot,
Unchangeable to all eternity.
What lot! what choice! I sing not, cannot sing. Here, highest seraphs tremble on the lyre, And make a sudden pause! but thou hast seen. And here the bard a moment held his hand, As one who saw more of that horrid woe Than words could utter; and again resumed.
Nor yet had vengeance done. The guilty Earth
Inanimate, debased, and stained by sin,
Seat of rebellion, of corruption, long,
And tainted with mortality throughout,
God sentenced next; and sent the final fires
Of ruin forth, to burn and to destroy.
The saints its burning saw; and thou mayst see.
Look yonder, round the lofty golden walls
And galleries of New Jerusalem,
Among the imagery of wonders past;
Look near the southern gate; look, and behold,
On spacious canvass, touched with living hues,-
The Conflagration of the ancient earth,
The handiwork of high archangel, drawn
From memory of what he saw that day.
See how the mountains, how the valleys burn!
The Andes burn, the Alps, the Apennines;
Taurus and Atlas, all the islands burn;
The Ocean burns, and rolls his waves of flame.
See how the lightnings, barbed, red with wrath.
Sent from the quiver of Omnipotence,
Cross and recross the fiery gloom, and burn
Into the centre! burn without, within,
And help the native fires, which God awoke,
And kindled with the fury of his wrath.
As inly troubled, now she seems to shake;
The flames, dividing, now a moment fall;
And now in one conglomerated mass,
Rising, they glow on high, prodigious blaze:
Then fall and sink again, as if, within,
The fuel, burnt to ashes, was consumed.
So burned the Earth upon that dreadful day;
Yet not to full annihilation burned:
The essential particles of dust remained,
Purged by the final, sanctifying fires,
From all corruption; from all stain of sin,
Done there by man or devil, purified
The essential particles remained, of which
God built the world again, renewed, improved,
With fertile vale, and wood of fertile bough;
And streams of milk and honey, flowing song;
And mountains cinctured with perpetual green;
In cline and season fruitful, as at first,
When Adam woke, unfallen, in Paradise.
And God, from out the fount of native light,
A handful took of beams, and clad the sun
Again in glory; and sent forth the moon
To borrow thence her wonted rays, and lead
Her stars, the virgin daughters of the sky.
And God revived the winds, revived the tides;
And touching her from his Almighty hand,
With force centrifugal, sho onward ran,
Coursing her wonted path, to stop no more.
Delightful scene of new inhabitants!
As thou, this morn, in passing hither, sawst.
![[blocks in formation]](https://books.google.co.in/books/content?id=Qh9sAAAAIAAJ&output=html_text&pg=PA166&img=1&zoom=3&hl=en&q=%22+%C3%92%C2%A8%C3%83%E2%82%AC%E2%82%AC%E2%82%AC%E2%82%AC0+%27+++%C3%AD%C3%AE%C3%B1++5+++%C3%BF%C5%A0%C3%A2++%C3%81++++%E2%80%9D%C3%AC%C2%A8++%E2%80%A6++++%C3%B0%C2%AB%E2%80%9E&cds=1&sig=ACfU3U1jMqb-zat9QvClTM0LY-GMYS4NEw&edge=0&edge=stretch&ci=555,148,386,232)
Thus sung they God, their Saviour; and them.
selves
Prepared complete to enter now with Christ,
Their living Head, into the Holy Place.
Behold the daughter of the King, the bride,
All glorious within! the bride adorned,
Comely in broidery of gold! behold,
This done, the glorious Judge, turning to She comes, apparelled royally, in robes
With countenance of love unspeakable,
Beheld the righteous, and approved them thus:
"Ye blessed of my Father, come; ye just,
Enter the joy eternal of your Lord;
Receive your crowns, ascend, and sit with Me,
At God's right hand, in glory evermore."
Thus said the Omnipotent, Incarnate God:
And waited not the homage of the crowns,
Already thrown before him; nor the loud
Amen of universal, holy praise;
But turned the living chariot of fire,
And swifter now-as joyful to declare
This day's proceedings in his Father's court,
And to present the number of his sons
Before the throne-ascended up to heaven.
And all his saints, and all his angel bands,
As, glorious, they on high ascended, sung
Glory to God, and to the Lamb !-they sung
Messiah, fairer than the sons of men,
And altogether lovely. Grace is poured;
Into thy lips, above all measure poured;
And therefore God hath blessed thee evermore.
