Dim miniature of greatness absolute ! A worm! a god! I tremble at myself, And in myself am lost. At home, a stranger, Thought wanders up and down, surprised, aghast, And wondering at her own. How Reason reels! O what a miracle to man is man; Triumphantly distress'd! what joy! what dread! What can preserve my life, or what destroy ! THE BLEST IN HEAVEN. Giles Fletcher. No sorrow now hangs clouding on their brow, G No fear of death the joy of life devours, No unchaste sleep their precious time deflowers, No loss, no grief, no change wait on their winged hours. But now their naked bodies scorn the cold, And from their eyes joy looks, and laughs at pain; The infant wonders how he came so old, The old man how he came so young again; Still resting, though from sleep they still refrain For things that pass are past, and in this field flow. THE SEA. Barton. BEAUTIFUL, sublime, and glorious, Image of eternity. Sun, and moon, and stars shine o'er thee, See thy surface ebb and flow; Yet attempt not to explore thee In thy soundless depths below. Whether morning's splendours steep thee Earth, her valleys, and her mountains, Mortal man's behest obey; The unfathomable fountains Scoff his search, and scorn his sway. Such art thou-stupendous Ocean! What must thy CREATOR be? THE JUDGMENT. Milman. THE Chariot! the Chariot! its wheels roll in fire, The Glory! the Glory! by millions are pour'd, The hosts of the Angels to wait on their Lord, And the glorified saints, and the martyrs are there, And all who the palm-wreath of victory wear. The Trumpet! the Trumpet! the dead haveall heard: Lo, the depths of the stone-covered charnel are stirr❜d: [the north From the sea, from the land, from the south and The vast generations of man are come forth. The Judgment! the Judgment! the thrones are all set : [met! Where the Lamb, and the white-vested elders are All flesh is at once in the sight of the Lord, Oh Mercy! Oh Mercy! look down from above, Creator! on us, thy sad children, with love! When beneath to their darkness the wicked are driven, May our sanctified souls find a mansion in heaven. THE BIBLE. Sir W. Scott. WITHIN this awful volume lies |