Poems for Reflection

Sometimes in fertile orchards I attend,Where mellow fruits the loaded branches bend;Sometimes I see old Esk in fury roll,Or fish, or walk, or swim the silent pool.

Here did I spend the morning of my days,And learn'd by grace, to walk in wisdom's ways,Its scenes can court my soul's affections yet,Their charms are such they cannot be forgot.

O yes, the cottage once again I see,Which oft has prov'd a safe retreat for me,From wintry tempest, or my neighbour's frown,From piercing frost, or scorching sun at noon:

Its walls my castle, and its roof a guard,As from the cloud the forked lightning glared.Here did I notice first with wond'ring eye,The rainbow's beauty, and the bright blue sky;--

The morning sun, or the pale evening star,The moon's eclipse, or comet's sign of war!Here oft our little tribe have muster'd up,And from each eye have wiped the crystal drop;--

Each other cheer'd when dark misfortune frown'd,As we our little fire have circled round!What each had read, or heard in times before,Each eager open'd out his little store;--

Of fairy stories, stormy seas, or sands,Rocks, woods, or caves, or dens in foreign lands,Enchanted castles, weapons, sceptres, crowns,Of friars, giants, hermits, smiles and frowns!

Thus oft our lonely evenings pass'd away,Till glad we welcom'd in the morning ray;--Ours might have been the cottage of content,But we an absent Father did lament.

Now wide dispers'd whom nature so endear'd,No evening song, no conversation's heard!The garden walls we did so often climb,Are desolated by the hand of time!

Oft on yon sunny bank our feet have been,Or skimm'd the frozen pond upon the green;Where I may wander now, and sigh alone,O'er pleasures past, and never to return!

O Land belov'd! Thou still art dear to me!I still behold a comeliness in thee,Which to express I cannot language find,Nor vent the deep emotions of my mind!

Though transient joys have ta'en their lasting flight,In thee I see a permanent delight,--A secret sympathy I can't express,Which seems to feed the flame of happiness!

But what is best of all, religion thrives,The desert sings, the work of God revives!Cold, frozen hearts have felt the melting flameOf Jesu's love, and spread abroad the same!

Sing on, ye tribes, sweet peace ye may secure,Your wants supplied from field and fountain pure;Live, and enjoy your privilege great,Nor ever more forget the mercy seat!

No midnight revels here your door molest,Nor wild confusion robs you of your rest;Here you in silence may your eyelids close,--On downy pillows find a sweet repose!

Here broad back'd mountains raise their heads immense,And rocky bulwarks rise for your defence,Whose silent caves present sublimer charms,Than the shrill trumpet, or than war's alarms.

O happy man, who safe from winter's frown,Lies anchor'd in a harbour of his own;He whose chief treasure is a humble mind,By truth enlighten'd and by grace refined!

Who suffers not his flock to go astray,But early learns his tribes to sing and pray;Though he but little knows of men and things,Yet having this he needs not envy Kings!

Bend, O ye kings! and at God's altar bow,--Your God hath left a brighter throne for you;And costlier robes than yours He laid aside,And in your stead, He suffer'd, bled, and died!

Be not deceiv'd, ye all must stoop as lowAs a poor beggar, Jesu's love to know:The beggar, or the king, that throne to gain,Must know what's meant by being "born again!"

The number of the faithful, Lord, increase,And fill their habitations with thy peace;That all may know, e'en husband, child, and wife,The benefits of a religious life.

O still ride on, thou mighty matchless King,Till all thy favour feel, and praises sing;--Thy favour, which alone true joy imparts,Is thy law written on thy people's hearts.

By thine omnipotence o'ercome thy foes,And make them dread thy name, and own thy laws;O let not sin for ever them deceive,But spare them breath to pray, repent, and live!

O may my scatter'd tribe thy voice attend,And with thy ransom'd few their voices blend:I long to see them with their names enroll'dAmong thy people, in thine earthly fold.

O God, 'tis thine, I leave the cause with Thee,To give them ears to hear, and eyes to see,And hearts to feel;--apply the sprinkled blood,And purify, and make them sons of God!

The ties of Friendship cling around my heart,While I from much lov'd scenes am forced to part,And leave the beauties of my native home,With weary step, far o'er yon hills to roam.

O may I gain a seat on Zion's hill,Where I no more shall bid my friends farewell;Nor mix with parting tears the morning dew,Nor drop my pen, nor sigh my last adieu!

Thy dying soul still fed with living pain,Shall curse the day on which she first drew breath;Her awful burden she must still sustain,And weep, and wail, and long in vain for death!