Of perfect righteousness; fair as the sun;
With all her virgins, her companions fair;
Into the Palace of the King she comes !
She comes to dwell for evermore! Awake,
Eternal harps! awake, awake, and sing!
The Lord, the Lord, our God Almighty, reigns!
Thus the Messiah, with the hosts of bliss,
Entered the gates of heaven-unquestioned now-
Which closed behind them, to go out no more,
And stood accepted in his Father's sight;
Before the glorious, everlasting throne,
Presenting all his saints; not one was lost,
Of all that he in Covenant received:
And having given the kingdom up, he sat,
Where now he sits and reigns, on the right hand
Of glory; and our God is all in all.
Thus have I sung beyond thy first request,
Rolling my numbers o'er the track of man,
The world at dawn, at mid-day, and decline;
Time gone, the righteous saved, the wicked
And God's eternal government approved.
THOMAS KIBBLE HERVEY was born in Paisley, Scotland, Feb. 3, 1799. He studied both at Cambridge and at Oxford, but did not take a degree. After spending a short time in the study of law, he adopted literature as a profession. In 1824 he published "Australia, and other Poems," and in 1829 "The Poetical SketchBook," which included the former volume. Meantime he had become a frequent contributor to periodicals and annuals, and in 1830 he published anonymously "The Devil's Progress," a
MORN on the waters! and purple and bright,
Bursts on the billows the flushing of light!
O'er the glad waves, like a child of the sun,
See the tall vessel goes gallantly on;
Full to the breeze she unbosoms her sail,
| satire. He became an editorial writer for the London Athenæum, and from 1846 to 1854 was its sole editor. He published also "The Book of Christmas," and "England's Helicon in the Nineteenth Century," and left an unfinished work entitled "Illustrations of Modern Sculp. ture." He died at Kentish Town, February 17, 1859, leaving a widow and one son. Mrs. Hervey (Eleanora Louisa Montagu), who also wrote poetry and fairy tales, has edited his poems, with a memoir.
'Tis thus with our life, as it passes along, Like a vessel at sea, amid sunshine and song! Gayly we glide, in the gaze of the world, With streamers afloat, and with canvas furled;
All gladness and glory to wandering eyes,
Yet chartered by sorrow, and freighted with
sighs!-
And her pennant streams onward, like hope in Faded and false is the aspect it wears,
The winds come round her, in murmur and song,
And the surges rejoice as they bear her along!
Upward she points to the golden-edged clouds,
And the sailor sings gayly, aloft in the shrouds!
Onward she glides, amid ripple and spray,
Over the waters-away, and away!
Bright as the visions of youth, ere they part,
Passing away, like a dream of the heart!-
Who-as the beautiful pageant sweeps by,
Music around her, and sunshine on high-
Pauses to think amid glitter and glow,
Oh, there be hearts that are breaking below!
Night on the waves!—and the moon is on high,
Hung, like a gem, on the brow of the sky;
Treading its depths, in the power of her might,
And turning the clouds, as they pass her, to
light!
Look to the waters!-Asleep on their breast,
Seems not the ship like an island of rest?
Bright and alone on the shadowy main,
Like a heart-cherished home on some desolate
Who as she smiles in the silvery light,
Spreading her wings on the bosom of night,
Alone on the deep-as the moon in the sky-
A phantom of beauty!-could deem with a sigh,
That so lovely a thing is the mansion of sin,
And souls that are smitten lie bursting within!
Who-as he watches her silently gliding-
Remembers that wave after wave is dividing
Bosoms that sorrow and guilt could not sever,
Hearts that are parted and broken forever!
Or deems that he watches, afloat on the wave,
The death-bed of hope, or the young spirit's
grave!
As the smiles we put on-just to cover our
And the withering thoughts which the world cannot know,
Like heart-broken exiles lie burning below; While the vessel drives on to that desolate shore
Where the dreams of our childhood are vanished and o'er !
TO A GIRL WEEPING.
MINE eyes-that may not see thee smile—
Are glad to see thee weep;
Thy spirit's calm, this weary while,
Has been too dark and deep!
Alas, for him who has but tears,
To mark his path of pain!
But oh, his long and lonely years,
Who may not weep again!
