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CASTILLO'S POEMS. COPYRIGHT EDITION. THE BARD OF THE DALES; OR, POEMS AND MISCELLANEOUS PIECES ; WITH A LIFE OF THE AUTHOR, WRITTEN BY HIMSELF. I ! BY JOHN CASTILLO. • Bud noo his een's gon dim in deeath, Nza mare a pilgrim bere on earth, Hiz soul flits fra her shell beneeath, To realms of day; Whare carping care, an' pain, and deeath, Iz dean away!” STOKESLEY: PUBLISHED BY W. F. PRATT. SOLD BY ALL BOOKSELLEIS. MDCCCLVIII. PREFACE TO THE FIRST EDITION. THE Author of the following Poems prefixes a Pre- face to them, lest he should seem to be wanting in respect to his readers, did he not comply with a custom which is universal. In doing so, however, he would eschew two kinds of Preface, viz: that in which the Author arrogates to himself the merit of having produced a work entirely new, both in subject, and in manner of expression, and on that score claims the plaudits of his friends, and the public; and that in which the author professes to feel himself inadequate to the task of composing a book, but at the pressing solicitations of his friends, with great distrust of his abilities for such a work, he yields to their entreaties, and pleads his inability in mitigation of the critic's wrath. With respect to the former, the writer of the present volume professes not to offer to his readers any thing new, either as to matter, or to language; and as to the latter, the following pieces were most of them composed several years ago, at distant intervals of time, and were frequently perused by his friends long before he had thoughts of publishing them :--the character of his poetry is, therefore, pretty well known to those who are likely to become purchasers of his book; and it would be VI PRETACE. but a bungling apology did he attempt to shelter its defects under the plea of inability for his task. It will be unnecessary to say much of the subjects sung of in the following Poems. Though they are various, the author hopes they will all be found to contain a moral, which, if acted upon in common life, would direct the conduct to a beneficial end. Many of them are founded on facts which occurred in the writer's neighbourhood, and which he has endeavoured to turn to a useful purpose. Others are of an experimental cast, and are the breathings of the Poet's heart when inflamed by Love Divine! It has been his constant aim to exhibit the workings of grace in the heart, its effects on the life, and the glorious futurity to which it conducts its possessor. For this purpose, he has seized on a variety of incidents known to many of his friends, which have furnished him with matter on which to graft a spiritual thought. Life in its spring tide, or when ebbing in death ; home with its simple yet hallowed joys; a religious assembly wrapt in devotion and love, a landscape endeared by the associations of youth or of kindred, a dilapidated church, a withering flower, a text of scripture--have supplied him with topics ; --and he trusts that the doctrines which he has in- culcated in connection with them, will always be found to agree with the Word of God. Of the “ Dialect” in which some of the pieces are composed, the author deems it necessary to say a few words. It is well known that every county in England has its peculiarities of expression and pro. nunciation. These peculiarities, though often unin- telligible to persons brought up at a distance, are yet the native language of the common inhabitants ; and there is, in their estimation, a point and power in them, which are not to be found in more polished periods. The author has availed himself of the dia- PREFACE. VII lect of his native district to convey to a particular class of persons some important truths, which may, perhaps, be more welcomely received because clad in that garb. There may, indeed, appear to delicate ears, a rudeness approaching to barbarism, in the dialect which he has employed; but what is wanting in polish, will, in the estimation of those for whom he writes, be more than compensated by force and vigour. Truth is truth-however humble the ha- biliments in which it is dressed : nor does it come with less power to the heart because conveyed in language with which those for whom it was intended are familiar. Indeed, there is in that very familiarity something which arrests the attention and affects the heart. Of the correctness of this view, the author has many times seen proof, in the interest with which some of the pieces in the dialect have been listened to, by persons whose education being limited, they could not, perhaps, have appreciated the beauties of polished verse, but were at once arrested and delight- ed when the artless tale was narrated in their mother tongue. To make this part of the work as complete as possible, great care has been used to render the or- thography correct: published specimens of the Dialect have been consulted, as well as living authorities, and no pains have been spared that could contribute to make it complete both to the eye and to the ear. A difference of orthography may occasionally appear, caused by the necessity of making a rhyme ;-excepting a few rare instances of this kind, a standard has been adopted which has not been departed from. The author prays that the blessing of God may accompany his work ! PREFACE TO THIS EDITION. A PORTION of the following pieces were published by the Author some years ago, and received the most flattering notice from persons of taste and judgment. The interest taken in the Author's Poetical effusions, by all classes, clearly indicated the good taste and generous feelings of the inhabitants of the district in The woods, the valleys, the brooks, the romantic bridges, and the lovely scenery of his native dales, are the principal sources from which he draws the faithful and vivid pictures of some of his most en- dearing effusions. A few humorous pieces are inserted, which have never been printed, but are well known and sung by the young folks in the Dales. They are added to shew the Author's style of writing previous to his becoming religious. CONTENTS. : There is so : : : : : : : : : : : : SFEE : : : Page, Preface to the First Edition, Preface to the Present Edition, Life of the Author, . . . The Broad and Narrow Way, Fryup's Lamentation, Tea among the Rocks, . .. Awd Isaac, Part First, ... - Part Second, - His dying Advice, The Music Band, .. Dialogue on a Steeple Chase, On a Meeting of Revivalists, Autumnal Reflections, .. The Man of the World, .. The Rescued Lamb, ... .. Reflections on Absent Friends, 100 A Farewell, .. .. 103 The Village Church in Ruins, .. 104 Hints to Preachers, . .. .. 106 She wept, but we knew not the cause of her grief, 108 Lines in Remembrance of a Gentleman who was found shot in his field in Commondale, .. .]ll Address to the Mob in a Revival, oo oo oo 1 1 2 : : : : : : : Spring,. , : : : : CONTENTS. Page 11+ 117 118 : : : : : : : : : : 133 135 : 14] o C facer If we of co ci fand pemand de : : : : : : : : : : : : : 143 146 147 | 48 151 153 The Wedding, .. .. .. .. The Drowned Asses' Colt, .. .. Merry Christinas as kept in England, Changes and Fixtures, To the Memory of .. .. The Race Course in Ruins, . .. The Martyrs, .. Hope and Fear as Exercising the Believer, On Friendship, .. .. .. ... Joseph's Elegy, .. .. .. .. .. To a Fox taken in a Trap, .. .. Sheep Marking at Westerdale, .. .. The Leisure Hour-Danby Church Yard, .. The Devil's Ten Commandments, .. .. On the removal of the Old Cam Brigg, The Glazedale New Bridge, .. .. Intemperance, : .. .. .. The Broken Guide Post, .. .. A Call to the Careless, ... An Elegy on the Death of a Beloved Chil Wisdom, .. .. Bob and Bill's alarm, The Open Fountain Úndefiled, The Rose of Sharon, .. .. T'he Mistake, .. .. .. The Hint, .. .. .. .. .. Midges, or Gnats, .. A Cottage Elegy, on the death of an Infant Signs of the Times, . .. .. Old Sam, .. A Visit to Farndale, . . . On visiting Fryup during a great Revival, , Poetical Reflections, .. Thornton, o 154 1610 102 165 168 172 176 : : : A : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : ? 00 .. 183 186 187 191 193 : 195 : : : : Thoughts’on Good Friday. “.." 200 203 ('aution from Limber Hill, .. To a Squirrel in a Cage, 2018 210 : : : : : : : : : To a Withered Flower, .. .. .. Lines in Memory of the Rev. D Duck, The Lucky Dreeam, 212 OT CONTENTS. X1 Page. 217 : : 219 : : 222 226 : : 228 235 : : 239 : : .. 240 242 244 245 247 : : : : 248 : : : : 259 : There is a God, The Bees, . . " On the death of Jane Wood, of Fr Jane Wood's Farewell, .. The Stone, Sabbath Morning Musings, .. To a Bird singing in Winter, The Play, .. Lines to an afflicted Female, England for novelty,. .. C'razey Jemmey, .. .. .. Portion of the Just, .. .. On the Death of John Morley, .. Friendly Fraud; or Lent Money Lost, Remote Christian, A strange Effusion; or Wesleyanism at Ode to Britain, .. .. .. .. Lodger in Liverpool, .. .." A Call to Arms, .. Sandy and Morgan; or Scotland and Wa Solitary Reflections, .. .. .. Country Blunder, .. .. .. Two Hours Task,.. .. .. On leaving Fryup in search of Work, .. To the Rising Sun on a Frosty Morning, To a Horse dying alone, .. .. Village Preaching, .. .. .. Rule of Contrary, Reflections on a Backslider, .. ('ountry Lovefeast, .. On the building of Glazedale Bridge, Part 1, - Part 2, Broken Seal, Truth Triumphant, .. .. .. Edom, .. .. .. .. .. Miser's Away, Who Hath Believed Our Report ? 261 : : : : : : : : : : : : : 295 : 301 302 : 304 : : 307 309 311 : : ? Our p... XII CONTENTS. ace, .. 313 20 338 Page. Lealholm Bridge; a Soliloquy after absence, Me and You, .. .. .. .. .. 316 Stonegate Gill, .. 317 A Dialogue between Rosedale Bob and Hartoft John, 319 Last Job of an Old Tramp, 324 326 Musings during Affliction, .. 329 To the Moor Birds in a Storm, .. African Christian's Experience, Petch's Elegy, Reflections on Petch's Tomb, .. Thunder Storm, .. Servant's address to his Master, 342 Love Letter, .. 344 On finding some Deistical Books, Happy Choice,... . .. A Solemu Thought, .. Inscription in Pickering Wesleyan Cha Sunday Spree. .. .. .. .. 351 353 Poor Patch, .. 355 Rosedale Festival-Foul Side, Fair Side, 358 341 ကကံ ကံ ကံ ကံ က် က် က်က်က် က 49 356 A FEW LINKS IN THE CHAIN OF THE LIFE OF JOHN CASTILLO. mmmmmmmmmm WRITTEN AT THE REQUEST OF A FRIEND. As far as I can learn I was born at a place called Rath- farnum, in Ireland, three miles from the city of Dublin, about the year 1792, of poor but honest parents : bap- tized, according to my father's request, a Roman Catholic; arrived, (after suffering shipwreck at the Isle of Man,) in England, about the second or third year of my age, and was brought up at a small village called Lealbolme Bridge, in the parish of Danby, on the sweet and healthy banks of the river Esk, which emptieth itself into the German Ocean at the well known port of Whitby, in the North Riding of Yorkshire, where I spent much of the spring of my life. The first striking occurrence, which I remember, was a dream, which I here venture to insert. The Scriptures baith, “He that noticeth a dream is like unto one that catcheth at a shadow, unless it be from God." I thought I was walking in a fine green field, so beautifully green as I had seldom beheld; being rather of a rising ascent, curiosity led me to the top, which appeared like a stupendous cliff of the sea, so dangerously high that, for fear of falling down, I lay on the verge to look over; 14 LIFE OF THE AUTHOR. and beheld what appeared like an ocean of troubled liquid fire; in which I saw a number of tormented and tormenting beings, most of wlrich were in human shape, rolling about, tossed by those dismal and furious waves, and as soon as some sunk, others rose, full of horror and dismal wailings; and their looks I hope I shall never forget. The tormentors appeared to be like heated iron, on wbom the fire had no visible effect. Those tor- mented seemed to be blistered and scorched most awfully, and swollen with very agony; their cries are yet as fresh on my memory as though it was but yes- terday. One was crying, “0 these torments ! ” and another, “ the flame is hot!” and another, “O this sin.” &c. while the tormentors were pressing them down, one after another, into the burning boiling liquid lava, as soon as they had uttered those dismal wailings, while one after another sunk, and I saw them no more. I was at this time no more than seven or eight years of age. Tearing myself away from this awful scene, I beheld a man at the foot of the hill up which I had come, appearing to crave attention, with a grave coun- tenance, a book in his hand, and wore a loose robe like those of ancient times. After asking me what I had seen, he pointed towards the East, where I thought there appeared a bright light, without giving me any explanation of what I had seen. On turning round again for information, the stranger had disappeared, and left me to reflect on what I had seen, and by so doing I awoke, and behold it was a dream; not an imaginary. dream, but a real dream of the night, as " when deep sleep falleth on the eyes of men » Being only a boy, and thinking that such dreams might be common, al- though to me it appeared uncommon, I kept it to myself; but it left an impression on my mind not easy to remove. I then promised, that should I live to man- hood, those things should be further considered, as I then pleaded for, and delighted in, the games on the green. :- Nothing particular occurred for some time, until the death of my father, by whom I had been led to mass and Roman Catholic places of worship. I was then taken from-school, and turned out into the world; to make my LIFE OF THE AUTHOR. 15 way through it as best I could, at about eleven or twelve years of age. The evil corruptions of the human heart began to shew themselves, and operate on my life and conduct. At length, I went as a servant boy with a gentleman into Lincolnshire, and got almost perfected in the school of vanity. Being much addicted to a lightsome spirit, I became very fond of songs, and got much applause in public company for making folks merry, as the world calls it, I had the advantage over many of my com- panions, for while they were conning over their old songs, I was making new ones on the various occur- rences in the neighbourhood. A man's wife having run away with another man, I put the particulars into a fashionable song, and on the following Saturday evening sung it at the tavern, as the company said, like a nigh- tingale, amidst the most uproarous laughter. But mark what follows. A gentleman from an adjoining room, where a committee was met, attracted with its novelty, came and requested the little Yorkshireman to favour the gentlemen with one of his songs ; and being much puffed up with the invitation, I went to sing for the gentlemen, of which I was not a little proud. They kindly invited me to partake of their cheer, when singing and drinking brandy soon began to affect my head. The public house door opened into the church- yard, amongst the sculls and bones, and mouldering ashes of those who once lived, and walked, and talked, and laughed, and prayed, like me. Leaving, without hesi- tation, my own company, I was, as it were, thrust out to reflect, and while staggering and reeling among the dead, I fell at last across a grave. Strange things pre- sented themselves to my mind as there I lay. I thought if one of those dead bodies were permitted to arise in his skeleton form, and charge me with my folly, lifting a clattering hand of naked bones and shaking them in my face, and with a gloomy torch in the other shew his horrid features with the worms at work, surely such a sight would wake thee from thy deadly slumbers, and deadly indifference, and I almost wished it was the case. Where he or she to accost me thus, thought I, in a hollow ghostly voice, “Before the cock crows thou 16 LIFE OF THE AUTHOR. shalt be a lifeless lump of earth,” would not this alarm thee? And then I thought of Abraham's reply to the rich man. I then imagined I felt so big and bold that I could converse with one from the dead. While those things were passing through my mind, I fancied tho grave on which I lay begun to rise; when I arose, and boastingly called the dead to rise without delay, and bring us some news from the invisible world, which so many wished to know. And there I was, in dark and dismal night, amidst the graves and tombs, fit almost to quarrel with the dead. To such a pitch as this I had arrived so early in life. But soon I heard, or thought I heard, what quickly made me sober ; I soon was over the fields to my home, I cannot tell how; purposing never more to quarrel with the dead, or make or sing songs. From that time I began to think seriously about my soul; singing songs did then appear to me to be among the works of darkness; an insinuating sin which led to drunkenness and all other evils; and which I endeavoured to shun in future. Returning home after two years absence in that county, and after being about nine years in a situation, I began to fix my attention upon some trade, whereby to get my future bread. It being then Martinmas, I engaged for half a year to a farmer, intending the fol- lowing May to bind myself apprentice. About this time I began to think seriously about my soul's salvation. The people I went to live with were opposed to serious- ness, being rigid church people, consequently I got but little encouragement from that quarter, but rather the contrary. A neighbouring farmer took in the Methodist preachers, and they frequently preached at his house. I went at every opportunity, and at last the word reached my heart. One night, after being at the preaching, when the word had come liome, and partly broken my hard and rebellious heart; after wiping the tears off the chair where I had been sit, and knelt at prayer, for fear the people should see and come to me; and after forming many resolutions, I vowed that the next time my heart was so broken, I would yield to the good Spirit which I believed was then at work in my soul. When I arrived home the mistress of the house was LIFE OF THE AUTHOR. waiting my return, and said, “John, thou hast done well to come; we have long been looking for thee; thou must come and sing two ladies a song; they have come on a visit to see us, and say thou can sing well." I was astonished at the request, not having been asked such a thing all the time I was there; and just at the time when I had been so uncommonly sorry for my sins. I pleaded hard to be excused, but all in vain. Having one song rather severe on the females for their pride, fancy dresses, &c. I thought I would sing it to mortify their pride. It was an ill suited medicine for my case, which was that of a “wounded spirit.” But herein I was brought into thraldom, for instead of being provoked, they were gratified with my song, and wanted another. Thus the world would lead us on to ntter ruin, and then laugh at our calamity; still presumptuously calling Almighty God, “Our Father ! " When I got to bed I said to myself, “Now, Judas, can thou pray? No. Dare thou lay down without ? No. What then wilt thou do? What do the ladies care if thou art damned ? Will they not say, like the men to Judas when he took back the pieces of silver, “What is that to us? Where is thy last night's prayers and tears, and resolutions ? Thou poor shaken reed ! dost thou not see thy frailty and folly ?" After some bitter reflections I threw myself on the bed in a kind of stupor, wishing myself anything but a man. Falling into a kind of dozing sleep, I thought I heard the loudest clap of thunder I ever heard in my life; and lightenings of the most awful description were darting from east and west, meeting in fearful clashes over our heads, wliere me and others were standing ; and great balls of fire were rolling in the heavens, breaking one against another, darting and falling down upon us, and scorching and burning all on whom they fell. As far as I could see in the west, there was an arch similar to a rainbow, and under that bow, or arch, it was clearer than day; but all around was black and awful beyond description. The great black clouds seemed almost to touch the hills, hanging heavy; and the thunders such as I never heard, imitating words of fearful magnitude, were rolling along among the clouds. 18 LIFE OF THE AUTHOR. Before I was aware, myself and another young man were caught in something like unto a pulpit, but larger, having no way out but over the top, which appeared to be about six feet high, and at every clap of thunder the . earth shook and opened, and we sunk. I said to the young man, “We are sinking to perdition! dost thou not care ?" He seemed as careless as if he had been in a carpeted room. Then another fearful clap came. During all this time the bow, or arch, in the west drew nearer, and appeared larger, until I imagined hosts of winged beings might be discovered passing to and fro, in the part from whence the clear light streamed forth. On the right and left wing, there was a fire burning up all before it. On looking over the side of our prison, I saw the man with the book, which I had seen in my former dream when I made my vow. He was faithfully warning the world, and its sleepy inhabitants, to cry for mercy before the flames approached, or it would then be everlastingly too late. I felt so perplexed at the conduct of myself and my companion, that I could not pray, and he would not. Another heavy clap of thunder came, and sinking, as I thought, I awoke, glad to find myself on earth-much more in bed-I soon was out and on my knees. From that time, farewell to singing vain songs. The following sabbath I went to the Wesleyan preach. ing; when the minister took for his text, - The great day of his wrath is come, and who shall be able to stand ?" He so far pointed out what I had seen, and so far touched where it was sore, that I could no longer endure, but broke out in agony of soul, and began to cry for mercy; and there and then falling down on my knees, I was soon noticed. Not long after I heard another in the same condition; and on looking round, I was astonished to see it was the young man that was with me in the box! The dear praying brethren were soon around us, and with their prayers and tender admonitions recommended us to “ The Lamb of God which taketh away the sins of the world !” After pleading and agonizing for some time, he that appeared so careless in the dream, got into happy liberty, and LIFE OF THE AUTHOR. 