Midst hell's deep gloom her portion she must drink,Of double vengeance from Jehovah's ire,And in the burning lake for ever sink,--That dreadful region of tormenting fire!

Alas! the dreadful stupor still remains,Nor hell can fright, nor heav'nly joys allure;In vain thy self-convicted soul complains,Of constant torment, and of thoughts impure!

In vain the heav'nly harpers tune the lyre,Rejoicing saints perform the three-fold part;In vain believers flash devotion's fire,Or drag the holy harrows o'er thy heart!

That heart enclos'd as in a case of steel,Laments its loss, and seeks for rest in vain!Sighs for that impulse which she once did feel,--Oh! shall she never taste those joys again.

I know the Lord is mighty to redeem,Of boundless mercy, and unmeasur'd grace,But sin hath fix'd a mighty gulf between,--Beyond that gulf a Saviour shows his face.

Sometimes thou may'st the keen conviction spurn,Through liquor's magic, or associates gay,But this thy strongest refuge will o'erturn,To think of Death, and the great judgement day.

The dog in the night time now howls discontented, Of its master and mistress but lately bereft;I listen'd and look'd to the place they frequented, Of them not a sigh, nor a whisper is left.

How strong the emotions of friendship were glowing, When towed by the steamer the ocean they braved;Their force was evinced by the tears that were flowing, As the hat, or the hand, or the handkerchief waved.

From the shores of old England we anxiously view'd them, A cargo most precious, and dear to our sight;Far o'er the blue surface affection pursued them, Till the ship was conceal'd by the curtain of night.

They have left us,--their absence wakes mournful reflection, As the fast sailing Arundel bears them away;We can only consign them to heavenly protection, To Him, whom the winds and the waters obey.

He who roves through the wood may quickly discover, Their affection in tokens which there he will see;Where with sorrowful heart each friend or each lover, May sigh o'er their names in the bark of the tree.

Perhaps thy mind dwelt on some future scene,Anticipating more than was allow'd,When pale affliction drew a veil between,And death appointed thee an early shroud!

Methinks I hear thee, while I thus surveyThe dreary place where thy remains are laid,Crying, "Prepare for the great judgment day!That day which shall thy destiny decide!

There's no repenting in the gloomy grave,Nor in that world in which I now exist;Christ died, that he from hell thy soul might save,--Keep his commands, or thou wilt ne'er be blest!"

Here I should faint, reflecting on my theme,And recollecting thy great sins now past,Had not the grace of God, thy passport been,Had not heaven deign'd to smile on thee at last!

Hadst thou not given some proof of penitence,Had I not witness'd oft the bless'd effect,I might have fear'd, through disobedience,That Heaven for ever would thy soul reject.

But Oh, the saving power of grace divine,Which reach'd the dying thief upon the cross,Had visited that troubled soul of thine,Which else had mourn'd its everlasting loss!

Disrob'd of all his terrors, Death drew nigh,--Behind, a band of shining seraphs stood,He pointed toward the opening sky,And dipt his dart in the atoning blood!

His humble victim felt the stingless wound,And to his God resign'd his fleeting breath;He view'd Heav'ns portals through the gloom around,And shouted "Victory!" in the arms of Death!

Go, blooming youth, and share the rich reward,Purchas'd for such as thee with blood divine;Thank God, He ever did thy prayer regard,And caus'd the light of life on thee to shine!

May all the household of thy kindred dear,Hear and regard the caution thou hast given;Repent, and turn to God, with hearts sincere,And have, like thee, the earnest of their Heaven!

May I amidst a world of toil and care,Still bear in mind my Shepherd's care for me,Weep o'er my sin, each day for death prepare,Sigh o'er thy name-stamp'd tool, and think on thee!

Without a murmur at stern winter's frown,Or summer's heat, in country or in town,The stone hath yielded to thy sturdy blow:-- Thy day is gone, Thy task is done,And thou art own'd by thy last master now!

While careless I thy destiny survey,And see thee down to ashes waste away;Thy crackling whisper seems to shew to me, The frailty clear, Of all things here,To earth allied, and man's mortality!

Since first on thee the tender bud appear'd,Or on thy branch the birds the woodlands cheer'd,What strange vicissitudes have roll'd between; Since thou wast nurs'd, With care at first,Or in the forest flourish'd gay and green!

There was a time when high thy top did wave,In mystic triumph o'er the woodman's grave,Whose stroke had ceas'd, worn out by course of years; Where undismay'd The breezes play'd,Whose peaceful shade remembrance only bears!

Ah! thou wilt never, never bud again,Thy ashes lost in field, or flood, or lane;No more the sun will on thy substance shine: It would, at last, I fear, Be well with many here,If life's last spark might be compared with thine!