Thou know'st, young mourner! thou hast been,
Through good and ill, to me,
Amid a bleak and blighted scene,
A single leafy tree:
A star within a stormy sky;
An island on the main; And I have prayed in agony,
To see thee weep again!
Thou ever wert a thing of tears,
When but a playful child,
A very sport of hopes and fears,
And both too warm and wild!
Thy lightest thoughts and wishes wore
Too passionate a strain ;—
To such how often comes an hour
They never weep again!
Thou wert of those whose very morn
Gives some dark hint of night,
And in thine eye too soon was born
A sad and softened light;
And on thy brow youth set a seal
Which years, upon thy brain,
Confirmed too well-and they who feel
May scarcely weep again!
Yet, once again, within thine eye,
I see the waters start
The fountains cannot all be dry
Within so young a heart!
Our love which clouds have wrapped awhile,
Thirsts for the spirit's rain,
And I shall yet behold thee smile,
Since thou hast wept again!
FLOWER OF MY COLD AND DARKENED YEAR.
FLOWER of my cold and darkened year!
Sweet fount amid my spirit's dearth!
Be near me with the smiles that cheer
The happy home and quiet hearth;
That still 'mid winter and 'mid night,
Like fairies play their sunny part,
To turn the darkness into light,
And make it summer in the heart!
What though my early hopes have flown,
Like Noah's bird that came not back,
And many a faded leaf has strown,
All-all too soon my summer track;
My heart has treasures of its own,
Shrines on which ruin cannot fall,
And cherished there, thy look and tone
Are birds and flowers, and hopes and all!
Oh, blessed time of smiles and tears
Ere smiles or tears are mournful thingsOf hopes, ere hopes are born with fears
And wishes-that have all got wings!
Oh, could I tread again youth's track,
With thee-belovèd as thou art!
But who shall bring the shadow back,
Upon the dial of my heart!
Forward, like rivers to the main,
Time passes on-forever on!-
The moon shall never pause again
Upon the vale of Ajalon!-
The sun comes o'er the eastern hill,
On Gideon-as in days gone by,
But that high voice has long been still
That bade him linger in the sky!
Yet, thou hast been to me a beam,
Pure as that bright and angel form That stood beside the troubled stream, And gathered healing from its storm! Thy love-when all was strife aroundLike music sung my soul to rest,
And thou hast fondly sought-and found
A thousand fountains in my breast!
Oh-for the bloom that thou hast shed,
Along my wasted breast and brow-
May flowers spring up beneath thy tread,
And make thy life-path bright as now!
Still may thy fancy daily fleet,
As here 'mid glad and happy themes, And visions-sweet, as thou art sweetCome gliding to thy nightly dreams!
May mercy shield thy breast and brain,
(Descending like a gentle dew,)
Alike from grief's and pleasure's pain,
-For pleasure has her poisons too!-
Bliss-like the spirit's flaming sword-
Consuming from its very light,
And hopes that-like the prophet's gourd-
Grow up to perish in a night!
May years pass o'er thee like the breeze
That sweeps along a spicy vale,
That bows, but will not break, the trees,
And draws fresh perfume with each gale!
And, when thy wintry day draws in,
Light-precious as thyself-be given,
To cheer thee through this darker scene,
And point thee to thy native heaven!
THE harp is hushed in Kedron's vale,
The river dwindled to a rill,
That haunts it-like an ancient tale-
In dying whispers, still!
The wind, among the sedges, keeps
Some echoes of its broken lyre,
And wakes, at times, with sudden sweeps,
Thoughts of its former fire-
Where Carmel's flowery summits rise,
To point the moral to the skies!
My breast has learned-in other lands-
That moral through its own deep glooms,
Lone as yon lonely city stands
Among her thousand tombs !
Amid its mouldering wrecks and weeds,
While memory-like that river-sings,
Or, like the night-breeze in the reeds,
Plays with its broken strings,
My spirit sits, with folded wing,
A sad-but not unhappy-thing
What if my loves-like yonder waves,
That seek a dead and tideless sea-
Have perished in the place of graves,
That darkly waits for me!
What if no outlet of the earth
Those dull and dreary waters own,
And time can give no second birth
To dreams and wishes gone!
What though my fount of early joy,
Like Kedron's springs, be almost dry!
High o'er them, with its thousand flowers, Its precious crown of scent and bloom,
|