19 me, alas, my blessing was yet to come. While we were pleading with God for mercy, all in tears, a thought struck me that This is not the place, up get ye, let us be going; away, away, to the Roman Catholic priest; if the Methodists catch thee, what will he say? perhaps inflict a curse on thee which nothing can remove." So said, so done; all was over for that night. On the following sabbath morning I arose early, sick and sore, weary and heavy laden, and away I went to the priest. O the ignorance of man while uninstructed in the right method of coming to Christ, who offers us mercy on such easy terms. Arriving early at the priest's gate, I knocked, and was reluctantly invited in. With tearful eye, and heart to pieces broken, I began my mournful tale, but the medicine that he produced afforded me no relief; instead of ease, it tended the more to aggravate my sin-sick soul. Nor could it be properly applied, according to his directions, in less than half a year. The reflection wounded me deeply to think that I had deserted the best and likeliest means for my spiritual recovery, by not yielding when the spirit was striving with me, but that I had gone to a doctor for relief who did not understand my complaint! Herein I looked upon myself as being right served for my fancy, while my young friend could rejoice in the God of his salvation. After asking a few frivolous questions, scarcely al- luding to my complaint, he left me, as I thought rather unfriendly, to gaze on some pictures and images, and more especially a large tree, painted on canvass, repre- senting the Roman Catholic Church with its branches ; the branches representing dissenters of all denomina- tions; with its apples, on which were written the names of every sect; but shewing themselves the root and stem of all! In a short time he came with his books, lo, worth the books--they cost me nearly four years hard toiling after this, sometimes in darkness gloomy as the night, at other times a feeble ray of hope would urge me onwards; but all was seemingly a hard and uncertain fight, as without weapons. Sweet and bitter were together mixed, with but little hope of conquest. I did not meet with that pity and sympathy from the LIFE OF THE AUTHOR. priest which I expected ; although I imagined I could endure any penance he might think proper to inflict, if I only was rid of the sorrow and sensation of guilt which was preying on my vitals. In a case like mine the heart knoweth its own bitter- ness. The priest sifted me narrowly concerning my former life, upbraided me for neglect of my catechisms; which task I set about with a heavy heart. I was not to look for any relief,-or like the prophet Daniel, “Not to ask any petition of God or man,"_but by his direc- tion. But finding things in this book which I neither could nor dared believe, my soul was in continual jeopardy; driven as far back one day as I got forward another. However, I went the next sabbath to repeat the task I had committed to memory with great care. To my surprise I was refused to be heard, but put into a corner like some poor truant school boy! with my poor heart still bleeding under conviction, inpatient to be free. But here was neither pity nor consolation till the appointed time of public confession, as though abso- lution was entirely at their disposal! On urging my plea for present relief, he said, “I must go by rule more than by request!" I was almost ready to cast away all; and like the men of Judah, say “There is no hope." Going to mass, and reading my books of devotion, DOW engaged my chief attention for some time. At this period I was apprentice to a stone mason. At length finding myself rather hungry for a gospel sermon, (as we call them,) after being at mass one Sunday Minister. I thought it could be no more a crime than the vain amusements many of them pursued after they had been there. The Romanists getting to hear where I had been, they fell on me very roughly the following that fine not a triile, if I followed up so doing, That there was more to hear at their chapel than I could obey, without going elsewhere. Finding myself thus treated by the very merciful brethren of our Mother Church, my wrath was kindled, and wo had a stormy debate, LIFE OF THE AUTHOR. 21 From that time I lost my conviction for sin, and my love to them as brethren; and had nearly lost my soul, for I was sore tempted to finish my existence. The woods and solitary parts of the earth were the only places where I could find any consolation. I was as a pelican of the wilderness, a swallow upon the house top, or like the troubled sea that cannot rest. Afterwards one of the Romish priests attacked me on the grounds of Methodism, when he found I had been amongst them; and said that Mr. Wesley himself has asserted in a pamphlet, which he published, that he had been the means of leading hundreds down the channels and that Mr. W. maintained the doctrine of faith alone ; also, by way of reproach, spoke much about sanctified looks; which he believed many of the Methodists had, and that many of them thought that quite sufficient. Such a look they certainly had, but he could not tell how or where they got it, but, he feared, from no good quarter! I now began to attend the ministry of different deno- minations of christians, but chiefly those who most faithfully searched the heart, and harrowed up the soul. For fear I should get hardened past cure, eight or ten miles were only a trifle for me to go to hear a good gospel sermon. Under the Wesleyan ministry I was smitten again, and my heart broken to pieces. On making my request known to the preacher, Mr. Stones, then in the Whitby Circuit, he spoke comfortably to me, advised me to purchase a pocket Bible, and read it with much attention and prayer. I followed his advice, from which I derived great comfort, it being very dif- ferent from that given me by the Romish Priest. On the 5th of April, 1818, he admitted me into class, to which community of christians I have adhered ever since. I believe I once nearly lost my religion, by being roving about in the world in search of work; taking no ticket for more than a year; yet my heart was with that people. During this time I had many temptations, which caused me great bitterness of soul. The world can instantly see a false step, and all our faults, but not LIFE OF THE AUTHOR. our secret prayers and tears for so doing. On this ground, by true repentance, our God forgives, through Christ, what worldly men will neither forgive nor forget. In this we see the excellency of an upright life and conversation. Still those unmerciful men will pray for “ the Lord to forgive them, as they forgive others !" But I am going too fast; let me return. I had met in class with the Wesleyans about one year, when one day as I was alone at work, reflecting on the awful conse- quences of despair, all on a sudden a darkness came over me, and I thought thus, “ The very thing I feared has come upon me;" and, as though a voice spoke within, corresponding with that without, “I am damned for ever!” If this sentence had been written in the heavens by flaming lightening, or uttered in terrible thunder, it could not have filled me with more horror. I dropped my work, and ran into an out-building to try to pray, but I could no more pray than I could remove a mountain. Then to my work again I went; I thought the decree was stronger than that of the Medes and Persians; as that decree was broken, or altered, through Daniel's miraculous deliverance from the Lions, but mine was fixed, unalterably fixed; the day of grace was passed, and I was damned. Miserable days and nights were then my portion. Well, come, thought I, I am worthy of it all; I have so abused light and mercy, and so many faithful warnings, that the remembrance is almost intolerable. The people where I lived were all carnal, which made my way more dark and dreary. The old people said I was going crazy, and the young ones said I was bad in love. Scripture sentences were like earthquakes to my afflicted soul. On opening the Bible I found such passages as, “ He that being often reproved and hardeneth his neck, shall suddenly be de- stroyed, and that without remedy." Those passages struck me forcibly. Then to my work; cast down; I was obliged to work, for I was bound,, though I could neither eat nor sleep. On opening the Bible again, I read," I have called, but ye have refused,” and other similar passages : every sentence seemed to seal niy fate the stronger. In the night, when my work-fellows were sleeping contented LIFE OF THE AUTHOR. 23 and healthy, I was fit to leap out of the window for anguish of soul. If the power of sleep prevailed, I dreamed I was falling into pits, or breaking through into subterraneous passages, amidst dismal darkness, and awful cataracts of fire. One morning I tried the New Testament, when I read, “I know thy works, that thou art neither cold nor hot; I would thou wert cold or hot, &c.” Every passage seemed levelled at me; and I was led to cry out, “He hath set me as a mark, and the archers hit me " I durst not look into the Bible any more, for fear I should go absolutely out of my mind, so I thought I would try another book, as every sentence of scripture seemed to cut a fresh gash in my heart. reading where I opened, I read, “If he be to be saved, he will be saved ; if to be damned, no means can do any good !” This was a finishing stroke. For three days and three nights I supk into awful despair; all hope seemed banished; and fearful reasonings with the powers of darkness almost took away my life. I thought thus, when thirsty, “Bye and by thou wilt be calling out for a drop of cold water where there is none to get, try how thou can bear it now when in the flesh.” If I was hungry, in the like manner; when others were laughing, singing, or making merry, I thought they were rejoicing at my ruin. At last I thought a voice said, now “Lover all, God has forsaken thee; thou art mine and must obey me.” Then said I, “What must I do first?" and I thought something said, “Kill thyself!" And I really had the intention of doing it, and the weapon up, when I thought something said, “Be not rash.” Whatever the reader may think, these voices I thought I heard as distinctly as ever I heard the voice of a mortal. At the very extremity of my grief, when I thought my heart would not hold together, on looking round, I saw two men standing on an eminence at a distance, pressing towards me. I thought it was the meeting night for prayer, but that I must never come there any more. Then neglected opportunities cut me to the bone, and I thought the voices said in angry 24 LIFE OF THE AUTHOR. tuary." I kept all this within my own bosom; Iknet there was no relief, had I made it known. The people about me were truly as ignorant of experimental Religion as of the Botanic Gardens ac Calcutta. On looking again, I saw those men coming towards me in the direction of the chapel, about two miles off. On finding they were Methodists bound for the Meeting, my sorrow got vent, and I began to hope against hope. Before this, my grief was black and beyond tears. Run- ning to meet them, I cried out, “ O lads, tell me, is there mercy? Can mercy reach one so vile as me? O tell me if there be ?" Weak and faint for want of rest and food, (and having to do my share of work every day,) I fainted away. They each seized an arm, and lifting me up, began to quote scripture promises of encourage- mert. While on my way, I unbosomed my soul to these men, and by so doing I found it good. One said good naturedly, " While the lamp of life holds out to bura, The vilest sinner may return.". But is that scripture, said I, if it be, all is well. Having to pass a little plantation I said, panting for deliverance, If the Lord will take my burthen off, I may as well leave it here as take it to the chapel, let us turn in hither and see if he vill.” Falling down a penitent in the little wood, while one of the brethren was pleading with the Almighty, and I was confessing my sin, Jesus took possession of my heart ! sorrow and darkness fled as clouds before the sun! and my joy was as overwhelming as my sorrow had been before, and I went on my way rejoicing. When we reached the chapel they were just singing « Nay, but I yield, I can hold out no more," &c. I thought some one had been there and told them all about it, and was very glad to find myself amongst them, praising God, as I had never done before. This was the beginning of good days to me. This was on Friday night, and on Saturday night I went home to see mother and sisters ; had them all in tears while telling my little S LIFE OF THE AUTHOR. 25 story, full of great importance, and hoped they would all be converted that night, but sin is not so easily con- quered. Taking down the Bible to read a chapter, I was struck with these words, "O God, my heart is fixed; I will sing and give praise with my glory.” Struck with the beauty and sublimity of this passage, so applicable to ny case, and which I thought I had never seen before, I could read no more, shut the book, and went to prayer. In the morning I went to the chapel, which was about three miles off. The preacher gave out this hymn “ Now I have found the ground whereon," &c. I was much blessed under the hymn; but when he gave out the text, “My heart is fixed; O God my heart is fixed: I will sing and give praise," I was in rapture. I broke out before the congregation were dismissed, and confessed openly that Jesus hath power on earth to for- give sins. T'he preacher gave good council, and praised God; so did all true believers who knew the glad sound. Some sinners appeared wonder-struck, and stood like wooden spectators; but the Lord taught some of them the happy lesson afterwards. That day the Society tickets were renewed, and the very mystery I wished to see into was on the ticket : “ For there are three that bear record in heaven; the Father, the Word, and the Spirit, and these three are one " A flash of light filled my soul. I saw the plan of salvation as clear as I do now; the mystery of the divine Trinity as I had never done before; and saw, and felt, and believed without any hesitation that I was “born of the Spirit.” Praise the Lord for ever, O my soul! This was under the ministry of the Rev. George Smith, then in the Whitby Circuit; and at the chapel at Danby End, in the North Riding of Yorkshire, on the 21st of March, 1819. From that time my warfare commenced, and many a battle I have had in different parts of the world; and many a time have I thought that the next engagement I should fall; but hitherto the Lord hath not quite over- whelmed me. The Lord hath been my helper; Praise him for ever! This being the case, and my Roman brethren getting to hear of it, began to shoot their arrows 26 LIFE OF THE AUTHOR. at me in all directions, They supposing I should be preaching next, threatened terrible things, which British laws prevented. Some said, if I see him up, I will drown him, if in my power. Poor things, the Lord help them. Another said if they had me in Spain or Italy I should have my courage tried by fire; speaking great stelling words against me and the cause I had espoused. In my own defence I wrote the following address. One said Wesley was a wicked man; in fact, they en- deavoured to raise up all the objections they could against us as a body. One thing I have omitted, which should have been mentioned. Being born in Ireland, I got into great fame for curing the stings or bites of venomous reptiles, which led me in riper years to try experiments on these crea- tures. I used to catch them in summer, and take them about with me to my work, and amuse or frighten the company I fell into, with their mancuvres At one time I had a very large reptile, which I kept in a little wired box, so that persons might see it without danger. When sporting with the hagworm one evening, and making it appear I could do anything with it, on a sudden it turned up and struck one of its fangs into my finger, which by morning was fearfully swollen: it was a wonder I escaped so long. This was after I got religion, and I looked upon it as a just punishment from the Almighty for my presumption. By medical advice, and aid of Mr. Ripley, of Whitby, it was cured. My Roman brethren said it was owing to my leaving “the True Church ; ” but having cured since, as the people say, decides that question. I thought the best way would be to give them my opinion and reason for apostacy in the follow- ing address. NI AN ADDRESS TO MY ROMAN BRETHREN. WHAT means all this envy among my old friends, With whom I was wont to converse, and shake hands ? With whom to hear mass, the mountains I've crossd ; 'Tis doubtful, alas ! all their friendship is lost, LIFE OF THE AUTHOR. 27 Is there not one, saying " which way is he gone? 'Tis long since we saw him, no more he'll return." Another replies, “ I'm afraid be's grown slack, He's put his hand to the plough, and look'd back. Another then says, “ 'Tis the follies of youth, That have led him aside from the love of the Truth." Another exclaims," he is worthy of death, If he has deserted the Catholic Faith !" Hast thou, oh my soul, not a word for to say, While they do thus censure, and cast thee away? Awake, O my senses, and conscience awake, Speak truth, O my tongue, as tho' life were at stake! Assist me, O Lord, the truth to declare, And what is the character at present I bear ? Oh may I confess thee with joy and delight, May all those thus blinded, be brought to the light! Sirs, when I came to you in hopes of relief, You might have discover'd by visible grief, My sins were a burden, my soul was distrest, And I wanted pardon by what I exprest. My sins at that time, bad you been so kind As let me confess them, were fresh on my mind; I long'd to behold the dear Lamb that was slain, And witness free pardon by faith in his name ! But your kind instruction and council was such, You pointed me out the rules of your Church; To me they seem'd strange, which caus'd me to grieve, As all they contained I could not believe. That pure Salvation is only found here,* As most of your writers do make it appear That all other churches are blind and deceiv'd, Save that of the Romans, I could not believe. But through length of time my case I forgot, My heart it grew hard, and convictions were not; I grew callous and stupid, and careless, and blind, And durst not to any one open iny mind. * In that Church. 28 LIFE OF THE AUTHOR. At length,my old comrades chiding me much, For going and hearing a sermon at Church, I left them unable such treatment to bear, And desolate, wandered for near four year. One day when alone, I was at my employ, Retlecting on torment, and angelic joy, A flash of conviction as quick as a dart, Arrested my conscience, and run through my heart. I thought the good Spirit bad left me indeed, I stagger'd and fell, and for mercy did plead; I cried « Oh Lord save me, or I am undone!" And thought I was dama'd, and my hell was begun ! My days were all terror, my nights were the same; I dreamt I was sivking in sulphureous flame, When sleep or fatigue would have closed mive eyes, My rest was prevented by grief and surprise. One evening while trav'lling to the house of prayer, My soul was fast bound in the chains of despair; I'd a friend on each side, who with Jesus had been, They soon did discover the plight I was in. They seem'd to rejoice when I told them my state, That I then was repenting, and thought it too late : They told me, while life's feeble lamp did burn, 'The vilest of 'sinners yet might returo! It gladden'd my heart to hear there was hope, As I feared I was under the curse of the Pope ; All bathed id tears, I fell to the ground, And there, to my comfort, Salvation I found ! While one of my friends was engaged in prayer, I called for mercy and mercy did bear: Soon as he concluded, I'd power to believe, I did from the Fountain a blessing receive ! The praises of God my lips did employ, My eyes did run over with tears of joy; * Protestante LIFE OF THE AUTHOR. 29 I leapt up quite lightsome, my terrors were gone, Ye sinners, thus weary and burthen'd like me, You all may find salvation wherever you be ; If you be repenting, redemption is near, If the Pope should curse me, and blot out my game, I still have access to the blood of rhe Lamb: He now is my helper, on him I will call, So farewell to you, and the Lord save you all! And now with this people I heartily joio, While life sball endure, their God shall be mine, " My heart is now fix'd, I'll sing and give praise,” Till our triumph is mix'd with loftier lays i All glory to God, whose mercy is free, And to Jesus, who loved us to such a degree ;- And to the good Spirit, co-equal in One, For saving poor siuners, thus lost and undone i A FEW MORE REMARKS. I have read much-and heard much-and felt much- concerning the 'glorious doctrine of Perfect Love; and for many years I have looked upon it as being the privi- lege of all believers at some period of life, and the only vital principle, through Christ, to make us useful and happy; but to bring it to the test, that it was my own privilege ard portion, for which I have had many a struggle. The nen who possessed this, always appeared to me to be the “excellent of the earth,” whether rich or poor, with regard to this life; and their prayers and admonitions are, in general, through Christ, most suc- cessful. In the months of January and February, during the winter of 1837, I caught a severe cold, which led to 30 LIFE OF THE AUTIIOR. influenza, and happening to be among my rcal friends at that time, I had many favours shewn of which I was entirely unworthy. During the time of my affliction I read much, and had access to a library of no small ex- tent, which contained the Life of Mrs. Taft, (formerly Miss Barritt;) also of Samel Hick and Carvogso: I had previously read Bramwell's Life. While reading their experience, and marking the course of their lives, I ardently coveted their spirit, but looked upou this great and inestimable favour of heaven, as a thing far out of my reach. Still I believed, till it was really possessed, we should never be fit for the realms of blessedness : although at the same tinie I scarce dared hope for it, yet all the while my inmost soul longed for such a blessing. I thought it might be attained, and retained, by the preachers and leaders, and men independent of the world, so called; but as for working men, who had the world and wicked men to deal with, even if they could get it, they could not keep it, nor persevere init. Not but the Lord was both able and willing both to give and preserve in its enjoyment, but that it required so much decideduess : and yet. as it is written, without holiness no man shall see the Lord. As my affliction increased, my conviction of the need of this glorious treasure of the soul also in- creased, till I became very restless, so that in the night sleep left me. I began to look upon this as my last affliction, therefore it behoved me to examine well my foundation; and instead of sleeping in the night, I was wandering round the world, in London, Fork, Leeds, Manchester, Liverpool, Hull, Beverley, Lancaster, Pres- ton, Carlisle, Heighington, Darlington, Bishop-Aukland, Stockton, Hartlepool, and in every town, street, shop, yard, chapel, and school, where I had set a foot or lifted the hammer, in search of spiritual fruit, yet all seemed to say, “ Barren Fig Tree." My affliction fell into the throat, which I frequently thought would entirely close up. Still praying, and striving to bear with patience this strange visitation, I felt as if the Almighty had said, “These three, nine, fifteen, nay, eighteen years have I come seeking fruit, and found none; 'Cutit down, why cumbereth it the ground;" and I thonight that the axe LIFE OF THE AUTHOR. 31 myself more faithfully. One night I got crawled to the preaching at the chapel, when the text was, “My son, despise not thou the cor- rection of thy Father." I thought neither the text nor the sermon were for me, but if they were, it was the very thing I wanted. After sermon the preacher called upon me to pray; I tried to pray, but it was all confession and lamentation. In the next pew two young women began to call out for mercy; I was glad to see them so sorry for their sins, for theirs appeared to be a godly sorrow, which I hope ended in sound conversion. That night, on returning from the chapel, I spoke to the preacher, saying, “ Brother, pray for me; I feel strangely beclouded; I sometimes think all is oyer, and I shall make shipwreck after all.” “Be of good cheer," said he, “look up; sanctification is obtained by faith.” I do not know how he could tell so well what was the great anxiety of my soul, but he just hit the nail where it was wanted. That night I went to another friend's house to stay, they were both Methodists, and when I the room, singing- " Yes, Lord, with trembling I confess A gracious soul may fall from grace; And never, never, find it more." And kept repeating it over several times; which I thought affected him very much, That night I had dreadful apprehensions of hell, who I should see there—what they would say on my arrival --how they would upbraid me, and such as me—for saying so much against their gloomy empire while on earth; and yet I had stumbled in after aīl my praying and preaching ;. 