VITAL spark of heavenly flame!
Quit, oh quit this mortal frame!
Trembling, hoping, lingering, flying,
Oh the pain, the bliss of dying!
Cease, fond nature, cease thy strife,
And let me languish into life.
Hark! they whisper; angels say,
Sister spirit, come away.
What is this absorbs me quite,
Steals my senses, shuts my sight,
Drowns my spirit, draws my breath?
Tell me, my soul, can this be death?
The world recedes; it disappears;
Heaven opens on my eyes! my ears
With sounds seraphic ring.
Lend, lend your wings; I mount! I fly!
O grave, where is thy victory ?
Ŏ death, where is thy sting?
FROM this world's joys, and senseless mirth,
O come, my soul, in haste retire;
Assume the grandeur of thy birth,
And to thy native heaven aspire.
Here's nought below deserves delay,
Nought that can bribe thy swift remove;
No solid ground thy hopes to stay,
Nor worthy object of thy love.
'Tis heaven alone can make thee blest,
Can every wish and want supply;
Thy joy, thy crown, thy endless rest,
Are all above the lofty sky.
There dwells the sovereign Lord of all,
The God that all the worlds adore ;
With whom is bliss that cannot pall,
And joys that last for evermore.
ETERNAL God! how frail is man!
Few are the hours, and short the span
Between the cradle and the grave;
Who can prolong his vital breath,
Or from the bold demands of death
Hath skill to fly, or power to save
But let no murmuring heart complain, That therefore man is made in vain, Nor the Creator's grace distrust; For though his servants, day by day, Go to their graves, and turn to clay, A bright reward awaits the just.
Jesus has made thy purpose known,
A new and better life hath shown,
And we the glorious tidings hear;
For ever blessed be the Lord,
That we can read his holy word,
And find a resurrection there,
HAPPY the man whose wishes climb
To mansions in the skies,
Who looks on all the joys of time
With undesiring eyes.
He knows that all these fleeting things
Must yield to sure decay,
And sees, on time's extended wings
How swift they pass away.
To things unseen by mortal eyes,
A beam of sacred light
Directs his view; his prospects rise
All permanent and bright.
His hopes still fixed on joys to come, Those blissful scenes on high, Shall flourish in immortal bloom, When time and nature die.
TO-MORROW, Lord, is thine, Lodgedin thy sovereign hand; And if its sun arise and shine, It shines by thy command.
The present moment flies,
And bears our lives away;
O make thy servants truly wise,
That they may live to-day!
Since on this winged hour
Eternity is hung,
Waken, by thy almighty power,
The aged and the young.
One thing demands our care;
Oh be it still pursued !
Lest, slighted once, the season fair
Should never be renewed.
|