80 that I might as well have been on their side on earth, and then I might have expected more mercy in hell ; but as it was, even the common damned would grin at me and shuu my company even in the pity 32 I.IFE OF THE AUTHOR. whero we should see the inhabitants of Sodom and Gomorrah, and all the ancient sinners, weltering in that lake of fiery ruin, under the lash of offended Justice. There we should see, with eyes thrown open in wild despair, all the sinners who lived in the days of com- parative ignorance; all witches and sorcerors ; all the black troop of gambling sinners; all jugglers and drunk- ards; who had died out of Christ; as fresh in that awful den of confusion as the first day they fell into the pit; and that they might upbraid me, and such as me, as being of a deeper dye, and merited a heavier curse, and hotter flame, because they had made no profession. The very infidels, I thought, might be allowed and com- manded by his infernal Majesty to flog the fallen pro- fessors with red hot thongs, such as are used in hell for that purpose, through all that awful den of eternal woe. Nay, language cannot depict what I then thought and felt. I thought that if I had sought and obtained this “perfect love" ten years ago, I might, perhaps, have had some fruit; but, alas, with all my opportunities of hearing great and earnest men, I had made a bad specu- lation. Thus I spent the night; expecting I should not live over the day. My afiliction became more severe, and my convictions so strong and dreadful that I might Bay with David, “The gorrows of death compassed me about, the pains of hell gat hold on me:" “ The arrows of the Lord stuck fast in me, the poison thereof drunk up my spirit.” The next day I left these kind friends, and went to the house of the gentleman who had preached the previ- ous sabhath. He was ploughing; I took hold of the plough while we talked about good and useful men, the cause of God in general, and the prosperity of Zion's kingdom. As we talked, and walked, and ploughed, I thought I got much better, but could not tell how or by what means. I believe that good man was praying for me. A shower coming on, I ran down to the house to avoid the wet; the Bible was laid on the table, and on opening it the following glorious promise was ready, “ Thus saith the Lord, I will sprinkle clean water upon you; from all your filthiness, and from all your idols I LIFE OF THE AUTHOR. 35 will cleanse you," &c. Little did I think that promise was for me; yet so it was. At that moment my heart dissolved within me, and the strings and nerves of misery, one after another begun to crack and give way, and in a few minutes all was dissolved into love; and it ap- peared as easy as taking a piece of bread when it was offered. From that time my affliction abated, and I was better both in body and soul. Thus did this glorious blessing enter into my soul, so night for praising God. In the morning the sun was rising bright and beautiful; to me creation itself seemed as though it was just rising out of a rusty oblivion with a new polish into a more glorious existence. Since that time I have felt nothing but love to God and man; a daily rejoicing in God through Jesus Christ, and a burning zeal for God's glory—you may just call it what you please. I date this from February 21st, 1837. I see an ocean yet before me, of which I have only got a drop. But bless God I can and dare say“ "My life, my blood, I here present, If for thy truth they may be spent; Fulfil thy gracious council, Lord, Thy will be done, thy name adored. Give me thy strengh, O God of power, Then let winds blow, or tempests roar, Thy faithful witness will I be, 'Tis fix'd I can do all ibrough thee." My heart still burning with love to God and man, I made some attempts, in the strength of the Lord, at Satan's kingdom; but found in general, my own coun- try, if I may 80 call it, and my own professed friends, far the worst to deal with ; and often thought of the words of my Lord, “A Prophet is not without honour, except in his own country." Notwithstanding this, á few got their souls blessed. Meeting with John Hud- 34 LIFE OF THE AUTHOR. son in the summer of 1837, he and I had an invitation to Stockton-upon-Tees, but we carried rather too coarso metal for that refined place; yet the Lord was pleased to own our feeble efforts by adding some souls to his fold; also at Yarm. Hudson then took the road, and I to my work again. At Moorsholmė lovefeast, and the following week, eleven professed to get good. At Las- tingham lovefeast six were added. At Farndale Low Mill, six were added, and many more deeply affected. At Robin Hood's Bay lovefeast, James Bell, a leader there, caught the blessed infection while l was speaking, which set him working beyond his strength, and he died the following year, in the full triumph of faith. It was said he killed himself, if such was the case, it was through the indifference of others. The Lord gave us two souls at Thorpe that visit; and several were affect- ed and prayed with hoth at Bay and Peak; and thirteen were added to society at Peak that autumn. Finding the channels at home, (if I have a home,) in some measure blocked up, I went away in the storm of 1838, but not having my name on any plan as a preacher, I occasionally got severe lashes on that account, but endeavoured, as much as possible, to keep out of the pulpits ; by holding prayer meetings, and giving exhor- tations out of the singing pews or from the forms, and the Lord often owned my feeble labours. The blessing of others often fell upon me, and I never was so glad in all my life. I lived in the enjoyment of PERFECT LOVE, which I professed, possessed, and preached. PICKERING CIRCUIT.-Set out for this Circuit early in February, 1838. At Rosedale, where Matthew Poole had been before me, I preached three times, several wept, but none fairly yielded. At the request of the friends at Farndale I preached three times there, but no visible good was effected. Preached five times at Brangdale, great signs of good, but none gave themselves entirely unto the Lord. Preached once at Lastingham, from the pulpit, at the request of Mr. Smith, the leader there. Preached at Hutton-le-Hole in the midst of the storm, the first night one got blessed ; second : night, five; third night, seven; the fourth night brother Kip- · LIFE OF THE AUTHOR. 35 ling preached, and nine were added; twenty six got notes that quarter. Bless the Lord, O my soul, and all that is within me bless his holy name! I feel his bles- sing resting upon me while I am writing ; yes, we have. bread to eat that the world knoweth not of; and glori- ous joys that strangers do not intermeddle with. At Gillimoor I preached four times, and nine professed to first night nothing particular, but there was a very numerous congregation, and great attention was paid; second night, sixteen were added to the fold of Christ; third night, about twenty received good to their souls ; many more were under conviction, and several gót good amongst the Primitives. To this day many speak of that visitation with gratitude ! some who then received good are now local preachers, and other leaders. There was said to be sixty members added to the Society at Kirbymoorside before that fearful breach with John Lumley. I never heard of such a revival since at that place. Mr. Burgess, the Superintendent Minister, said the breach caused by Lumley was not so great as many innagined; but I believe no one ever knew how great; eternity alone must explain it. Offences must come; but there is woe pronounced against those · by whom they come. Paid a visit to Edston, a few professed to get good, but some of them went back to bondage. At Normanby, the first night four professed to get good; second night twenty got blessed, and four professed to get clean hearts ; afterwards their was a controversy arose in the chapel about sanctification, and the revival withered a pious and useful man in a meeting. At Sinnington at brother Moon's appointment; several wept, but would not yield. At Marton, on the third night four professed to get good; but the brethren “made light of it," but why God only knows. Tried them at Barugh, but no visible good. At Brawby two professed to get good. From thence to Pickering; found them praying and expecting good times. Stopped there about three weeks, about twenty were added ; a gradual work. Preached 36 LIFE OF THE ATT#02, three times at Thornton, and some professed to find peace. At Wilton two found peace the first night; steady members ! yet no more visible that visit. They have had a revival there since; to God be all the glory. We had ten penitents there in 1843 ; seven found peace that night, and the other three shortly after. At Ebber- stone several were affected, but none would yield. At Lockton two got blessed. At Levesham a few were affected, but none would yield for fear of the priest. Went with Mr. Smith, of Normanby, to Kilburn and Carlton; a revival had broken out at Kilburn and the neighbourhood, two Roman Catholics were converted ; they afterwards spoke at Helmsley lovefeast. After Mr. Smith left me I called at Ampleforth, and two got the blessing. At Wass and Helmsley nothing particular. Found them as hard as nails at Nunnington and Hoving- ham. At Norton one received good. Pockley, nothing. At Stonegrave some were affected; but none would yield. Returned home by way of Kirbymoorside, and found the place all in a confusion about Lumley. At Gillinore I found the cause of God very spiritless. At Hutton all alive, and some added. At Rosedale aot awake in the cause of God. I then to work with our chapel at Lealbolme Bridge. JOHN CASTILLO died at Pickering, in Yorkshire, on Wednesday, the 16th of April, 1845, aged 53 years. See inscription on Tombstone, in Pickering Wesleyan Chapel Burial Ground, on last page. CASTILLO'S POEMS. mod THE BROAD AND NARROW WAY. SEE'st thou that massy gate thrown open wide, And hung with fancy flowers on every side? The trumpet sounds, see how the crowds advance, In rich array, with music and the dance ! See yon exalted Lady wave her wand, Who with Religion shakes a friendly hand ! All classes to the banquet she invites, And her's she calls “ the Banquet of Delights." In diamonds deck'd and such bewitching eyes, That, struck with admiration and surprise, All ages rush, and fondly some believe, Such looks as her's, they never can deceive! The multitude to her sweet voice incline, Charm'd with her harp, or drunken with her wine ; To all she cries, “ My door is open still, Come in, come in, and eat and drink your fill !" 38 BROAD) AND NARROW WAY. From Babel-she knows well how to behave, To neither be too wanton or too grave; She knows the passions nicely, where, and when, To suit her magic to the tastes of men. The stripling and the man of hoary hair, And careless daughters, seek admittance there ; Anxious their loyal folly to express, They cram her antechambers to excess. See'st thou that lonely place across the way? With rusty lock, shut up both night and day! Jehovah's house is called a house of prayer, But empty seats, and dusty books are there, The way is broad, nor very strict their laws, Yet not so easy, as some do suppose : With flaming barness, and with foaming steed, The armies rush, with more than chariot speed. Her pleasure grounds encompass field and flood, Exactly to the taste of flesh and blood; Her bowling greens the finest art display, Her pavement's throng'd, as much by night as day. Her garden paintings, like fair Eden smiles, With entertainment on the way for miles; With pleasant walks and cheerful company, And harmless gamęs“If harmless games there be. So soon as one performance disappear, Another cries, “ the biggest wonder's here !!! Then in they rush, where others have been slain, And with new vigour cram the place again. Sometimes their props give way and break their bones, And dash their little ones against the stones ; BROAD AND NARROW WAY. 39 Still on the tribes proceed, from bad to worse, Through anguish, disappointment, and remorse. See'st thou those horrid things upon the wall, Which on the people let their venom fall ? Shook from their horrid beaks, the drops eat in, By them or undiscovered or unseen. Thus the deluded hosts are led along, With new and novel scenery and song; Until the way becomes (such is its fate,) More crooked, barren, dark, and desolate. Them frightful things which crept along the wall, Watch them, until bewilder'd in the way, Then Vulture-like, pounce down upon their prey. Break all their lamps, and put their candles out; Till, on the borders of the great abyss, They see the lightnings gleam, and hear the scorpions hiss. At last, amidst the gloom of Hell's uproar, · They see the pit they could not see before, Open its fiery jaws to take them in, To bear the consequences of their sin. Their frighted eyes flash tokens of despair, They seek, alas! but find no Saviour there; Until the ground gives way, and down they go, To hopeless ruin, and eternal woe. Dost thou not see, art wishful to be wise? Then pray to God to ope thy drowsy eyes ; 40 BROAD AND NARROW WAY. And he his council will to thee impart; Then take this glass and read that Lady's heart. Tho' she be fair, both in speech and skin, Disease and vile corruption lurk within ; Whate'er her promise be to age or youth, She hates all those who love and speak the truth. Howe'er she may comply or condescend, You'll find her more the Pilgrim's foe than friend : She hires men, and keeps them under pay, To bully those who seek the narrow way. In spite of her, and her tumultuous crew, With mountebank manners, there's a few Who mark the fatal consequence of sin, Who find the narrow way, and walk therein. She keeps her bottled wines, and flowing bowls, And bands of music to bewilder souls ; To drive all sober, serious thoughts away, And lead those on to dance, who ought to pray, But spite of her and hell, there is a few, Who have by faith a better land in view, Of more substantial joy, and true delight; But their's is hid, and her's is all in sight. Of different movement to the general mass, Tho' hiss'd and scorn'd as through that crowd they pass ; Leaving her councils and assemblies dark, With grace embolden'd, press toward the mark. > With tearful eyes, and often on their knees, They war with powers and principalities; EROAD AND NARROW WAY. For God hath said he will their foes destroy, And “ those who sow in tears shall reap in joy." See'st thou that gate, with shrnb of evergreen, So narrow that it scarcely can be seen ? 'Tis there Jehovah hears and answers prayer, And contrite sinners find protection there. But few among the crowd that gate can see, For puppet shows and painted scenery ; And fewer still the sacrifice will make, Or leave that path the great assembly take. But though the gate be straight, and entrance hard, They soon begin to find a rich reward :- Kind angels point to where the Saviour lay, Then touch their harps, and whisper "come away.” Through many a forest fair, and flowery mead, From bower to bower their happy subjects lead; The glorious mystery of the Cross explain. The way expands the further they proceed, Their Guardians bid them to their steps take heed, For round their path the sweetest odours rise, And flower beds, such as bloom'd in Paradise. They have their strong temptations after all, Where others fell, they fall, yet rise again, And weeping, sing " the Lamb for sinners slain !" The trees around a glorious aspect wear, And happy tokens whisper in the ear; Birds of celestial notes and golden wing, Float on the air, and on the branches sing, 2 C FRYUF'S LAMENTATION. Their garments whiten as they pass along, Redeeming mercy still their theme and song; Until the rivers all along the way, Stream with the light of everlasting day. At length, the Mount of God appears in sight, And fringe their garments round with lustre bright; Fill their old hats, reflect the glorious rays, And glitter with the splendour of the place. Until the River's bank they gain at last, As calm and clear as when John Bunyan pass'd; Where safe conducted o'er, they enter in Those realms of light, and “ bid farewell to sin.” Bewilder'd Vainhope wears a ghastly look, He gets less trade since Bunyan wrote his book ; Which trade we hope Almighty God will check, Till both him and his boat becomes a wreck! Yes, Antichrist himself is doom'd to die, For God himself the Church will purify; Those Moons shall be eclipsed by His Son, And Angels sing “ The grand Millennium Year begun !" FRYUP'S LAMENTATION ON THE DEATH OF ROBERT VENIS, WHO WAS FIFTY NINE YEARS A WESLEYAN. COME, lovely meditation dear! I long with thee to rove, To leave this noise, and wander far, Among the scenes I love. FRYUP'S LAMENTATION. 43 And mine instructer be, Through woods, o'er moors and mountains, To walk and talk with me! Till seated on some eminence, With pleasure I survey The golden dye, the closing eye, Of the departing day. The silent hours of evening Now usher on apace, Yon silent moon begins to shine, With brightness in her face ! The dews distil, the night-birds sing, The air is calm and clear, Methinks I hear the sound of grief To whisper in my ear. And as I listen to that voice, It seems to speak to me, A question now the silence breaks, 65 What can the matter be ?" While round I gaze with wond'ring eyes, The valley to explore, Methinks in sighs yon grove replies, “R. Venis is no more !" Yes, Fryup, we have cause to fear, Hath lost her heart's delight, The fairest flower in all her bower Is vanished from her sight. Yet weep no more, thou lovely vale, Grieve not, nor yet complain! 44 FRYUP'S LAMENTATION. Break out and sing, for this thy loss Is his eternal gain! Great cause had we to bless that time, When he to York was led ; Great cause have we to bless that day,* The stranger shook his head. Had York's great Duke invited him His dainties for to share; Compared with what he then received, It was but scanty fare. How oft these unfrequented tracks, His lonely feet have trod, To get his spirit's strength renew'd, And glorify his God. For Fifty-nine long years, we're told, His royal robes he wore ; And followed Christ through heat and cold, And now he is no more ! On stormy day, or darkest night, He'd o'er the mountain pass; And hum and sing, till home he'd bring His lantern and his Ass. The means of grace were dear to him, As prov'd in ages past; The cause of God lay near his heart, Unto the very last ! * When he was smitten with conviction, and ended in con- version, to the spritual good of the future Inhabitants of Fryup, as he was the first Wesleyan, FRYUP'S LAMENTATION. 4h Then like a shock of corn full ripe, He hung his graceful head, When he, supported by our friends, Was to the Chapel led. He told us that on earth he thought He had not long to dwell, With trembling limbs, and falt'ring voice, He bade us all farewell! Farewell, thou royal Christian ! We mourn when we reflect On such a shining pattern, So worthy of respect. Thy blessed Master's service here, Thou never thought it hard, So row with him in Paradise Thou’rt reaping thy reward ! We think, while we by faith draw near, And raise our feeble eyes, We see him safe with Christ appear, Above the starry skies ! With countenance divinely sweet, And raiment white as snow; He bids us all live near to God, And good examples shew. Fight on, says he, my brethren dear, For Heaven will be your friend, If you stand fast, the conquest soon In victory shall end ! O seek the perfect love of God, Nor rest until you find 16 FRYUP'S LAMENTATION. The healing balm, the cheering word, Fight on! ye royal citizens, Behold the starry crown! Though many have deserted us, Lay not your weapons down! Tho' many have got wounded deep, Give not the combat o'er, There still is balm in Gilead, Which can their health restore ! The serpent lifts his bruised head, And all his powers employ, Gasping, he coils with fiery rage, And covets to destroy! His agents fill'd with envy, strive To pull our colours down; But by and bye, we hope to see His kingdom overthrown! O may we 'quit ourselves like men, Amid this din of war! Oh! arm us Lord, with faith and prayer, And then we need not fear. But in the strength of grace divine, And through redeeming love, We here shall spoil our haughty foes, And reign enthron'd above ! Ye lab'ring men, and starving poor, Who now lament your loss, TEA AMONG THE ROCKS. 47 Hear him though dead, yet speak to you, And recommend the Cross.* The cross, the spear, and fountain, still May efficacious prove, To those who will instruction hear, And yield to matchless love! Ye half persuaded Christians ! what shall we say to you? Read Venis' life and pray to God, that you may live so too: Except you all be born again, in vain your hom-. age rise, For while you in your sins remain, you cannot gain the prize! TEA AMONG THE ROCKS. WHITBY MISSIONARY PARTY IN ARNCLIFE WOOD ON THEIR WAY TO GLAZEDALE. I saw them from a distance, and admir'd When they alighted from the caravan, When they into the winding wood retired And with their clothes and luggage loaded Fant Where roses bloom, and fade from year to year, And Ivy twists around the maple stem, And charms unseen, unheard by human ear Yet sparkles in old natures diadem. * The experience of Salvation by the cross. + The Preacher's mare. 48 TEA AMONG THE ROCKS. Stupendous rocks, with graceful foliage hung Rugged and fierce, peeped from the omuntain brow, And birds and bees among the branches sung Midst flowers of variegated form and hue. The breezes fann'd them, as they pass'd along And distant thoughts of paradise convey'd, Wild caverns mock'd, and listen’d for a song Of praise to him, who their foundations laid. That lovely troop, resembled more or less, As through the wood the company expand, The Tribes of Israel, in the wilderness, While journeying towards the promis’d land. While down among the rugged rocks below Old Esk was roaring like a little sea, Where trees of giant limbs romantic grow Adds awful grandeur to the scenery. From depths profound the rocky bulwarks rise Where crafty reynard hastens with his prize, Where hawks by day, and owlets scream at nights. There, ancient men, of information vast, Strange sounds have heard, and fearful sights have seen, As nightly by the hermit's lodge they past, Who at the tavern's merriment had been ! Old Limber distant, shakes his hoary locks, Where spirey larches shed a passage free, The congregation sat around their Tea ! TEA AMONG THE ROCKS. 149 The other side, old Snowdon Nab appears - When Rainbow splendour does the valley span, Like some old Castle of a thousand years, Which long has mock'd the puny arm of man! So stands the “ Rock of ages,” but more strong Though Earth and Hell their battering rams apply ;- The pilgrims view it as they pass along, And fear no ill, while that blest rock is nigh ! The Youth seem'd both delighted and amazed, While they their Maker's wond'rous works adore, And now it is they wonder as they gaze That they do not more ardently adore ! Such footsteps seldom sounded in that glen ; Old Arncliff seldom saw so proud a day, So worthy of recording with the pen; The trees rejoiced in all their best array ! A Missionary army! all agreed To send the Gospel sunshine over the sea, To those dark spots where slaves are bound and bleed, That they may taste its glorious liberty! May Heaven bless both sower and their seed ! Tho' they at times go weeping on their way, They shall return with Joy upon their head, And bring their sheaves at “that great harvest day." Old Arncliff wears its generations out, And new ones gaze and wonder as they pass At these huge rocks, and trees of massy root, Whose branches whisper soft, "all flesh is grass." 503 AWD ISAAC. PART FIRST. ACCORDING TO THE ORIGINAL. YAH neet az ah went heam fra' wark, A lahtle bit afoor’t 'twaz dark, Quite blyth and cheerful az a lark Ah thought me-sell; And sat mah doon te mak remark, At top o't hill. Fuoks just wer tonning oot ther ky;-- A little plain awd man com by, “ Cum sit yah doon, gud friend," sed I, “An' rist yer legs ;"> He'd been a bit of floor te buy, And twea or three eggs. Ah fand him vara good te stop ;- Hiz staff he set up as a prop; Hiz hoary heead he lifted up, An' thus cumplained: (Sum fragments ov a good like feace, Thare still remained.) *" You see," sed he, “mah deer young frind, Mah travel's ommeast at an end; We age me back begins to bend, An' white's me hair ; Ov this warld's griefs, yoo may depend, Ah've hed me share. ** Old Man, AWD ISAAC. * Hiz teal tho simple, it waz grand, And varra gud te understand, Hiz stick stead up aboon his hand, T'awd fashand way; Hiz cowat an’hat wer wether-tann'd, A duffil gray. " Ah think,” sez ah, w'aht Scriptur sez, Gray hairs are honourable dress, If they be fund in righteousness, By Faith obtained; An'ah think, by what yer leauks express, That prabze you'v gain'd. “ Wi' age it izzen't good te joke, An'tz ommost ower warm te woak Sit doon, an' hev a bit o'toke, On things at’z past; Awd men like yoo, hez seaf beath heeard An' seen a vast.” +" A vast ah hev beath heeard an' seen, An' felt misfortune's arrows keen, Az yoo remark, whaile ah hev been On this life's stage; It iz a varra changin scene, Fra’ youth tiv age. “ Hoo great! and yet hoo feeble'z man, Hiz life at langest’z but a span:"- Hiz history he thus began, We teers te tell; · An' if your eers be owght like maune, 'Twill please ye well. * Young Man. of Old Man. 52 AWD ISAAC. • Lang saihn, ah lost inah wife," sed he, " Which was a heavy cross te me; An' then me son teauk off tit sea, A faihn young man, An' ah nea mare his feace mun see, It's ten te yan. “I happen'd to be off yah day, A kaihnd ov sweetheart, az they say, Com in an' teauk me lass away,* We howsin stuff ;- An' noo, poor thing, sheʼz deead, they say, A lang way off! “It'z noo neen year, an' gaun a ten, Sin ah at bark wood join'd some men, 'Twaz theer ah fell, an' leam'd me-sen, Et spite o' care,-- Waz fouast te give up thare an' then, An' work nea mare. “Bud't neighbours hez been varra good, Or else lang saihn ah'd stuck et mud, An' seea through them an' help of God, Ah gits me breead; Ah huoops they'll be rewarded for't, When ahᵒz loa-laid. 6. Bud seein all mah cumforts gone, Ab diddent know what way te ton, Then ah began te sigh an' mon, Beath neet an' day; Ah bought ah Babble, and began To reead and pray. * A Daughter. 53 " Then az ah red, and az ah pray'd, Ah thought it thunder'd over me heead, An' often ah wer sadly flaid, We dizmal noisez- Sumtahmes e bed ah thought ah heeard Mysterious voices. “ Till a preacher chanc'd to cum this way, Ah’v koaze te iver bless that day, Kahnd Providence led me on that way This man to heear; Ah, like a sheep, had geean astrey, For mony a yeear! “ He sed tha’ love of Christ cumpell'd him, Bud sean az iver ah bebell’d him, Ah thowght at sum kahnd friend had tell’d him, All me hart; For every word, like arrows pointed, Mead it smart. “ Ab thowght, till then, as ah waz reet, But he set mah sin's all in me seet, At last ah fell doon at hiz feet We solid grief; An' thought ah sud a deead afoore Ah'd fund relief. - Ah really thowght, if you'l believe ma. At Hell waz oppen't to receive ma, Sum sed the Lord wad seean relieve ma, He waz me keeper ; Bud all they sed did nought but grieve ma, And cut ma deeper. AWD ISAAC. " Then varra sean 't repuoort waz raize'd, And all round 't village it wer blazed, Awd Isaac he waz gannan kraiz'd An' nought sea seer; Mah cottage then for days an' days Nea soul com neer. Ah dreaded the Almighty's frown, Ah wander'd greetin up and down, Nowther et country nor et town, Nea rist ah fand ; Ma sins, as stars, did me surround, Or heaps o' sand. “ Ah'd thoughts of iverlastin pains, And beein tied e Endless chains, Ma blead, like ice, ran throu me vains We shivverin dread; Nor cud ah sleep,-an'nee'r forgat To eat me breead ! “ At last this good man com agean, For which mah hart wer glad an' fane, Just like a thosty land for rain, Ah sat quite neer him ; Wharle ivery organ ov my sowl, Waz bent to hear him. “Bud sean az ah'd that sarmon heard, A still small voice me sperits cheer'd, And ah that varry neet waz mead A happy man ; Te praize the Lord we all me hart, Ah then began. & SIT D ISAAC. Ć € Ah knew he hed me sing forgeen, Wharle ah had in hiz prisence been, An' that His blood could wesh ma clean, An' white az snaw; An' mack me fit we Him to reighn Wharle here belaw. + Sen then, e all me conflicts here, Ah fleez te Him we faith and an' prayers An' He in massy lends an' eear, Thro hiz deear Son ; An' this ist way we hope an' feear, Ah travels on. “Oft when ab thus draws near te Him, He macks me ees we tears to swim, Then fills me hart quite up tit brim We't love of God; An' when ah gits mare faith in Him, Ah hods ma hod! "Sumtahmes ah've had yon beck to swim, An' money a tahme this hill te clim, We heavy hart and weary lim, An' sweaty brow; Bud all that ah can trist Him in, He helps ma throw. "E all the straits ov life," sez he, “ Hoo ever bare me cubbert be, We brown bread crusts, or wormwood tea, Or even gall, Whereiver ah finds Christ te be, He sweet'ns all. 56 AWD ISAAC. And oft ah'z fuost for te reprove em, To seek tha Lord ah tries te move em, We hart sincere ; Bud t’answers oft at ab gets ov em, Iz quite severe. - Ah’ve oft felt sorry te me-sell, Beath grieved an' sham'd the truth te tell, When ah hey heard our awd kirk bell Ring in te prayer ; Ah'z flade at sum al heart e hell, Upbreaid em thare ! “ They'l sit or lig npon ther dead, And toke aboot all kahnds of trade, An' laff, and lee, quite undismay'd, Till they'd rung in ;- Sike fuolks tit world they'r owther wed, Or neear a kin. « Sum sez ther preest's a stumblin-block, He nivver leeds em on tit rock, Like those at mends a threadbare frock We a new piece; He cares bud little for hiz flock, If he get'st fleece! “ Bud our's, he is a Christian breight, He preaches Christ we all his meight, Fills all believers wiv deleeght, An' therefore ov hiz people's blead, The Truth al cleer him. AWD ISAAC. * Ah've heerd him tell em pat an' plain, At thay mun all be.born again, Or suffer ivverlastin pain, Et warld te cum; Bud if they'l flee te Christ.e tahme, For all thare's room. “ Et pulpit or e conversation, Hez always on fort soul's salvation, We kahnd reproof or conversation, Or councill sweet; An' those at follow hiz persuation, They'l be reet. 66 And yet ah'z flade if't truth waz knoan, There's monney o precious soul e pawn, For that good seed that he hez sown Without effect; Throo sad neglect. “ Thare's sum at sez,-(but thay'r mistean) When they'r baptiz'd they'r born again, Just here they miss't foundation stean, An' builds et sand ; An' they'v nea dread, till’t house iz down But it will stand. “ Ah've seen young men, an' women too, An' men we't hair all off ther broo, Befoore he'z read hiz lessons throo, Z'been hard asleep ;- Whahle others that things better knew Z'been seen te weep! 2 D AYD ISAAC. " They' rock and reggle like a ship, Till some kahnk frinnd giz them a nip, Or wacken'd up we't saxton's whip, Or others coffin* Then, mebby, when thave rub'd ther eez, They'l start a laffin.t “Sum'z lived to three or four scoore, An'z lang tahme heer had rulin power, They've won deep tracks across at moor, We constant gangin; Bud still all’t whahle, for this warld's loore, Ther harts wer langin. “ Thersells thave nivver fairly seen, They'v nivver knoan ther sins forgeen, Tho monney a tahme ther prayers hez been Az loud az clark; For all tha’ve hed twea pair ov een, Thave deed et dark. I " Thare's sum at t'neam o' Christian bears, An'z had that neam for monny years, Atz buried ower head-an'-ears E warldly care ; An' oft at kirk we've koaze te fear Ther market's thare ! " Ah waz at a sartan hoose yah day, An't awd man tiv his sun did say, If all be weel, thou mun away Te muoan tit kirk, And try to git our reets next week Te cum te wark. + Coughing. † Laughing is strange devotio Sad mistake. AWD ISAAC. *«Ey! an' Tommy, hez'e sike a tackin, That couat al spoil for want a mackin, + If 't taylear's thare, thou mun be at him Te cum an' all ; $ That's weel contrahved, an' then yah thrang, Al dea for all ! " Thou needent stop to gang round 't farm, Thou'l be te be thare e reet good tahme, Or mebby, if tha dizzent mahnd Thou'l loss the chance ; There's sumtahmes three or four at him All at yance. " Its ower far te gang a feat, An' if't be warm thou's seer te sweat, The mother, she'l dea nooght bud freats Sea tack awd dragon, And tell him he mun cum next week Te mend ower waggon. " Then if ye chance et course at week, O’t Sunday subject for to speak, You'll find awd memory so weak Its all forgitten; Thus wounded souls at's been hoaf heal'd T'awd sarpent's bitten. " That scull at's moulded green and gray, Tawd saxton dug up 't other day, Knaws varra neer az mitch az thay Ot Sunday sarmon;- Yoo may az weel o't subject toke Te sum awd Jarman. * old woman at the house. + Carnal. § Old man at the house. 00 AWD ISAAC. That poor awd man's noo dead an' gean, It's hard te say what way hez tean, At use te stand besadhde't font stean, To tack fuolks watches ;* Wharle careless lads e't singing pew Waz cuttin natches. " For want of proper cultivation, They shuffle on without salvation, A vast, ah'z flade 's, hez this persuation Beath young an' awd, At te be forgeen they he nea cation, Till deead and kawd ! “ They'l finn'd it oot afoore't be lang, At thave all' t taime been sadly wrang, Ther will's may then be ower strang Te break or bend; And noo they say they'r owr thrang, They can't attend. “ Then e summer tahme they'l leave t'awd nest, And driss up ither varra best, And gallop off alang we't rest, To't fair or reaces ; A vast gits what they nivver kest At sike like pleaces. “There' sum gits thare we wooden legs on, Monney poor awd men we wigs on, Sarves't t’young fuolks te run ther rigs on, A faine example ; Whale doon et dust ther poor awd limbs Sumtahmes they trample ! *Not as a robber, but as a cleaner. AWD ISAAC. - Thare' sum can nouther sit nor lig, About t'elections, they'r seea big, They say they'r Britons rump an' rig, Bud whea can trist'em; When frev a Tory tiv a Whig A glass al twist 'em! - There's sum at's rather shuart a seet, For't seak a twea'r three sov'rans breet, Giz in ther voote and thinks it reet, Fort Roman stranger; Others plasters up it street, The Church in danger!' “ Sea they yan prevent annother, We sike like political bother, Tho't best ov all ca’ant seave his brother Nor ransom him ; That spark at's left they try to smuther We stratagem., “ As for those Methodys, they say, They mack sea varra mitch te dea, There's sum wad dea nought else bud pray An' reed, an' preach, Till they git all mead Methodys Within ther reeach! “ Bud thare waz nean ov this amaze, E neean ov our foorefather's days, Tho' their good deeds and honest prayers And pious reedings, Hez been, nea doot, az good as thayers, We all ther meetings. AHD 194AC'. " * To see them doon a beath ther knees, Et kirk, or field, or onder trees, We broken harts and tearful eez, Waz quite uncommon; An' if at they heant deed et faith- Then what's com'd on em. " To preach them all gean doon te hell, It iz a dreadful teal to tell, An' we mun wiv er kindred dwell ; Sea we like them Will on life's ocean lack wer chances, Sink or swim ! “† They mack sike wark amang't young fuolks, They break up all wer jovial spoorts, They thin wer ranks, and storm wer puoorts, We strange confusion ; There's nought bud we mun crie't all doon A meer delusion ! " Bud huz at seldom hez attended, They deant git huz sea easy mended, An' awd stiff yack's nut easy bended ; Varra true, But those at winnot bend you'l see, Mun break e noo! Sumtabmes when passion lets em in, We words te swearin near a kin, For fear the sad effects of sin, Ther harts sud harden; They try to rub off there an' then We axin pardon. Our forefathers, + Those Methodiste, AWD ISAAC. They trifle on fra yeer te yeer Like watches worn oot or repair, Tho' if thay wad, its varra clear, They mud be mended; Bud they perceave nea danger near, Till life is ended ! so Awd Satan sea pollutes tha mahnd, Thay winnot stoop to't means desihnd, Tilt t hair-spring gets we't main-spring twahnd, Or sea hard curld, They'r fuoorst away te get refahnd Et tother world, “He leads sum on like mountebanks, Az stright as if they ran a planks, An' tells em i' ther jovial pranks He'll nut deceave em ;---- Till on awd Jordan's stormy banks, All cumforts leaves em. + He leads sum on annother way, An' whispers ti' them neet an' day, At they need nouther reed nor pray, They'v dean nought wrang ; Or if they hev, he'll set it reet, Afoore 't be lang! 6 Here's others oft been in 't alarm, Bud Felix like, when 't heart was warm, Sed go, an' at some other tahme Ah'l send for thee; Still they that tahme, they diddent know, Mud ivver see. 6, AWD ISAAC, (D “ They rob thersels ov their awn reet, They really winnot cum ti't leet Lest other sins they git a seet, And sud be seaved, And be of all those pleasures sweet At yance bereaved. - Till deep sunk doon et burning lake, They then begin te fear an' quake, Where vengeance can nea pitty take, Which thare bez sent em; Bud furious fiends e' horrid shape, Mun thare torment em! _ “ They leauk for sum yan te deliver, Bud thare they'l finnd nea cumfort niver, There they may weep and wail for ever :- Tharvests past, T summers ended, refuge fails em,- And they'r lost. " Wharle life danced on her silver springs, They laff'd at Death, and serious things,- Scornd Heaven, Prophets, Priests, and Kings, An' felt nea shame ;- That they deant noo we angels sing, Ther'sells they bleame ! “ Their dreadfull doom andestiny Let huz git all we can to flee, By preaching Christ, where'ere we be, In deed an' word; Till all wer Frinnds ther folly see, And ton te God! AWD ISAAC. 65 CC " Ah'v been et way, noo seaven year, (An' az he spack a briny tear Ran doon each cheek, as chrystal clear, Fra owther ee,-) - Thenk God! ah feel wharle ah sit here, Its weel we me! 5 Bud neet iz cumming on amain, An't leauks az if 't wer boon te rain, Or else me stoory's nut hoaf dean, At ah’ve te tell ; We may be spared, te meet agean, Till then-Farewell !” Tho' he'd thease joys, and sorrows borne, Composure in each feature shone :- Fra day te day, Ah wish'd his kease had been me oan, An' kom away! Ô AWD IS A AC. SECOND PART, WITH HIS DYING ADVICE. Oft hev ah lang'd yon hill te clim, To hev a bit mare pross we him, Whease council like a pleasin dream, Is deear to me; Sen round the warld sike men as him Sea few thare be! Corrupting beauks he did detest, For hiz wer ov the varra best, This meade him wiser then the rest Ot neighburs round; Tho' poor in poss, we sences blest An' judgment sound! Before the silver neet ov age, The precept of the sacred page, Hiz meditation did engage That race te run; Like those who 'spite ov Satan's rage The prahze hed won! AWD ISAAC. 67 Bud noo hiz een's gon dim in deeath, Nea mare a pilgrim here on earth, Hiz soul flits fra her shell beneath, To realms of day; Whare carping care, an' pain, and deeath, Iz dean away!* Without the author's neam or leave, They'v put his stoory through the sieve, Of justice keen; Fra crotchets, cramps, an' semibrieve To sift him cleean, The charge at they ageanst him bring, He harps owr mitch upon yah string, Or triumphs like a little king Ower fashans gay ; He'z ower religious,-that's the thing They mean te say. Yet still Awd Isaak tells his teal, Ower monney a weary hill and deeal, An' sumtahmes into cittys steal, Nur silent he,---- Till infants learn te lisp his theame Across the sea ! Our last but lasting interview, His wonted theame he did renew, Fra which a paraphrase he drew An' thus began, In converse clear and friendship true Like man to man. * On the Author's Tomb Stone at Pickering. 68 AWD ISAAC. “ Ah little thought, az weel thou knoaz, My awd gray cooat we all its floaz, An' stick an' all ; For want ov which the aged proud Seea often fall! “Ah varra leatly gat a hint, They'v put wer stoory into print, An' coppys round the country sent Beath left and reet; Bud if’t wer dean we good intent Good luk gang weet! - For all ah sed wer meant for good, If it wer reetly understood, To some, nea doot, the language wood Seam quite abrupt; We're all alike of flesh and blood And harts corrupt. - Fuolks oft leauk mare at blead and Than the subject they are reedin, An' thus awd prejudice iz feedin In systims narrow; For want of pains te crack the beean They miss the marrow ! “Men still et spite ov every coation, Hanker after high promotion, Like Evan's pills, or Rowland's lotion, Saighn'd be 't king; We're sea inclin'd te self devotion That's the thing! AND ISAAC. 5 66 The nation seems all discontent, We strange debates in parliament, Petitions on petitions sent Ther aid implorin ; An' sum in doongions deep lament Whahle they are snoorin! “ Still ower the land a cloud hangs dull, An' we may thrust and they may pull, We ey's and noo's the papers full Applause an lafter ; An' all the good for poor John Bull Si te cum hereafter ! “ Still let us calmly wait the end, On God, and nut on man, depend, Our nation's wound iz bad to mend Ommost incurable ; His Israel He will still defend Wiv kindness durable ! “ But numbers strangly hev backslidden, And dean those things at wer forbidden, An' caus'd his feace for te be hidden By actions foul; Till scarce a ray of huope is left Te cheer the soul ! “ The council ah wad recommend, Iz all te try ther lives te mend, And persevere unte the end, In word an' deed ; An' those al niver want a Frind Et tahme o need ! AVD ISAAC. “But ah mun cut me stoory shuort, Or it may mack the critick's spuort, Our subject's ov too grave a suort To dwell upon; Afoore ye spread yer next repoort Ah shall be gone. “For sen we met and parted last, Ah find mah strength decreasing fast, Like flowers beneath the nothern blast Yance fresh an' gay; Sea man iz doom'd te droop an' waste An' fade away; “Ah wad befoore ah tack me leave, To all, me dying council give, And if the Truth, they dea believe Or apprehend; That TRUTH, wharle ah'v a day te live, Ah will defend !" 1 HIS DYING ADVICE. WHEN Eden's flowery garden smil'd, Nor Eve the sarpent had beguild, Man stood upriet an undefil'd In mind an' feature, An mutual conversation held We hiz Creator. T Bud when the deadly monster sin, Had gain'd its ugly entrance in, Twaz then our sorrows did begin, And Heaven frown'd, A'nt glittering swoord ov justice gleeam'd On all around. Sin spread distruction wide, an sean, Grim death began his fearful reighn, Satan we lies and malice keen Went to and fro; . The Frail, tho' noble sons of men Te owerthrow. Bud the Almighty sent his aid, Enoch and Abraham obey'd, And Noah, an' Job, an' Daniel pray'd, An Gideon too; And mighty foes thro' mighty faith They did subdue. AWD ISAAC. When ancient Israel's altars blaz'd, An solemn congregations gaz'd, When Holy men their voices rais'd And trumpets soonded ; Then Heathen armies stoud amaz’d An wor confoonded. Then Joshua conker'd in the vale, An good Elijah did prevail, The wicked worshipers of Baal He owerthrew; And show'd te them the living God An' only true. Then wharle the sacrifice waz pure, Destruction com nut nigh ther door, In mount or tent they wer secure By neet or day; While thraving groups o' herds and flocks, Around em lay. They taught and show'd ther children how, Ther Fathers kept the solemn vow, When the Almighty led them throo The desert land; And how those fell that wad nut bow To hiz command ! An seea sud we wer children teach, And in ther ears those lectures preach, Befoore corrupt ideas reeach, Then tender mahnd; To find when they to manhood reach The good disahnd. AWD ISAAC. Yes, tell em when the sarpent stung, How Moses and how Deborah sung, And how the holy Hebrews young Did walk through fire; And try to tune ther infant tongue To David's lyre. Remahnd them of a Saviour's love, Learn them the ways which God approve, To pray an fix ther thoughts above Earth’s fleeting joys; Which at ther best when tried al prove But empty joys! Consult the worthies ov each age, Whose lives are doon et sacred page, Nor rest till all the hart engage Like them in fight; Then we like them oor hostile foes Shall put to flight! To huz they for example stand As guide-posts in a weary land, Or like so monny beacons grand On mountains high; They shew the way Jehovah's plann'd Or danger nigh! Bud men grow noo sea warldly wise, Sea prone to vanity and lies, The best o council they'l dispize Sea queer they live ; They'll scarce a proper question ask Or answer give. AND ISAAC- Mankind in general can spy, The moat that's in annother's eye, And big an buzy az Pawl Pry Te mark it doon; It helps fra silly passers by Te hide ther awn. There's numbers seams o't better soorts- Aroound our chapels still resoort, And of conversion macks a spuoort An sins-forgeen; And at the truly pious shoot Ther arrows keen. S But the Almighty see'z ther ways, An tho' he lengthens oot ther days, And his just wrath he noo delays Its seer to cum ; The stoutest of the human race Mun meet ther doom, When here ther jolly days are spent, If they in tahme dea nut repent, They'l seerly doon to Hell be sent To revel thare; To curse and foam an pay ther rent In black dispair! Fret mut thyself when thou dost see's The wicked in prosperity, To flourish like a green bay tree, Or ceedar tall; They like a leeaf, by firm decree Mun fade and fall! AWD ISAAC. Consider thou what has been said, And of ther threats be nut affraid, Beware lest thou shud be betray'd When they'r demanding; The Lord give thee, and nut upbraid . Sound understanding! The country's all anxiety, To know awd Isaac's pedigree, An sum cry oot its all a lee A meade up thing ; To sike we think it nut worth wharle Wer proofs to bring. For all at wish to know, may read, The sum an substance of his creed, May catch, an saw the little seed We great success; Bud whare he liv'd or whare he deed Its left to guess! And Isaac story's ended. THE MUSIC BAND IS ALL THE GO~BUT IT IS A PLAUSIBLE AND SUCCESSFUL SNARE OF THE DEVIL-LET THOSE WHO CAN, PROVE IT OTHERWISE. A DIALOGUE BETWEEN DICK DOBSON AND DAVID MILLS. DICK.—THE Band! the Band ! come let's away, Throw down your work, how can ye stay, When such a noble host is seen With instruments upon the green :- How splendid when their work is done All streaming in the evening sun ! In mine eye there is nought so grand, As our young healthy Village Band. DAYID.-Your eye is dim, and can't see far, Or in that band you'd see a snare, A snare by crafty Satan set, Till he gets time to spread his net ;- Then he expects a mighty haul, Of thoughtless mortals great and small, Who hear, but do not understand, The magic of the Music Band ! DICK.--One thinks when e're they strike the drum Forget your grief, throw care away And let us joyful close the day :- THE MUSIC BAND), It is not onlymall allow Harmless, but honourable too, A great improvement to our land, Is our respected Village Band ! DAVID.--The harm in general proceeds From that to which the object leads, And bands in general are design'd To lead to wickedness refined, To cherish passions unsubdued Led on by reason unrenew'd; In vain may wisdom lift the hand Against the evils of the Band ! DICK.-Music has in all ages been Encouraged both by King and Queen, And Scripture too in ancient days Speaks very highly in its praise :- By it the walls of Jericho fell, It evil spirits could expell, The hosts of Midian too expand The merits of the Music Band ! DAVID. The wall of Jericho fell, 'tis true, But they were holy men that blew ; The harp which cheer'd the monarch's mind Was one for sacred use designed ; The trump which spoil'd the Midian camps Had broken pitchers too and lamps ;- Besides, they blew at God's command, It was the Lord's, not Gideon's Band ! DICK.---Those who against it raise reports, And some who cannot sing be't notes, And though they make so inuch to do Sing merry tunes at meetings too :- TIIE MUSIC BAND). It makes young men genteel employ, And makes the women jump for joy; Its merits they do'nt understand Who speak against the Music Band ! DAVID.--It makes, and's likely so to do, Its adocates to Idols bow, It helps to keep the reason blind And drive conviction from the mind; But little time it doth afford For prayer, the Bible, and for God! Mark what I say, and understand While it remains a Carnal Band !* Dick. It helps devotion there's no doubt, Both when we're in the church and out; You seem to think a man can't play And at the same time watch and pray ;- Yes, we can pray as well as you, And preach and walk as upright too; And may be, shew as clean a hand Though we support the Music Band ! DAVID.-Mind if our prayer be not sincere We need not think that God will hear, Yes, he may hear, but not approve If we more dear the creature love :- What'ere of shape that creature be, That thing's our God, in its degree, And must deliver from his hand Who has the thunders at command ! DICK.-On hills where ancient Druids sung To cheer the heart of old and young, Stands forth a host of music men Tc rouse the slumbers of the gien :-- * I know of no other, TILE MUSIC BAND. 79 Where warrior's jaring shields have rung And bold invaders ensigns hung, Winds waft harmonious down the strand The Echo of the Music Band ! DAVID.-On Calvary's ancient mountain hung The man whose heart with grief was wrung, Whose soul was with our sorrows rent That we might not in Hell lament:- The man who takes not up his cross, And follows him, must suffer loss ; And if I rightly understand Must shun the Carnal Music Band !* DICK.-All those whose sanction it wo’nt meet, They've all thick heads and clumsy feet, They've neither genius under't wig To sing be't notes, nor dance a gig :-- What crotchets, minums, or sixteens, Or what a semiquaver means, They neither know, nor understand, And so they rail against the Band ! Davin). -My friend I fear is getting rude, It may be best for to conclude, And cease our present argument As both appear on vict'ry bent:- All I've to say is this,- Beware Lest you be taken in the snare, You may have cause to curse the hand That took your name into the Band ! Dick.-Dull melancholly I despise We may be merry still, and wise, * Poor Dick is touched at heart, but see how he drives it off. TiE MUSIC L'AND). No warrior to her voice will yielel But carries music to the field :- Old nature too has formed in me The organ strong for melody, And I'll defend through sea and land The merits of the Music Band ! DAVID.-Should sickness seize you unto death, Or Typhus-fever stop your breath, Before to morrow morning bright You'd see things in another light: Perhaps you'd then in earnest pray For Christ to take your sins away, Or may be, you would lift the hand And call to help, your Music Band ! Drck. Why bid a man thus quake for fear, Shake hands with death, before he's here? Before he bids us cease to live He mostly does some warning give, That we his victims may prepare; To call us sudden is not fair ; Or should we fall beneath his hand Some still would back the Music Band !* DAVID.-- There are of those who vainly say To morrow shall be as to day, And more abundant you will see- - Let's eat and drink, and merry be :" The shafts of death fly thick around, Each church yard with new graves abound, No better than a rope of sand To death-beds is the Music Band. * If we did not. THE MUSIC S BAND. Dick.-Solomon was wise, you'll all agree, And sure as he did, so may we; He ate and drank, was merry too, And gives us licence so to do;- He tells us when our work is done There's nothing better under't sun, Than men with merry heart and hand To tickle up the Music Band ! DAVID.--Yes, Solomon as a star shone bright While God's commands were his delight, But he was taken in the snare, And that his latter days declare ; His music and attendance gay From God did draw his heart away, He lost the ring * from off his hand By mixing with the Heathen Band ! Dick.-There's time for all things, Scripture's say, To gather, or to cast away, To plant, pluck up, to smile, or frown, To build a house, or pull it down ;- To lose, or gain, when there's a chance A time to sing, and a time to dance, Such, if I rightly understand Gives licence to the Music Band ! DAVID.-A portion of that time is lent For wicked sinners to repent, To pray, and search the sacred word, To get new hearts and live to God:- How will they look ? what will they say? Who squander that good time away, When they at his tribunal stand, Whose Law condemns the Music Band ! * Of his espousal. 82 THE MUSIC BAND. DICK.-I see I in the end must yield, But still, I will not quit the field, Or if I do, you'll go and say That I was beat, and run away :-- You shall not say that I have flinched, Till of its sin I am convinced, Some other day, with time in hand, We'll finish out the Music Band ! DAVID.-When death and Judgment's thunders - roll, And conscience harrows up the soul; When Devil's and all wicked men Behold more clear their dismal den When the Judge exclaims, s depart ye curs't," And all the Idols you have nurs't; Too late you then may understand, The magic of your Music Band ! DICK.-I still would give to reason place, Sure that would be an awfull case, I'm not for serious thinking fit, As I percieve no danger yet:- Just now I thought I heard the drum, With her great hollow heavy bum, So I must risk my future fate, And run, or I shall be too late ! DAVID.-" Ephraim is glued to his Idols," shall we let him alone ? DIALOGUE ON A STEEPLE CHASE, AT PICKERING, IN YORKSHIRE, JOE. -- WELL Jim, hoo doo lad? what's the news? Which sahde iz thoo on? Pinks or Blues ? Here's sike a mighty stir it nation, Its worth a lahtle conversation :- Ah want te kno, is't reet or rang? Unless thy nerves be verra strang, Ah hev a paper i' me pocket, A'l lift thee hart oot ov its socket! JIM.--A paper, Jo', what is't aboot? Some monney matter, thare's nea doot! Some Methody or Ranter bother, Or some Teetotal thing or other :- Yan scarce can pass alang a street, S Wad omeast swear at black is white, Te gain annother Proselite. Joe.A money matter tiz of course, Fra quite an opposition sourse, For by the Liverpool Recorder, Tiz' mare ov the succession order ;- Although 'tis said by snug report, That which we noo te nootice bring, Is’t Steeple Chase at Pickering. 84 STEEPLE CEASE. ON JIN.-Why, Joe, thou's nean at warst a fellows, Come sit tha doon a piece an tell us, If thou deant think it a disgrace, Aboot this mighty Steeple Chase : Of how, and when, and whare they run, For honor, monney, or for fun; Thou's just geen me an itching ear, Aboot the thing ah wesh'd to hear. JOE.-Thou seez, upon a sartin day, Ah hennat seen, but heard em say, Great gentlemen hev hosses train'd, Fra lofty pedigree obtain’d, Sea full o' blead, an queerly tought, Te gallop through or ower awght: All muster at a sartin pleace, An this they call tha Steeple Chase :- A purse o' Gold they then present, An word iz roond the country sent, For four mahle, ah think they run, An he that beats, the steaks hez wun,- Sum break ther necks ower mountain edges, Sum gets stuck we jumpin hedges ! Yes, te confirm the truth ah sing, They kill'd a horse at Pickering! Jun.-Why, Joe, thou quite surprizes me, To think at men ov high degree, Shud realy hev nea mare respects For nouther 't men nor't hosse's necks ! S JOE.--A hoss is nought e sike a kease, Bairn, souls is nought at Steeple Chase! They for a trifle swap or sell em, An't parsons hez’ent sence to tell em:- The Steeple Chase is suited quite, Te glut the carnal appetite. ON A STEEPLE CHASE. $5 Those at ther Bahble's love and prayer, Jim.-Mahnd Joe, tha izzent ower severe, An' that thy council be sincere : The Law hcz monny curious links, Man moant speak always az he thinks : Tho' ah me-sell feel shock'd te think, Men sud seea rush on ruin's brink, Mitch mare te be encourag'd in, What must be a presumptuous sin. JOE.-The mare ah see this standard raised, The mare an mare ah stand amazed, Te think, at parsons cannot see't An' tell em plain, it izzent reet: At men sike doctrines shud procleame, And those at bear the Christian neame, In spite of all divine advice, Te sanction sike a sweepin vice! JIM.-Whatever be ther satisfaction, It hez a wonderfull attraction, An macks em freely stir ther shanks, Especially of't higher ranks ;- Fra Scarbro, Malton, York, an Leeds, They come on lofty mounted steeds, Ower dazzeling ommeast te behold, We silver'd whip’s an chaens o’gold :- Ther's bands a music, colours flying, Hams, an legs o' mutton frying, Nimble waiters on the wing, Te see them drink, an' hear them sing :- Ther's gamlin teables, orrange stalls, Spices, nuts, an dancing dolls, All things te suit the carnal taste, May just be feend at Steeple Chase ! ON A STEEPLI CHASE. JOE.-Those men hez getten’t i' ther power, Regardless of the starving pooor, Te gallop ower hedge an' dyke, An dea an saa just az tha like :- They booast ov high ancestory, An mighty steeple pedigree ! If onny wish the cause to know, Its “money macks the mare to go.” JIM.--The thing shud be to them meade knoan, Ther gold an silver's nut ther awn, The cattle they abuse an kill, Belangs the “ Lord ov Zion's hill !” They shud be warn'd in every pleace, To give up sike like wicked ways, Or sheere az thare's a God aboon, They'l pull ther awn distruction doon ! Joe. -They hev been warn’d an hev refus'd, Wharle those good things they hev abus'd, By which abuse, they break God's Law, An that He'll sum day let them knaw:- This macks em breath pernicious breath, An' swagger on the verge of death, Whahle others, rather than control, A' break ther necks an' loss ther soul. JIM.--A man tell’d me by way of crack, Bud kahnd a trimbl'd az he spack, They'd Doctors pleac'd within a shout, To slip necks in, at gat slipt oot! * JOE.--Its awfull boasting this indeed, And sample of beath fruit an' seed ; * Yan o'ther first rate riders sed be carried a louse neck ise hiz pocket, in kease ought happened his own. ON A STEEPLE CHASE. 87 Sike may upbraid the world we sizm, This is next door to Socializm.- Sike booastin they will sum day rue, If we admit tha Bahble true : All those mun pass a fearful change, Befoore the happy hills they range ! The day arrives, the smiling sun, Proclaims the Steeple Chase begun : On eager ears the tumult steals, Of prancing steeds and rumbling wheels.-- It waz a day of winks and nods, Of lofty deeds and lofty words, Az tho' they had for thay'r defence, The thunders of Omnipotence! The fuolks com rollin in by scoores, Fra't neghbouring towns, an of at moors : Like clouds of locusts in they hale, Fra Goathland, Sleights, an Harwood-dale, 'Tis surely some enchanted string, That does sik crowds together bring, Like beez they round the steeple swarm, In it they likely see nea harm! · JIM.—Nea harın! what harm, Joe, can ther be, In seeing sike a rareity ? Of men an bosses highly fed, We priests an squires at ther head; Of gentlemen an ladies gay, As bonny as the flowers of May :-- Here riches, youth, and beauty shine, Array'd in silk and superfine ! JOE.--Ey, of farmer maidens young an fair, We wonder hoo thave tahme to spare, We lads of manners ruff an rude, All mixing in that multitude : ON A STEEPLE CHASE. An poor awd men at searce can bloa, We beard an whiskers like the snoa, Sad sample ov our fallen race, All rolling up to't Steeple Chase. An farmer saryants leave ther pleaugh, Calling't master black an blew, Whea for ther creedit an ther neame, Had council'd them to stay at heame. Ah met em az ah com alang, They wondered why ah waddent gang, We roosey cheeks an showders brooad, Betten wagers up o't rooade:- Ther leauks an words at yance declare, Ther treasure an ther heart is thare, If yah contrary sentance drop, That mouth at yance they try to stop. JIM.--When round the splendid stand they meet, T'wad dea a blind man good to see't Besahds those men's sea fainely drist! The Steeple Chase, -wha whea wad miss't? JOE.—Fra first te last, it is desahnd, For to intoxicate the mahnd; Te lift it as on eagle's wing's, An drahve of thoughts of better things.- The stewards, full of worldly wit, Pronouncing all things wanting fit, When thousands then roll'd up to see, As drawn by Steeple witchery.- Ther's Joiners, Masons, Bricklayers, Carters, Careless of ther future quarters, Leave ther scaffold, rooad, or shop, Nor waits to ho ther aprons up; All e' sike a mighty strather, Fit to tread o' yan annother :- ON A STEEPLE CHASE. 89 Mothers careless of ther son, Calling 't Bairns at weant com on. Fra whence they come, or where they dwell, If you'd a paper, it will tell, You ken the hosses whease they are, By ’t colours 'at ther riders wear. Thus, whether in tha ruoad or no, With whip an spur, away thay go, Ower hedge an dyke, ther's nought can stop 'em, Unless an angry God unprop em. Ats growin, or ats leatly sawn, Thare's nean dare lift a hand, or say, " What hev ya dean," on " wheas te pay.” JIM.--Wharle oaths prophane an lafter loud, By some at yance religion loy'd, Not only sanctioned, bud approv'd ! If every word and sceret thought, Must won day be to judgment brought, O how unlike sike wark as this, Is that which leads te glorious bliss. - JOE.—To see them all sea blyth an' merry, Waz famous pastime for Awd Herry ! If ought te him could be delighting, Wad be to see them drunk an fighting.-- He popt aboot amang the people, At last he popt up on to't steeple, Open'd a pair ov dizmal jaws, Flap'd hiz dark wing, and yawn'd applause : - Like some proud Emperor or Lord, Upon the weather cock he rode, 90 ON A STEEPLE CHASE. Where he might all at once survey, The grand proceedings of that day ! A flag-staff for a whip he seiz'd, And spurr'd the spire he was so pleased To think it should hiz cause defend, And that hiz bait had answer'd t'end ! JIM. Tis not for thee te criticise, On men seea great, seea rich, and wise, Nea doat they aim az weel az thee, Te gang te heaven when they dee.- What tho' ther money be bud lent, Thou knoas that money mun he spent : Besahdes, they hev example too, If ť parson's there, what's that to thou? JOE.—If those shud miss ther passage heam, A careless priesthood they may bleam, Ther guides they are, an't Church is mother, And they weant gang te heer nea other.- The Christian runs a different race, To what they call the Steeple chase : Besahdes, we finnd in holy writ, There's nean comes there bud them at's fit. JIM.-Thou means te prove by argument, Those that come thare mun fost repent, An be through Jesus Christ forgiven, Befoore thay’r in tha ruoad te heaven, Nea carnal pleasure tha mun share, But live a life of faith an prayer : If such alone hev saving grace, Dawn goes at wonce ther Steeple Chase. JOE.-So legions fell fra leet to dark, So Dagon fell before the ark, 91 So God proud Pharoah overthrew, So Sisera, and Goliah too : So fell the Lords in sad surprise, Whose hands had put oot Samsons's eyes, Their princes soon wer ton'd te dust, And soon the Steeple Chasers must! JIM.--Whah, Joe, it caps me fair te ken, Hoo thooase heeigh flying gentlemen, Can fra' ther chasing gang te ť kirk, An'join i’ť blessed Sunday's woark, Singing wi' all ther might an' main, This heaven inspir'd, this holy strain, “Let all thy converse be sincere, Thy conscience as the noon-day clear, For God's all seeing eye surveys Thy secret thoughts, thy works, and ways." JOE.-And so to bring our subject to a close, I only wish for to expose The thing Almighty God doth hate, And wishes all men to forsake: The day's not far that will reveal The truth. and fix the final seal :- Some may, when its too late to rue, Find what they hop'd was false, is true, Consarning everlasting woe! ON A MEETING OF REVIVALISTS NEAR STAITHES. How sweet was the sound from the top of yon mountain, Which wafted its fragrance across the broad sea ! Or stole by the breeze up the vale to the fountain, And pierced the ear with its sweet melody! How much it doth Zion's fair mountains resemble, VVhere Israel sung, and their altars did blaze- Where sucklings and babes in a concert assemble, By which the great King is perfecting his praise. How worthy the theme is of such elevation, Which mightily does the bystanders confound; They sing of the Rock, and the wells of Salvation, While streets long profaned, in chorus resound. From Cowber's bright summit that song is aspiring, Jehovah himself now appears to approve; To fan the dim spark in the cottage expiring, Or melt the fierce flame of distraction to love. Sing on in the spirit, ye tribes of the mountain, Feed on the rich manna that comes from his Word; Of pleasure ere long ye shall drink of the Fountain, And sing without sighs on the mount of the Lord ! 93 AUTUMNAL REFLECTIONS. On our sycamore tree the yellow leaf trembled, Its kindred so rapid were taking their wing, On the roof of the dwelling the Swallows assembled, And sung their adieu to the beauties of Spring! The neighbouring tiles seem'd black with their numbers, So early and cheerful redeeming their time, For 'ere half the Village had woke from their slumbers, They'd taken their flight to a happier clime. The stubbles the swine were so eagerly gleaning, Each half naked forest its lectures did pour; The Stock Dove was down in the valley complaining; The Turf, and the Peat too, were swept off the . moor. The ships had returned from their distant adventure, And were cheerfully discharging the spoils of the Sea; The Squirrel had laid up his store for the winter, And left the bare world to the prodigal-free. Pack'd up in the north, the storm seem'd to linger, The diligent man's seed appointment to suit; The boys to their warm breath applied the cold finger, While striving to gather the last Summer Fruit. 2 F 94 THE MAN OF TIIE WORLD. It was down by old Esk, all alone as I wander'd, Where I had spent many a happier day; Deep musing on treasures and time that were squander'd, On friendships departed, or far, far away! Still happy, thought I, the disconsolate stranger, Tho' doom'd through life's different changes to roam, Who by other's fate strives to shun the same danger, And keeps in possession a treasure at home, The treasure I mean, is more lasting and pure, Than those they export from Peruvian mines; Which helps us life's hardships to meekly endure, And bears up the soul when the fabric declines ! [GRACE.] THE MAN OF THE WORLD. From a boy much indulg'd he grew up to a man, And had liberty almost unbounded ; Nor scarce ever thought of this life's little span, With prospects of plenty surrounded. His steed, like himself, in high spirits he views, As it snuffs at the fresh flowing fountain ; On which oft at daybreak he brushes the dews, And is soon on the top of the mountain. THE MAN OF TIIE WORLD. 95 His cheek round and fat, wear the hue of the rose, He seems quite a stranger to sorrow; And while on the sofa his limbs find repose, He laughs loud, and talks large of to-morrow. 66 To-morrow," says he, “ you must call up the hound's, As soon as the light is appearing ?"- Not thinking that Death in his secret rounds, To his mansion the message was bearing. “ To-morrow," says he, “ we'll unkennel the fox, Or in his old cabin we'll crush him ; And when we have got him away from the rocks. In spite of Old Harry: we'll brush him! And then we will dine on the Lamb or the goose, Which if he had lived, might have fill'd him; Then o'er a full bumper we'll have a carouse, And we'll sing where he fell, and who kill'd him !" But ah! when life's stern disappointment he meets, Like a lion imprison'd he's grieving, That he who expected so much of it's sweets, Is so soon of its bitters receiving ! And with internal pains doth afflict him; Next into his chamber the pale monster creeps, And singles him out for his victim ! Like a leaf in the autumn that is shook from the tree, Soon a train is seen weeping behind him ; A visit I made, his improvements to see, And I look'd, but alas ! could not find him ! 96 THE RESCUED LAMB. ONE fine serene May evening I wander'd up the dale, The Sun and showers the day before had brighten'd up the vale, The trees were spreading out their leaves, the Cuckoo she did sing ; And smaller birds of other kinds did make the vallies sing. In a deep sounding water glen, in hermit-like recess, I heard a little mountain lamb in wailings of distress, It seems the little traveller on mountain side so steep, Had been following its mother, and roll'd into the deep. It was on a narrow island where the little trembler stood, And fate, to use him harder still, had dipt him in the flood; Though grass and flowers around him glowed, all succour was denied, And to escape there was no chance for rocks on either side. His peril too was evident, for sure the floods were nigh, And he long had sought for pity, by the water in his eye; THE RESCUED LAMB. 97 With fearful and with trembling voice he pour'd his wailing forth, Such a case deserved pity, if pity was on earth. That case was sure a rare case, and worthy of record, It was Innocence lamenting, and Innocence restor'd; The mother as she pastured high among the rising furze, Seemed to cast into the deep her eye, and say, that lamb was her's. Then downward I descended the mountain side so steep, And caught the little trembler, and rais'd him from the deep; The mother muttered pleasure when she heard his mournful tale, Whom she suckled on his knees, and for joy he wagged his tail ! We expose ourselves to danger when we wander from our guide, Like the little mountain lamb on the rugged moun- tain side ; In sin's alluring pleasure we may lay us down to sleep, And wake up in the morning 'midst the horrors of the deep.* * If not presented by timely repentance. 98 REFLECTIONS ON ABSENT FRIENDS, GONE TO AMERICA, THE sun had gone down o'er yon lofty mountain, The last golden streamer had left the tall tree; The dwelling below seemed forsaken and gloomy, "Its inmates were tossing upon the wide sea. The rose tree was nodding the lasses had nourish'd, Which oft had supplied them with Sunday's per- fume; The wall-flower in sorrowful modesty flourish’d, And wept o’er the beautiful daisy in bloom ! In the track by the river the green grass is springing ; On whose flowery bank they were oft wont to stray; No more the still grove with sweet echoes is ringing, To the voice of the milk-maid, or children at play. 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. (! REFLECTIONS ON ABSENT FRIENDS. 99 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 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 dis- cover, 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. 100 SPRING. Her notes with believers was lifted on high, The fields look'd forth lovely in garments of green! Earth's surface had just been refresh'd by the rain, The sun threw his splendour on mountain and plain ; On the blades and the branches, the pearly drops hung, And each little planting with melody rung ! 'Twas a morning in April, and all things look'd gay, The lambs they were bouncing in gambol and play, The industrious and healthy were at their employ, Each glen appeared full of extravagant joy. The old river's bank, still its privilege own'd, And that wisdom which mingled the scent and the sound, Where Nature her beauties profusely bestow'd, Where richly untrampled the primroses glow'd! All tribes but the human, indeed, and in truth, Appear'd to resemble the springs of our youth, When real virgin beauty, by woodland and stream, Have charmed our winter's away like a dream! SPRING. 101 Then work was more plenteous, and labourers few, Then lies were less common, and friends were more true ; There was less inclination our pleasures to gall, Our tricks less corrupted, our numbers but small. To launch into debt then was thought a disgrace; Bad words heard but seldom, and cronies were scarce, To muster for sinful pursuits on the plain, The bless'd, the bright Sabbath-day to profane ! Comparing our rambles in mountain or glen, With practices now they were innocent then, There were fewer the villager's peace to annoy, The blossoms to blemish, or fruit to destroy ! The Farmers around to our parents were kind, Because there were fewer to mischief inclined, There were fewer to break the young trees in the wood, Or gather the sticks that were left by the flood. The privileg'd rights and claims of the poor, The wicked and idle destroy or devour, Through their increase of number, and conduct of late, Where the passage was free, there's a lock at the gate! Still nevertheless the old river runs free, The ivy still clings to the ash, or oak tree, The cuckoo again to the groves doth repair, And mingles her first mellow notes in the air. 102 SPRING. The green blades lave cut through the leaves of last year, Which, all dry and withered, must soon disappear; To lift our best thoughts to the region's of bliss, Of beauty and pleasure, more lasting than this ! The birds seemed in haste on the branch or the wing, To teach us a lesson and learn us to sing, As though they'd agreed in the thicket to meet, And rival each other in melody sweet! The hills were all bright, and the rocks had a voice, With the sweetest of notes, and the purest of joys; The earth appeared paradis'd, passing along, Except three women singing a brutaliz'd song. With limbs strong and healthy, in frolicsome play, They thus were caressing the toils of the day, To gather the whittens, or stones off the field, Regardless what kind of a crop it might yield. Each face at a modest reproof seemed to grin, Looked wickedly wanton, and harden'd in sin, Which seemd all at once to extinguish the fire, To stagger my muse, and to bid her retire. 103 A FAREWELL. FROM a land full of friends where he covets to stay Poor tost-about Castillo 's forc'd far away, Into regions beyond, where his lot may be cast, So he leaves this small tribute, which may be his last. How happy is he who has work to abide, With his child on his knee, by his own fireside! Where he's cheer'd with the council and charms of a wife, To lessen or share in the troubles of life. 'Tis but few who the ills of the traveller knows, While to rivers and hills relating his woes; Far away from his friends, and out of employ, With no one to share in his trouble or joy. While he sees some for wickedness highly extoll’d, He is sharing the frowns of a hard hearted world ; Receives for his good deeds a sad recompence, A stranger, a Lodger, and all on expense ! Yet there's one, who if he will his follies control, Will preserve both the health of his body and soul; To the married or single, the husband or wife, RELIGION can sweeten the bitters of life! 104 THE VILLAGE CHURCH IN RUINS ! A DECAYED CHURCH, A FAITHFUL MINISTER, A GOSPEL SERMON, A COLD WIND, A RAINY DAY, AND TEN HEARERS, ALAS! for our mother, whom age hath o’ertaken, Her champions are sleeping beneath the cold sod; She seems both by lover and friend now forsaken, Her total dependence is now on her God ! By tribute to Cæsar her battlements crumble, Her silver-lock'd Elders may weep in despair; Her once lovely fabric's now ready to tumble, While no one arises her breach to repair ! Alas! for that spot where our ancestors bended, In humble devotion, and brotherly love, Where hearty petitions like incense ascended, • And blessings in answer came down from above. Alas! for that spot where our tribes did assemble, In youthful succession, so healthy and gay, Which then did the Temple of Zion resemble, But thorns and briers have now chok'd up the way. The voice of her Elders in prayer seems to falter, Her bells they ring dolefully over her dead, Her priests may lament from the porch to the altar, Her pews are deserted, her virgins are fled. TEL VILLAGE CHURCH IN RUINS. Among her old timbers, the hollow winds whistle, And carve out a track for the frost and the snow ; Her walls while they preach her departing epistle, Are cover'd with gloom, both above and below. Dim through her old windows the daylight is peeping, The damp floor hath driven the hearers away; A drop through the roof seems as if it were weeping, To think how her beauty is gone to decay! Of her milk and her honey she still might have boasted, And offer'd to all in abundance, and free, But her funds by the drones are now nearly exhausted, In craftily clipping the wings of the Bee. Still thanks be to God, here the Gospel is preached, With precept on precept, and line upon line; Still Ten there be left, who have come to be teached, The way of Salvation, in lectures divine 1 The Minister so far the tidings reported, So wisely distinguish'd the bad from the good ;' That those present or absent who die unconverted, That worm-eaten pulpit is clear of their blood ! Are there any who ask for the tent of the shepherd! Saying, “Where shall we ffee the destroyer to shun?" Where shall we assemble where we may be shelter'd, From winter's fierce blast, or the rays of the sun! 106 HINTS TO FREACHERS. In the heart that's sincere may be formed a Temple, Which, if kept in repair will all other's excel, With the truly converted, the sober, and humble, Jehovah himself has promis’d there to dwell! Tho' the roof or the wall time or storms may have shatter'd, Or levell’d till scarcely a vestige remain, Yes; tho' Churches may fall, and the flock may be scatter'd, The sheep will ere long be collected again! HINTS TO PREACHERS. A FARMER who fancied he well understood, How to manage his work, when the season was good, He strew'd on his grain, neither wasteful nor thin, But neglected just then for to larrow it in: His servants were after that business to see, But servants, alas ! were as careless as he ; While them and their borses did slumber and feed, The birds came by hundreds and pick'd up the seed. I tremble for Preachers on 't reckoning day, Who give them their Sermons and send them away; When they see the great Word is dividing between, They should try to get at them, and know what they mean! HINTS TO PREACHERS. 100 Though some with such liberties might be offended, There's others, no doubt, would be highly be- friended; The flesh is so subject to cleave to the dust, There's but few that are fit with that treasure to trust. Or if they'r fatigued through the toil of the day, To give us their sanction will go a long way; To just start our meeting is all we desire, And set us a working, then they may retire. On our feeble efforts and council they'll trample, If Preacher's won't linger and set the example : From gentleman dishes, so rich, and so rare, It's not likely they'll stoop to our humble fare. Dark death's and hard hearers would soon be more rare, If sermons were shorter and mixed up with prayer: For sinners in general, whose claims are compelling, Know what they'r in need of, without so much telling! 108 SHE WEPT, BUT WE KNEW NOT THE CAUSE OF HER GRIEF. SHORT LIVED BEAUTY. She wept, but she told not the cause of her grief, As she wander'd alone to the well; And where she might go for substantial relief, Her friends, they were strictly moral and kind, But their spiritual eye was dim; Yet their goodness but seldom reached, we find, Beyond those that were kind to them. To a neighbouring Church thy had gone for years, To all other means were averse ; Unaccustom’d to the flood of repentant tears In that path to the well she so blythe and gay, Oft by the passers by was seen; As a path to the village along side lay, And a clipp'd thorn hedge between. She was noticed oft, as to woman she grew, While the village she walked alone; Where country breezes so healthy blew, For the charms that around her shone. SILURT LIVED BEAUTY. 109 Her eye was serene as the stars of the night, Her form neither high nor low; Her cheeks with the tints of health shone bright, And her bosom was like the snow. No needless robe her fancy prefers, No rings nor gems adorn ; For those who possess a form like hers, May such needless objects scorn. That form was the image of woman complete, So industrious her design; Where she oft was singing with a voice so sweet, Some part of a theme divine ! S From the back door to young men she often spake, While scouring the dish or can; But her young free heart was not well awake, To the wicked designs of man ! One look'd on her with unhallow'd desire, And a snare for her soul he laid ; Her charms in his bosom had kindled a fire, While he those charms survey'd. To tell her just then he said he had not the power, What the beatings of his heart did mean, But he'd tell her if she'd meet him at a certain hour, At Nancy's across the green. He whisper'd in her ear false flattering words, Which she too fondly believ'd; But he kept conceal'd those dark records, Of the numbers he had deceiv'd. 110 SHIRT LIVED BEAUTY To a neighbouring party she asked to go, Where the youth so genteelly behav'd; Quite unsuspicious of her darling foe, She yielded up the gem he cray'd That time when she knelt by her mother's death bed, She, alas! recollected not, The promises she made, and tears that were shed, At that gay hour were forgot. From that time her lustre began for to fade, Henceforth she is seldom seen; With foot so light, and heart void of care, Tripping lively over the green! She sought for redress but none received, Though many did pity her case; Her harp was broke, her melody ceas’d, And a cloud hung over that place. Five moons had scarce their influence shed, When the cause of her grief was seen ; As slowly she pac'd (but the youth was fled,) To Nancy's across the green. She was missing until late one afternoon, The can was found at the well; Inquiry_ran from town to town, But of seeing her none could tell. In one thousand eight hundred and thirty-three, In the autumn of that year; The inquest was held and verdict will be, Found drown'd in the great river Wear. ***** شدم LINES IN REMEMBRANCE OF A GENTLEMAN WHO WAS FOUND SHOT IN HIS FIELD IN COMMONDALE. THE fatal news, tho' quick, too late arrived, To mend the matter, or to heal the wound; Life's lamp was out, the fatal deed was done, The Spirit then had gained its destin'd place ! So situated, whether high or deep, Beyond the reach of mortals to control, Made wise to know the secrets immortal- Had left its shattered shell to cool and stiffen. The tempest rose to an uncommon height, And furious winds, and constant, nightly howled, As tho' they knew-and wishful to make known Unto the slumbering neighbourhood-his fate Whose clay-cold limbs lay travers'd with the moon. Oh Fate! sad Fate! hadst thou but only left One inch of life, to give us satisfaction ; Just to inform his friends, and check reports;-- But this request, though small, was not allowed. O say, ye powers ! for ye alone can tell, Who on that solemn scene did wait attendant ? O say, what was the cause-accounts so vary,- What was the cause of his untimely exit? Alas! the answer must be hid from mortals. - Oh, was it accidental, or deliberate ?. Was it some careless step, or mental agony? To see his blasted hopes-strange hopes indeed 112 ADDRESS TO THE MOB. O Which tempted him to leave old Danby dale, To wander amidst the solitary field. To mark the barren soil, and stain with blood The worthless bank, unworthy of his feet; From whose bright eye meek friendship beam'd, And from whose lips dropped cheerful salutation Whene'er he met a friend or an acquaintance ! Which while they do, and may lament their loss, It throws a mantled fragrance round his memory. Oh! didst thou start at that dense cloud, Which o'er thy habitation seem'd to linger ;- Perhaps the next, when that was blown away, Hadst thou but waited, might have brought deliverance ! But thou art gone, shadow and substance, To know the secrets of the distant worlds. O if thou hadst but faith in thy Redeemer--but why? If so-nay I must say no more--'tis done ; And thou hast bid this vale of tears adieu, And left thy friends to weep-let foes conjecture ! ADDRESS TO THE MOB IN A REVIVAL. WHAT ail ye! what ail ye! ye friends of awd Herry? Why make us the butt of your envy and scorn? Why not to the ale-house, and drink and be merry, And keep away from us, and let us alone ! Why is it? why is it? ye thus are provoked To see men and women thus weeping for sin ? Or raging with passion, until almost choked, Because to the old serpent you're so near akin ! ADDRESS TO TIŁ MOP, 113 You are grieved ! you are grieved ! to see such Your kingdom is falling-and surely must fall;- Hell moveth its agents to give you instruction To bury you living, and carry the pall ; Come forward ! come forward ! we bid you defiance ! Then blow up your fires, and put on more steam; On the arm of OMNIPOTENCE we have reliance, . Whose sabbaths ye break, and whose name ye blaspheme ! To battle ! to battle ! then call up your legions, 'Tis long since the seed of the woman was born ; His name is a TERROR through all your dark regions, And this is the cause of your envy and scorn! Ye know it! ye know it! there's something among us, Would do you some good, if ye could but obtain ; And ye have a Conscience that makes you uneasy; Because you have heard of THE LAMB THAT WAS SLAIN! 2 G 114 THE WEDDING. S BANDS OF MUSICSINGINGDANCING-AND DRINKING. DAY AFTER THE WEDDING. GONE is the din of yesterday Among the years that's rolld away; Left many an empty aching void; Immortal souls unsatisfied.. Discordant families sit down, To half a breakfast, with a frown; And drinking men who won't refrain, Go grumbling to their work again. Others are reeling in the street, In hopes some cronies there to meet; VVho might have found one shilling more, He had not spent the night before. The drum hath ceased and trumpet loud, Which so bewitch'd the gaping crowd; That slaves forgot their destiny, And limping cripples crawl'd to see! Will Waver lost his Total-wedge, Rush'd inte't crowd and broke his pledge; And while to't rest he whop'd and hollow'd, Great numbers his example follow'd. THE WEDDING. 115 Tee-totallers will not long stand, Who disregard the great command; That they may faithful keep their word, They want the saving Grace of God! The drum and trumpet sounded high, Inviting every passer by, Of merry heart to come that way, And join in their great festive day! While women out of 't streets and lanes, Had rush’d, and left their crying bairns ; Auld folks inside, against ther will, Could hardly keep their crutches still. While such the streets were agitating, The lesser tribes were imitating; With young manucuvres, hips, and shouts, With penny trumpets, sticks, and clouts ! Through such a crowd, with edge so keen, The coffin'd dead could pass unseen; Tho' scarce a passage could be clear'd ; Or scarce the tolling bell be heard ! Gone, is the din of yesterday, And wither'd as the flowers of May, That blush'd around the shepherd's tents, But not so gone that day's events. Think not that those will ’scape the eye, Or scrutiny of the most High! By whom all secrets are descried; All thoughts are known and actions weigh'd! The people seek by mirth and song, Substantial joy from sources wrong ; THE WEDDING. 'Tis well their fate is yet no worse, Than disappointment and remorse! We wonder why such wisdom great, Have not found out the world's a cheat; We wonder how those trades can live, Who promise more than they can give ! The Devil now must do his might, And Bands of Music suits him quite; To lead the people off to drink, And hardly give them time to think. It is the tavern's engine rare, To drive off what they call, “ dull care;" To make their frindships more complete, Or box them out to't open street. Over bumpers full they roar and sing, And helps awd Death to sharp his sting; With women dancing up the stairs, To wicked tunes and wanton airs. When such proceedings after ten,* Disturb the rest of sober men ; No wonder that we daily see, Such symptoms of calamity! Should live in such a cloudy clime; Nor need we ask the reason why, They without consolation die! Gone, is the din of yesterday, Like that balloon they sent away; Gone with trump or bugle's blast, To higher regions to be pass’d. . * At night. 117 THE DROWNED ASSES COLT. Poor little donkey, thy travels are o'er, Thy day's work is done, and thy feet are not sore ! Thou hast gotten away, from those ills that attend, Such a life as thy kindred comrades spend. By thy master's rash hand, thou hast now gotten clear, Of whippings, and kickings, and burdens severe; The gripings of hunger no more thou shalt sbare, When has stacks are little, and commons are bare. How little thou thought, by the edge of the stream, When trotting along by the side of thy dam; Up to the deep waters,thy trouble and ease, Thy pleasures and sorrows, so early would cease! When thou to the brink of destruction wast led : Thy master apparently thought it no sin, To take the advantage and tumble thee in. There, plunging in vain, thou endeavoured to creep Up the edge, but fell back again into the deep; Then patiently sunk, when thy strength it was gone, Nor reproved thy master for what he had done. On the cold river's bank, thou hast taken thy rest, Before the rude bag thy sore back had opprest; All the whips and the cudgels that are under the sun, No more can awake thee, or cause thee to run! it MERRY CHRISTMAS AS KEPT IN ENGLAND. It was Christmas time, the bells they did chime, And the lads had come over the ferry; The ships had returned, and the yule candles burn', And the township was awfully merry. The billiards and cards, caroused up the yards, And the bottle went rouud as a token; The lazy and lame put their hands to the game, That the old customs might not be broken. By leap-year unstall'd, the maidens so call'd, Could scarcely shew prudent behaviour; Their music and wine, put them out of the line ; But you heard not a word of the Saviour. Though husbands and wives, of dissolute lives, Unalter'd, still fed on his bounty ; And harlot and whore had been weeks before Singing of his birth through the country. Their words were all joke, “smooth as oil when they spoke, And the drop of their lips was like honey;" With men as they past, they made the joke last, And then had a spree with the money. MERRY CHRISTMAS. 119 Though they swear black is white, and thieve in the night, The moon in her majesty shining; Yet be it observed, such creatures are served, When the poor and the aged are pining. With hearts full of guile, and music in style, * They laugh at the Methodist see-saw; † To the ball, play, or dance, the armies advance, As the multitude wish it to be so; The clubs of each place, such an uproar did raise, As to put into newspaper record Their separate shines, bands, mótto's, and signs, · It appear'd like an harmonious discord. Such numbers came out as no preacher could route Though the hour had been mention'd precisely ; Though the charmer charm never so wisely! The youth of life's stage, and wither'd old age, Rushed out, and all said they look'd pretty ; While in numbers so strong, they were sweeping along, As the pride and the swell of the city. It is theirs for to boast, and pass round the toast, For they get the great congregation ; By public regard, as a present reward, They found what they sought-Admiration. * The town's Inhabitants. † A slang word for singing Hymns and extempore prayer. 120 MERRY CHRISTMAS. While passing along, by that dignified throng, There was one thing which caught my atten- tion ; The matter expressed, as a sample of the rest, As I heard, I beg leave for to mention. Of their Sermon, procession, and dinner; So without much research, I have got the grand march, Of the Parson, the Saint, and the Sinner. Though from different parts, and though different hearts, Or motives, might bring them together; To church they repair, to show off all fair, With music conducting them thither. The Parson then took his pulpit and book, And held up his Christmas taper ; *. Their cause to sustain, and his Sovereign to gain, He soon read them over his paper. There's different trades, and different grades, And each has their different notion; But compared as we're told with christians of old, It's a comical kind of devotion. With banners and horns, big drum and trombones, As soon as the business subsided; From church they repair to the hounds and the hare, Where they had a grand dinner provided. t of human learning. MERRY CHRISTMAS. 121 By signs of applause, the parson was chose, As being most fit and well able O’er the rest to preside, and their portion divide, He was seated at the head of the table. They were all eye and ear, some sentence to hear, Which to sanctity had some allusion; But no such childish whim was sanction’d by him, It appear'd rather more a delusion. As commander in chief, he slash'd into the beef, And then like an hungry hunter ; Left each by his delf, to say grace for himself, Or else fall to work like a grunter. So with swagger and swell, at the sound of the bell, A sample they got of good living; As the best mode to go to the table and fro, Without either grace or thanksgiving. Moreover than this, as tho' nought were amiss, Each turn'd to his pipe and his portion ; * The parson 'ere long, roared out for a song, But there was one or two, who knew better than bow To Bacchus, or sign their approval; And homeward made speedy removal. While thus we look round, where such numbers are found, To Heaven and Holiness idle, Of what he liked to driuk, A 122 CHANGES AND FIXTURES. Let us not contend, but consider their end, And so to our knees and our Bible. God's mercies adore, and wonder no more, Why so many the gospel do trample; Do hate good advice, and wallow in vice, With such like superior example. The Heathen would stare, if they heard of it there, Of the blessings that we are abusing ;- Yes, a New Zealand chief would be hard of belief, CHANGES AND FIXTURES. How seldom we think, as time whirls us about, How soon this short life will be done ! Tho' the sand in the glass, is so fast running out, Still after our follies we run ;- How oft has the dress Of the party or ball, Been exchang'd for the mourning Hood, cloak, or the shawl! The Wear, and the Ganders keep rolling on still, and the Abbey stands mouldering at top of the hill, CIIANGES AND FIXTURES. 123 Tis thus generations are passing away As the fruit of the field or the tree Does irregular drop, the place is fill'd up And oft strange alterations we see :- How soon the sweet ointment Returns us the cost ! The Tees and the Tyne keep rolling on still, And the Abbey stands mouldering at top of the hill. But those short and those shadowy glories of life, A soul for intelligence born Will see, and will shun, the inglorious strife, Choosing rather to wander alone :-- She the concourse refuses And tries for to sing, The haunts of the muses Or lovers in spring :- The Dee and the Derwent keep rolling on still, And the Abbey stands mouldering at top of the hill. After gaining her wish, as she wanders the grove In her dull recreation she glories, To mark out the track of the serpent and dove, And to bundle up life's little stories : If we could but discern Her voice when she calls There's wisdom to learn From the insect that crawls : - The Shannon and Liffy keep rolling on still, And the Abbey stands mouldering at top of the hill. Being absent awhile, should we visit the place, Of our friends and associates dear, 124 CHANGES AND FIXTURES. While the flowery paths of our childhood we trace, Scarce a vestige remains as it were: What births and what deaths, What marriages too; One would think that the Earth was peopled anew : The mountains and rocks keep their neighbourhood still, And the Abbey stands mouldering at top of the hill. When we view that dear spot where in youth we have met, To each other so kind and true-hearted; The place is there, but the birds they have flit, And some we lov'd dear have departed !- While dullness of trade Has drove many a bright fellow, To seek for a shade O'er the western billow:- The moon and the stars keep their residence still, And the Abbey stands mouldering at top of the hill. For fear that their pilot should lose them; If a contrary wind should just ruffle their sails, Lest old poverty's storm should expose them :-- Being of higher blood and prouder, With hemp, or poison, steel, or powder, They slip off sharp across the river, And some will say they finish'd clever :-- The ocean keeps ebbing and flowing.on still, And the Abbey stands mouldering at top of the hill. The toil-worn out peasant, so sober and gray, Whose life hath been squar'd with decorum ; CHANGES AND FIXTURES. 125 With pleasure he feels himself wasting away, Having Hope lighted up in the store-room:- From the giddy and gay He can bravely depart, Without one to lay His absence to heart : Beneath his old vine his cottage stands still, While the Abbey stands mouldering at top of the hill. So, a man of sound and vigorous mind, Who answers the end he was meant for ; He wishes not here to be always confin'd, Nor yet go before he is sent for : Still the Father, the mother, The daughter, and son, Dies off, and the whole The winter and summer keep rolling on still, And the Abbey stands mouldering at top of the hill. When we view by the light of yon fiery sky, The abbey dissolv'd, and the rivers all dry- When the rocks and the mountains removing we see, Where then is the strong hold to which we may flee? When the sea by strange flames Shall shrink from the shore, And Gabriel proclaims, 56 Time shall be no more:"- The conscience that's guilty with horror shall fill, * Hope, the fruit of saving Faith in Jesus, springing out of a heart regenerate by grace. 126 TO THE MEMORY OF - If I had been as bold as he, I might have wrote down Dr. Slee. HERE lies a man, who long has tried, With mixtures, pills, and powders, To prolong breath and ward of death- Both from himself and others. Some said, he much increased his wealth, With harsh and hard proceeding ; Though many he restored to health, With blistering and bleeding. But Death, with his old fashion'd dart, He came one Sunday morning, And touch'd a tainted tender part, And laid the Doctor groaning. Not all the medicine he possessed, Could heal what then was broke; And thus the Doctor found at last That dying was- no joke. 1:27 THE RACE COURSE IN RUINS. THOUGHTS GATHERED ON THE SPOT. NEAR forty years have wing'd their flight Since here we met with fond delight, When days were fine and health shone bright To see the race, And fondly fancied all was right And no disgrace! All ages from the country round Were in that living circle found, As soon as they had heard the sound Sea fane te see, The stalls of spice spread on the ground And hev a spree! Awd memmy on her profits bent Her barrels and her bottles sent, And lusty men their service lent An maidens fair, To fix her stakes and pitch her tent Or waiters there. Was in one humble jumble join'd, And some who seem'd as brothers kind Before t’ was night, Was with her old Jamaica lined And stript to fight! 128 THE RACE COURSE IN RUINS. The winding post was raised up The guineas in the purse were put, The race was both for horse and foot Sea proud that day, We sean beheld the champions strut And clear their way! I saw for one, and saw well pleas'd The tumult and the crowd increased, While each the eager moment seiz'd To have their fill, And few were with the question teased, - Wast good or ill !" The men gave us to drink their yall They said twould make our hair to curl, And help us fortune's wheel to whirl And win the prize, But since, we found they one and all Had told us lies! Old men were there, we nuts and spice And women fierce we box and dice, And other games of higher price T'was all their cry,-- Come lads an lasses dont be nice Come toss or buy! Fra’ Runswick they had come, and Steers We apples orranges and pears, We crabs and lobsters in their geers Fresh aut et seas,- And buyers buz'd about ther ears Li ke swarms of bees! THE RACE COURSE IN RUINS. 129 The swains were trim'd up in their best The maidens some in white were drest, We silken sashes round the waste Sea mighty fine, That some were led beyond the test. Of prudence line! Here gold leaced hats and silver cups Have glitter'd on the long pole tops, Which served for winding stops, and props To hod up't riggin,- While underneath, their smooky props The boys were swiggin. Here has the Jockey crack'd his whip Call’d for his grog, and geen em 't slip, Just teane em in as nice as nip By slight of hand, Then call’d his steed a base awd rip At waddent stand. Appeared as queen amang the bees, Yet had to mind her q's and p-'s To keep all right, To call the youngsters by degrees To't dance at night. While tipsy looers went off link'd ; In her pouch the money chink'd ; She to her trusty servand wink'd Sea full of glee, Then on the modest maiden blink'd We't to’ther ee. 2 H 1:30 RAU COURS is TUINS, TI Proud sat she on her little hill. The bumper or the glass to fill, And put the youngsters through the drill Of dice or card, Her fine form'd limbs have lang laid still E yon church yard! S Her coffin tire has gone to rust That living form has turn’d to dust; So if the world bide we soon must All lie beneath, And wait our final sentence just Of life or death! But few from such a place or state Would like to share poor H -son's fate, Or have their down-fall thus to date Among the dead, - Before he reach'd his pasture gate His spirit fled ! That crowd, alas ! where are they now? Some like the grass have had to bow, The scythe of death has laid them low They've had their day, Others who have escap'd his blow Are growing gray. Here solitude and silence reign, The ling grows lang upon the plain, Then scamper'd by the nymphs and swain The sports to see, A forlorn sandy heap remains Where 't use to be! THE RACE COURSE IN EUINS. 131 All ages, sexes, high and low That crowd has melted off like snow, And some alas ! for awght we know At then stood viewin, Fra sike things in eternal woe May trace ther ruin! Some few have made attempts of late The former days to immitate, And raise thersels to higher state We worldly ointment, But better light has mark'd thier fate We disappointment. Those few remarks do show us clear The quick decay of all things here, And speak loud words in every ear Of meaning vast, Such only as obtain God's fear * Their joys shall last! Here may we learn a lesson great, The wise and good to immitate, By others folly shun their fate And count the cost, Lest we repent when its too late And all is lost! IT For Jesus ! offers now his grace To all our wretched human race, To better their depraved case And live to him, To brighten up each gloomy face And vision dim! * Fear of the Lord tendeth to life.--Sal. 132 THE RACE COURSE IN RUINS, His spirit will his light afford To show the majesty of God, And path by all his servants trod, And mercy free, To all who search his blessed word And wish to see! Who turn their feet into his ways, The willing subjects of his grace, When they have run their christian race With him shall be, Secure within his holy place His glory see ! He calls his weary wanderers home And censures those who will not come, And threatens with a fearful doom All who rebel, That such must feel the wrath to come And fire of Hell ! May we forsake our wicked deeds And melt while still his merey pleads ! Give up all false and formal creeds His word condemns, Be found, when on his fiery-steed * Among his gems! • He comes. 133 THE MARTYRS. UR REFLECTIONS AFTER READING A BOOK CALLED “THE DAYS OF QUEEN MARY." Christian ! for one moment pause and see, The privilege so dearly bought for thee ! HEAR the friends of martyrs wailing, Earth itself appears to shake! Whom the sinew'd arm is trailing, Bound unto the fiery stake. Gleaming spears around them shining, Bearded savages look on : Others deep in dungeons pining, Till their strength and life is gone! Up to heaven their eyes are fixed, Where their prayers and tears ascend, With a Saviour's merits mixed, Christ alone is now their friend ! Do but mark the strange confusion, See the morning stars lament! Man is sunk in such delusion, Sin has gone to such extent ! Furies rais'd by' false opinions, Lift the smoke and fan the flame, Darken more those dark dominions, Brand them with eternal shame. 134 THE MARTYRS. Holy men and book's rejected, Few their message dare receive ; Purest modes of faith detected, Scarce allow'd on earth to live. Persecution's insurrection, Hunts them out, where'er they be, Glories in their swift destruction Sanction'd by a queen's decree. Hear the false accuser boasting, Void of pity, void of grace, While the christian victim's roasting, Mocks his maker to his face. . See the heated spirit rising, Perfect god, for to adore, Midnight mobs, no more surprising, These the flame can scorch no more! Hovering spirits, torches lighting, Quick as meteors to convey, That which they are proudly slighting, To the nations, far away. Now they think the conquest's gain'd, Spread their ashes on the hill, And the pile with horror stain'd, The cold moon shines and dews distil. While we read their mournful storý, They adore their mighty king; While they bask in beams of glory, We their glorious victories sing! 133 1 HOPE AND FEAR AS EXERCISING THE BELIEVER. THE few that were left had lamented long The barrenness of the ground, Where a chapel with great care had erected been For hundreds of neighbours round, Who would not come, though many of them Had no salvation found ! The place though small, might be compar'd To a garden o'errun with weeds, With schools of ignorance the most profound And men of corrupted creeds ; And others with sinews as of iron strong Who could boast of their wicked deeds. Yet hope beheld a stream of light O'er the mountains find its way, That the place might still a blessing prove To some at a future day;- Then a fear broken in, that before that time A great many might miss their way! There were men not far, whose hoary locks Bespoke their weight of years, Whose wicked words and haggard looks Indicated their guilty fears, Who of course, ere long, whether purg'd or not Must quit this vale of tears. 136 YI OFK AND FEAR. There were some blam'd this, and some blam'd that, Thus all had some excuse, To justify the conduct of such As might that call refuse ; Others grumbling said, (though it cost them nought) - Such a place there was of no use !" On the sabbath free seats oft were empty found To give the preachers pain, And Satan was triumphing loud O'er the numbers he had in chain ;- Hope said that yet the sun might not shine Nor the lights yet burn in vain ! It was cheering once, while under the word To a neighbour who sat not far, And welcome as after a stormy night Was the radiant morning star ! When the sinner seem'd to lay his weapons down And cease the inglorious war. But again hope sicken'd at the sight, And gloomy fear prevailed, When a feeble effort he made for life But alas ! that effort failed, On Zion's glory he turned his back And again into Egypt sailed. Hope again reviv'd when a tear was seen To roll from a female's eye, Where others thick and fast were gathering round, Like drops in the clear blue sky,-- More precious they seem'd than evening dews HOPE AND FEAR. 137 But Satan also had his school With which much pains he took, Who at that solemn hour carousing were In a tavern across the brook,---- Who neither car'd for God! nor Jesus Christ! Nor his Sabbath! nor his Holy Book ! ! Hell saw, displeased, and an agent sent To that place without delay, With flattering words and false reports To wipe the tears away,- Or with his dark and devilish baits To lead such souls astray! Hope revived, when under the Sermon sat A mother, who had travell’d far To hear the word, and a penitent seem'd On that night, when we saw no star, But folly's fine bells soon tinkled again And fear them hopes did mar! It was not long when a cloud arose Which eclips'd the prospects bright, A fear arose, not without just cause And hope for a while took flight, - When in the dancing room she was found At the silent noon of night! Her house was the haunt of vulgar men Her daughters became rude and wild, They introduced a musical band Where night by night they toil'd, - Thus Satan set a respectable snare For husband, wife, and child ! 133 HOPE AND FEAR. An agent from a distance came To teach them the rural art, To finger in style the nimble key And each perform his part,- But the chief object which he had in view, Was to draw from God the heart. It is allowed by the laws of hell And Satan's high command, For his servants to answer any turn Or system that comes to hand, In chapels to sing, or play at cards, Or dance to the music band ! S So he sends his agents round to enlist The youth of the present age, Who become so bold in wickedness, And fierce as the ocean's rage,- Though an angry God, in a single hour Could sweep them off life's stage ! Yet hope lifts up her drooping head To the stars that must one day fall, And steadfast to the promise looks As the needle to the distant pole, When God, his Christ, his angels, and saiols Shall reign and conquer all! 139 ON FRIENDSHIP. FRIENDSHIP, how sweet, thy charms I greet With gladness when thy face I see; In this I'm lost to count the cost, To pay the debt I own to Thee. At home, abroad, or on the road, Thy virgin smile I often see ; Thy kindly hand, in a strange land, Hath cheer'd, reviv'd, and welcom'd me, The starving poor well knows the door, Or palace, where thou deign's to dwell; And so do I; this to deny Would prove me worse than Infidel. Thy golden ore on Britain's shore, Lay scatter'd like the dew of morn; Thy sister's love, thy charms approve, And all thy purest acts adorn. Thy beams divine more nobly shine, When planted in a female breast; Whose feeling heart acts a glad part, To cheer the downcast or distrest. 110 ON FRIENDSHIP. Whose dove-like eye when orphans cry, Withholdest not the crystal tear; Thinks no disgrace such to embrace, Feels every pang that seems severe. While to the old her arms unfold, When bending under loads of grief; Thinks what they were, and what they are, Shows pity, not without relief. May Heaven regard and such reward, For all their secret acts of love ; And may she still their treasure fill, And bring them safe to Heaven above. When far from home I've chanc'd to roam, And night's dark shade did me surround, I've sought to gain—nor sought in vain, The smiling welcome I have found. When at the door, at a late hour, Griev'd to disturb such silent rest; Fear and hope fight, to have their right; To knock, or travel, which was best. Hope conquers, and the trembling hand Lifts the rapper ; lifts his eyes; A damsel bright appears in sight, Without dismay, without surprise. I did iejoice to hear her voice, When damp with nightly dews I'd been; See her come down without a frown, To let the weary wanderer in. JOSEPHw 'S ELEGY. For such, dear Ann, I never can Pay you sufficient recompence : Those lines I've penn'd, and to you send, As a token of remembrance. It may be said, when I'm low laid, By thee, or some allied to thee; Come, friend give ear, and you shall hear, Some of poor CASTEE's poetry. “We mourn, yet not like those without hope." Yes! thou art gone, dear youth, and gone to rest, The ties which bound thee to our earth are broken: Such souls as thine, are number'd with the blest, For so the word of mighty Truth hath spoken. The Lamb of God did offer thee his grace, And light was by the Holy Spirit given,- Because thou didst the glorious boon embrace, And gained the favour of insulted Heaven ! 'Tis well for those who thus like thee begin, To seek and strive to get Religion early; To pray, repent, and shun the paths of sin, To gain by Faith in Christ a title fairly. 142 JOSEPH'S ELEGY. Though wicked men, at such a choice may scoff, At those who have to wisdom's voice attended; If such like thee, should chance to be cut off, Their anguish with this weary life is ended. Thou hadst thy times and place for secret prayer, Where thou for Lealholm's harden'd sinners pleaded, - But few of them, alas! are yet aware That such a high concern for them was needed. Thy conflict's o'er, thy earthly work is done, No more thy voice is with the brethren blending: The bitter's past, thy Pilgrim race is run, Exchang'd for songs and triumphs never ending. We look among the trees and miss thee now, Where thou this earthly soil hast dug and weeded ;--; Where no such care or labour will be needed ! The cause of Zion did lay near thy heart, And mingled with thy daily conversation ; While in that cause thou took an active part, . The sinners own’d thee worthy of thy station. Nor Ampleforth, no more shall see him there, Where true Religion did his soul inspire, Nor hear his voice-led out in fervent prayer, To kindle up in them devotion's fire ! In youthful prime his spirit took its wing From our cold climate and its rulers hoary, Up to the harps of God, where seraphs sing, To gaze with them upon the scenes of glory. TU 143 FOX TAKEN IV. TRAP. His soul now wrapp'd in high devotion's flame, Shall drink pf pleasures never-failing fountain ; Then rise and sing high honours to his name, Whose blood for us stain'd Calvary's high · mountain. May we that's left not fear to win the day, Our God is strong and mighty to deliver, If we but do the great command obey, Our conflicts too, ere long, shall cease for ever. Yes! Joseph, he was safe conducted home, Spite of the scarlet Whore, and her deceiver; Without the Bishops, or the priests of Rome, He lived and died in Christ, a sound Believer ! TO A FOX TAKEN IN A TRAP. FOXEY! what were you doing to be taken in the snare? Sure if you'd known, ye never would have took up lodgings there : Perhaps last week ye little thought that trade so soon would fail, With eye so bright, on frosty night, to wander hil· and dale. it 144 TO A FOX TAKEX IX À TRAP. “ Whilst in my nightly rambles, when I went into that drain, I little thought but to have found a passage out again : Although one fellow prisoner I had the hap to see, Yet after all, I had no dread that trap was set for me.” Foxey! what wad ye give us for to snap that piece of chain, To throw the doors open, and let ye loose again? If I was in your place I should scarce know what to do; I'd give the world, if it were mine, to scale the mountain's brow. “ 'Those talking men, and barking dogs, they make me sore afraid, And my little trembling beating heart the conse- quences dread: 0! if it was but in my power, and I could have my will, I'd give all the geese in the parish to be out at top of the hill." on the links are the beautie On the fate expected morn, when the huntsman's horn doth blow, If you will but take a friend's advice I'll tell you what to do: When I should see there is a chance, I'd to some river speed my way, Then I'd jump in, and swim across, and bid them all good day. TO A FOX TAKEN IN A TRAP. 145 TO A FOX TAKEN IN A TRAP. 145 " I thank ye for your kind advice, I'll try the same Of the time I have allotted me, I'll try the best to make : I hope my sly pursuers will warning take by me; When there's a chance, to rid the chain of sin's captivity!" ) O Foxey! thou should tremble then, and take a friend's advice, For they mean to buy and sell thee like a piece of merchandise; And should thou fall a prey to them, before thou reach the Craggs, They'll take thy bonny jacket and tear it all to rags. “ Their mercy it is cruel, as I've heard old foxes say, If it was not for this piece of chain I'd soon be far away; And if those men would set me free, as I have been before, I'd make a faithful promise, I would steal their geese no more !" . SHEEP MARKING AT WESTERDALE. The Sheep! who can blame them for paying us off, For cruel confinement, and treatment so rough; For dogging them out of the clover and closes, For spotting their jackets, and burning their noses, 'Twas thus we were spending the hour after dinner, As void of all dread as a case-hardened sinner : The sheep appeared shocked at those cruel environs, The smell of the pitch, and the smoke of the irons. One little sharp wether set up to be master, As though he had wished us to mark a bit faster ; He slipped by the catcher, and sprung to the door, Upset the pitch-kettle, and marked us all sore ! From such a disaster we sought a release, By clipping and scraping, hot water, and grease ; A proof of this story we need not to lack, For the sheep long will carry the patch on his back. The spots and the patches our garments disgrace, Like sin and corruption-so bad to erase : There's nought can the mighty pollution subdue, But the garment, or heart, being formed anew! 147 THE LEISURE HOUR. DANBY CHURCH YARD. WHEN eventide the skies adorn, Then is the time to walk alone, Or sit beneath some aged tree, And tune the woods to melody! There, with the feathered songsters join, In harmony almost divine ;- Where no bad song or breath intrude, Throughout the flowery solitude. To flee the Village revelry, And mark each fleeting vanity, There, with some holy book or friend, Consult our origin and end; Or when the world's in slumber laid, To walk and muse amongst the dead ; Attend the lectures which they give, And learn the happy art to live! To live, by dying every day, Although refresh'd oft by the way, With drink from Zion's purest rills., And bread from off the Holy Hills ! With visions of that city fair, Of sweetest song, and purest air, Which cheers this life's dark day or night, And makes even labour a delight! 148 THE DEVIL'S TEN COMMANDMENTS. PROYED FROM SCRIPTURE. LIVE TO THYSELF; Mind thine own things ; this is the first and great command on which all the rest hang, and to which they serve same as, “ Be thine own God or Idol.” II. LET THY WILL BE THY LAW; Thou art thine own; thy tongue is thine own : thy time is thine own; thy estate is thine own; Mayest thou not do what thou wilt with thine own III. MAKE THY BEST OF THE TIME PRESENT, And of present things ; lose not a certainty for an uncertainty. Who knows what shall be hereafter? Eat and Drink, for to-morrow thou diest; be merry while thou mayest; spend while thou hast it : Death comes, and then there is an end of all thy mirth, THE DEVIL'S TEN COMMANDMENTS. 14G IV. FLESH; Come not into bondage ; be not a voluntary slave to a strict and restrained life; when thou mayest, if thou wilt, use thine own liberty. V. CONTINUE IN SIN BECAUSE GRACE HATH ABOUNDED; Christ died for sinners ; God is merciful; Why then shouldest thou fear to take thine own course? VI. DO AS OTHERS DO; Go along with the multitude ; fashion thyself to the times; be not singular; why shouldest thou think thyself wiser than others ? VII. DO NO MORE IN RELIGION THAN NEEDS ; Be not righteous overmuch; be not over forward; a little faith, a little repentance, will serve thy turn. 1 2 1 THE DEVIL'S TEN COMMANDMENTS. VIII. DO NOT TROUBLE THYSELF ABOUT OFFENCES; Thoughts are free ; words are but things of course; What man is there that lives and sins not? Why should thou make much ado about thy sins, are they not but little ones? IX. BE NOT OVER HASTY; If thou must repent, it is time enough yet ; torment not thyself before thy time; Repentance will be well enough at last when thou art old, thou wilt then have little else to do; be not old while thon art young X. TRUST GOD WITH THY SOUL, RATHER THAN MAN WITH THY BODY; That is, choose iniquity rather than affliction ; ven- ture no farther in matters of religion than thou mayest with safety. 151 ON THE REMOVAL OF THE OLD CAM BRIGG. DATED 1668. YES, many a lusty limb has gone to wreck, Since thou was laid Cam-Brigg across yon beck, And many a noble hero, stout and brave, Thou's been of use for years, to multitudes, To seedsman, harvesters, and funeral crowds ; Yes, many a nimble foot, and mind forlorn Across the tumbling waters thou has borne ! Since thou was laid, what changes have took place! What births, what deaths, among the human race ! Great men have come and gone, by fame renown'd, Realms overturn'd, and kings dethron’d, and crown'd. What cities burnt, what battles won and lost, Ships built and sunk, or on the ocean tost; New lands discover'd, and superior light To banish superstition, dark as night! What frost, what heats, what troubles and delights, Sun shiny days, and dismal stormy nights, Still o'er the murmuring stream, or furious flood, Thou to thy post has long unshaken stood! TA 1.52 TIIE OLD CAN-BRIGG. Though many a thousand rubbers thou hast bore, Thou still art strong, and very little wore ; Unblemish'd by disorder, cold or fever, Thou still remains as good a bridge as ever. Some have attempted for to lead across Thy narrow bosom, the adventurous horse ; And some have slipt into the gulf beneath, Which might have prov'd instantaneous death. Some heroes thus have had their courage tried, While others have gone safe from side to side ; Though this was nearer, 'tis beyond a doubt, 'Twas always safer to go round about. But now thy time is up, thy reign is o’er, For thou art here to be a bridge no more, We are building now another in thy place, To be admired by a future race. And destine thee to lay in Low-wood-lane, Where thou may be a bridge if earth remain, Another hundred years, or two, or three; A hundred years, is as a day to thee! Hadst thou a tongue what stories would thou tell, Of men and things, and how they rose and fell; By thee I see life measured to a span, Thy silence seems to say -POOR SHORT LIV D MAN! 152 THE GLAZEDALE NEW BRIDGE. BUILT IN 1827-3. How wise are they who build upon the rock ! Whose work will have to stand earth's fatal shock ; They may be sure, who build upon the sand, In that dread hour the fabric will not stand. This bridge may be a preacher to the car That's open good instruction for to hear, The walls are firm, and its foundation good, To face the storm, or overwhelming flood. And therefore he who dare not trust his ears, May look below, and see the rock appears ; By which, the uncertain sinner soon may see, How he is building for Eternity! 1 The Bible shews to him the gospel plan, Ordain'd of old to rescue fallen man ; 'Tis there the “Rock of ages” fair appears, Who counts the cost, will bathe it with his tears ! Venture his little all, to build thereon His gold or silver, pearl or precious stone; He knows that nothing else will stand the test, When fire will try men's works, and which is best. 154 INTENTERANCE. Christ Jesus is the Rock, there is no doubt, Which all the ancient prophets pointed out, The precious pearl, the Rock in Zion laid, To build thereon, none need to be afraid ! Repentance, Faith, and Holiness of heart, To all who come aright, he will impart; With every grace, his spirit doth afford, And without which " no man shall see the Lord !" Those narrow souls that will not build thereon, Their fate will be,-Eternally to mourn ; For they must sink into the gulf below, Of fatal ruin, and Eternal woe! INTEMPERANCE. WHAT Vulture is this, whose wings affect the light, And makes men fall and stumble at noon day? Dark’ning the Sun by day, and Moon by night, With ear attentive to the tavern's song, He, hovering, haunts the precious souls of men, With fiery eyes, and talons sharp and strong, Enough to tear the Lion from his den. IXTEJTERASCE. 155 He sings to see men welt'ring in their gore, And triumphs o'er, or feeds upon the dead; Your hearts would bleed could you the graves explore To see the horrid havoc he has made. What is his name, say you? who best can tell; Writ on his vest- behold it as he flies ; For to great numbers he is known too well; Oh! read it, all ye prudent, and be wise ! O read it! and the mighty danger flee ! In letters large his subtlety's exposed; Still only those who walk upright can see, Whose wakeful eyelids sloth has seldom closed. He couches down, and darkens all the street, Where yon poor reeling drunkard seeks his door! Through midnight gloom he watches careless feet, In hopes to see them rise to fall no more ! Deluded men, who thus abhor the light, And love more dear to wander in the dark; To drink and revel through the live-long night, Then snore content beneath the morning lark. To what may we those noble men compare? A King informs us what a drunkard is, Who rushes sensibly into the snare, And fancies it a kind of earthly bliss ! 77 A drunkard is a spoil to common wealth, The Brewer's agent, and the Surgeon's friend; Wastes by degrees his substance and his health, Nor values those who do the truth defend. An enemy to all domestic bliss, A stranger to real comfort and content; 156 INTEMPERANCE. His castings up are like the troubled seas ; While death to him his fatal shafts present. Mild modesty his glaring favour shuns, And points him out à beggar in disguise ; And blushing Prudence from his presence runs, And weeps in silence, wonder, and surprise ! An advocate for mischief and distress, The ale-house benefactor and support; A trumpet discord in a land of peace, Where fools and scoffers constantly resort. A trouble to defenders of the law, His own tormentor, and his parent's grief; His children's sorrow, and his helpmate's woe! He wounds, and for those wounds seeks no relief! A slothful.lump of earth, a tub of swill, He sleeps in summer while his neighbours toil; Puts no restraint upon his headstrong will, While lazy songs his precious hours beguile. Worse than a beast this monster man must be, And drinks his messmate's health so cheerfully, Still all the while he thus destroys his own! Oh see to what distress those tribes are brought, O hear their widows weep, and orphans cry; They spend their wretched strength and wealth for . naught; They without honour live, and hopeless die! O if such be their course, and such their end, Into their secret come not, O my soul ! THE BROKEN GUIDE POST. 157 Who thus for ease and luxury contend, Then drown their sorrows in the flowing bowl. Tho' they entice with flattering words and fair, Mine honor, join not their society; But rather far into the desert flee! The crystal fountain and the shaggy bank Will yield more satisfaction unto thee, Where tufted trees arise in silent rank, With woodland songsters, and the humming bee! THE BROKEN GUIDE POST.* Poor wounded sentinel ! Thou hast lost thine arms Hast thou been in the midst of war's alarms, Or has the teeth of time Nibbled them off by bit and bit? * On passing it between Yearsley and Easingwold, a per- fect stranger to the course of the country; as also being di- rected wrong by two careless Villagers, and losing my way, having to lodge in a cow-shed, and glad of it. 158 THE BROKEN GUIDE POST. O say, what is thy crime, That thou art thus disabled and disowned Who should have been with famous titles crowned, Or trimm'd up in decent regimentals? And bearing on thy front the grand essentials, The poor benighted traveller to tell Without an if, where friends far distant dwell. O tell me, am I right, or am I wrong? Alas! thou cannot, thou hast lost thy tongue, And I'm in want of present information, Alas! poor stump! Thou’rt useless on this occasion. By thee, as Scotchmen say, “I dinna ken" Whether I have to go one mile or ten Here's three road ends, and I don't know Which to take; O tell me, if thou can’st, for pity's sakem Pity! where dost thou dwell ? Where hast thou thine abode? 'Tis but seldom thou art met with on the road ; - No! thou hast fled away to happier climes. Where some poor shepherd weaves his artless rhymes. But tell me, thou pretenäed traveller's guide, Which way to go, for sure the world is wide; I see no living thing within a shout, To set me right; No friendly cottager is looking out, And I'm just on the edge of night. 'Tis evident thou can tell no lies : Whoever thy direction may despise, Which points to nought, but upwards to the skies. THE BROKEN GUIDE POST. 1!.9 Stand then, and crumble down, Thou cannot run away; For legs thou hast but one, And that's stuck in the clay. Stand then, for To reprove thy brave surveyor, Who seems to neither know nor care What comes of the poor lonely stranger, While thus exposed to storms, or nightly danger. Ah! little does he know, nor either care, While he sits free from woe, snug in his old arm- chair, How thy dumb hallo bitters every sweet, And adds new pain to blistered feet. The fault is his, the blame cannot be thine, Therefore 'tis he that ought to pay the fine; I've a good mird to turn informer, then, When handed out among judicious men, Or folded up into a kind of song, We'll soon see who is right, and who is wrong. When all was well, then thou spoke the truth, On friendlier terms than yonder careless youth, Who makes the weary traveller to stray In paths forbidden, and to lose his way, Through bad direction putting him to trouble, And causing him to have his way to double ; By glow-worm light, o'er field, or lane, or moor, To wander past his legal lodging hour. And then to dusky cow sheds have to creep, And there on strawy pavements try to sleep ; Or like a thief, to watch the morning light, And keep himself conceald from human sight; 160 A CALL TO THE CARELESS. Then snugly slip away, And again pursue the business of the day. But 'tis no matter which, Whether he sleeps in feather bed or ditch ; The man who Israel's God doth love and fear, Whom he has favoured with a conscience clear, Le fate run high or low, he's happy any where; Then let us never mind, life's storms will soon blow o'er : If we but gain fair Canaan's lovely shore, One hour in that bless'd world will make amends for all ;- For this, then, let us faithfully contend, And persevere unto the end, Till shouts of victory shake This little shatter'd ball Of ours to atoms. A CALL TO THE CARELESS. AWAKE! O ye sleepers, awake! Or soon you will smart ’neath the rod ! Be thankful you're not in the lake, That burns with the anger of God! Your life as a vapour will prove, Your days as a shadow will flec; Then seek to have treasure above, And struggle from sin to be free! A CALL TO THE CARELESS. 101 2 O sinners! be honest and yield To the Spirit of God when He strives ; Or you will be slain in the field, When He with His army arrives ! : This Jesus shall conquer the world! The proud and the lofty subdue ! With terrible banners unfurl'd, Shall sift both believers and you :- The poor, not because he is poor, Nor the rich for his riches regard; But thoroughly purging His floor, Appoint unto each his reward ! Believers ! who wish to be whole ;- A fountain long open hath been, To wash out the spots of the soul, O hasten to wash and be clean! When sin shall experience its death, Then you the grand secret shall know; Shall Heaven enjoy upon Earth, And be happy and useful below 162 AN ELEGY ON THE DEATH OF A BELOVED CHILD. My little boy! my lovely boy! Why in such haste away? Will no embrace, or tempting toy,' Induce thy longer stay? What prompted thee the day before, To climb thy Father's knee,- Spring to the window or the door, With such unusual glee? I wonder oft, with wakeful eye, And think it might be so, Some Spirit then was passing by, And beckon'd thee to go! I recollect with other things, Which I have felt and fear'd, Once something like the sound of wings, Within the room was heard ! Hast thou in infant vision seen The city of our God? Or on those holy mountains been, By saints and angels trod ? ÅN ELEGY. 163 Or hast thou heard the melody Which fills the courts above? Or has thy Saviour shown to thee If so,-no wonder thou should'st look So light on all below; If thou hast tasted of the brook Where living waters flow! No wonder thou with such delight, Didst view the rising sun: Then glance on us thine eye so bright, And flutter to be gone! If thou hast seen among heaven's choirs, The crown that thou shalt wear., Forgive a parent's fond desires, To keep thee longer here. If thou among earth's griefs and joys, Hadst any longer stayed, With other rude and wicked boys, Hadst into evil strayed ;~- Who died thy soul to save, Thy parents' heads might have been laid With sorrow in the grave. If it be wrong to mourn for thee, The Lord that wrong forgive, And grant us grace each day, that we In him may walk and live. 164 AN ELEGY. O could our faith but pierce the gloom That hovers round our clay, We might prefer an early tomb, To one that's old and grey! Could we but hear the songs they sing, Or see the robes they wear, Twould give our resolutions wing, With longings to be there. To see those heavenly harpers young, Light up the sacred fires ; To see their nimble fingers run Would make a man forget his grief, His conflicts here below, And give a mother's soul relief, With languishings to go! Would make us all forsake our sin, And Jesus Christ adore, And bring the resolution in, To grieve our God no more. Would make us to His house resort, To weep, and watch, and pray, Until we gain that blissful post Where tears are wiped away! 165 WISDOM. THE TRAVELLER'S CONSOLATION. WISDOM ! how bright thy excellencies shine ! To speak in praise of thee my object is; To commend to all thy comeliness divine, Thou fair director to the climes of bliss ! Such boldness scarce becomes a child of dust, A branch of ancient Adam's tainted stem ; But duty bids me, therefore speak I must, Although unfit to touch thy garment's hem! Wisdom, thou river! O thou sea immense ! Where shall my lowly views begin, In order not to mar thy excellence, Deface thy beauty, nor encourage sin ! Thy charms are new each day, in every place! Yet old as ancient earth's foundation stone, Tho' thousands have and do the same embrace, Thy purity was ne'er defiled by one! Borne on thy wing, bold contemplation soars, Visits a world beyond the worlds we see! A world more glorious, fraught with richer stores, Where all thy followers shall for ever be ! 2 K 166 For want of thee, amidst a frowning world, Torn from the sumptuous fare on which they fed, Proud men of state are into prison hurl'd, With loathsome insects to seek a bed ! For want of thee, in yon tumultuous town, Virginity is blasted in her bud; Though thousands for the same are overthrown, And fall beneath the vengeful hand of God! For want of thee, the simple youth's ensnared, Refusing of thy dainties for to taste, Though thou for him rich bounties hast prepared, And kindly call'st him to the costly feast ! He'll pass thy window with a scornful eye, And rather choose the way which leads to death ; He'll rather choose his lust to gratify, Which he soon pays for with his dying breath! By thee directed, in yon seaport town, I've scaped the snares of the deluded throng; With peace invested, boldly I've sat down Where tipsy harlots sung their wanton song! Thy whispers cheer'd me through the silent night, When raving drunkards roar'd around the bowl, And pointed me to more supreme delight, While loud blasphemies shock'd my very soul ! And brazen trumpets echo'd through the gloom, And carriage tumult roll'd along the street, To thee I've fled and found sufficient room! WISDOM. 167 For contemplation where I might survey With secret glance, the glories of the skies, The beauties of religion's golden ray, That source from which all solid comforts rise ! May thy important lessons never be, Since I have here to act a christian part, Despised, rejected, or abused by me, But take and keep possession of my heart ! Despise thee! nay, I scorn the gloomy thought, But while in secret I do thee adore, Seeing the mighty wonders thou hast wrought, I am constrain'd to love thee more and more! Though I despised thee when a careless youth, I'll now pursue thee to my latest breath, For I'm persuaded from the word of truth, Those that hate thee do certainly love death ! Lo! wisdom weeps at folly's mad career, Vice triumphs still and flings her giddy head, While innocency bleeds with pangs severe, Grim cruelty in all their sufferings tread ! Here, folly, see thy sickly picture drawn; If wisdom then has here her share of grief, If wisdom has her miseries to mourn, How can poor folly lead a happy life! Shine forth thou precious morning star divine, Display thy beauty and expel the gloom, Into those dark benighted corners shine, Revive those shades with ever-during bloom ! 168 BOB AND BILL'S ALARM. To thee and thy great author be the praise That ever I thy charming voice did hear Or ever felt thy soul enlivening rays, Which melts the heart and brings salvation near! Do you lack wisdom, ask it then of God ;- So all have done who have true wisdom got; Ask then according to his holy word, And he will give, and will upbraid you not! BOB AND BILL'S ALARM. BOB WAS A SINNER--BILL WAS A BACKSLIDER. 6 COME Bill let's away to the meeting The neibours are ganging all round, There's numbers salvation are seeking, And others they tell us have found ;- Let us hasten away to the temple Before their devotion begins, Avoiding the scornful and simple, And try to get rid of our sins !" BOB AND BILL'S ALARM. 169 “ Well, Bob, I feel glad in my bosom To think you are this way inclined, Tho' Satan tries hard to oppose them, · Yet all the true seekers shall find; The lads have come on from the moorlands They tell us of wonderful things, That the Lord is converting by thousands, And we are asleep in our sins !" " I've oft felt, Bill, while set by the bottle Until it disorder'd the brain, And tried till I scarcely could tottle, To smother conviction in vain ; Like a bud that is late in the season I e'en felt something struggle within, Which told me in spite of my reason, I still was asleep in my sin !" - Well, Bob, this is honest confession, If we sin could as easy forsake, The Lord would forgive our transgression, And bless us for Jesus's sake ;- The fire it is flaming all round us; The world with its poisons and stings, Is trying to blast or confound us, Or rock us asleep in our sins !" “Old Guisbro the message is receiving, And Skelton is catching the flame, And Stanghow and Moorsholm's believing, And Brotton does sanction the same; Poor Liverton still is lamenting, Her harpers have raffled their strings ; And there's some in Lofthouse repenting, Yet we are asleep in our sins !" 170 BOB AND BILL'S ALARM. - Upleatham has catch'd the emotion, And Marske is beginning to sing ; All down by the side of the ocean, They'r owning this Christ for their king;- Some say it is all a delusion, And try for to trouble the springs, But, Bob, 'twill be greater confusion To go down to Hell in our sins!" “ Bill, what do you think of Backsliders, Those fellows have puzzled me long, Oft when I would join with Believers, Their conduct has battled my song ;- They seem'd to run well for a season, But as tho' they had broken their shins ; I've ponder'd to find out the reason Which keeps me asleep in my sins !" “ Cease, Bob, at those wretches to wonder, Tho' now they may bluster and storm, Jehovah will hew them asunder Unless they repent and reform ;- Though now they may nick-name his people, Reproaching his priests and his kings, They soon shall sink under the steeple And reap the reward of their sins! - Let us hasten away to the fountain, They say it is open for all, A stone has come out of the mountain Will crush us if on us it fall; All hearts that are soft with contrition, In that fountain may wash and be clean, May better their wretched condition, And find the forgiveness of sin! BOB AND BILL'S ALARM, 171 " There, Jesus is calling and waiting To rescue the people from woe, His servants his words are repeating And saying “ will you also go ?" — Let us put away all our excuse, Nor tamper with trifling things, For all who God's inercy refuse Must sink to the pit in their sins ! 66 The mischief is found out by tracing, Which kept us so long in the dark, Till Heathens the truth are embracing, And bid us escape to the ark ; Lest we also should be consumed When the world's great disaster begins, Let us look to the Lamb that was wounded, And try to get rid of our sins! “ Long time they have tried to persuade us The best of all council to take, Our conscience will ever upbraid us Unless we confess and forsake;- The youngsters are giddy and flappy, They trifle with serious things, But, Bob, we shall never be happy Until we get rid of our sins.” 172 THE OPEN FOUNTAIN UNDEFILED. In passing up and down in this weary wilderness of tears, I happened to visit a place which seemed to claim the most sincere and earnest attention, the structure, and some of those things connected with it, I have here copied out, for the inspection of all whom it may concern. It appeared to me to ness, regularity, order, and similarity, one part of it so well corresponded with another. On the first approach, it strikes the attention and the eye, as it very extensive mountain, consisting of solid rock in the front, which appeared to have been cut away in a perpendicular direction so that no mark of any tool could be traced from the top to the bottom of this magnificent piece of wonder! This rock, so stu- pendiously high, and so perfectly upright, as if formed by some architectural skill, superior to any at the present day; it at once seemed the most ancient and at the same time the most modern. It appeared to be in its nature impenetrable flint- out of which issued a fountain of water as elear as crystal, so far famed for its virtues and healing effi- cacies, as to bring people to visit it from almost all quarters of the globe. Many have received real good by its application—others by mixing other medicamentums with it (as fools will be meddling,). FOUNTAIN UNDEFILED. 173 even the application has done them more harm than good. Still this pure stream kept in itself the same healing qualities as when taken in a proper manner and at proper seasons : it was a cure, nay, I believe, the only cure for all diseases. The fountain, notwithstanding the numerous visi- tors bid defiance to all pollution or adulteration; the perpetuity of its flow seemed to mock or laugh at the narrow disposition of many of the visitors, as numbers of them were most grievously afraid of drinking too deep, or washing too clean ; this led them to many disputations and jealousies one of another, as none liked to be considered behind the other, or in plain words, to see others thrive better than themselves. From the plain, in the front thereof, which seemed to be laid out to please the most refined taste by its beautiful shrubberies, and the delightful fragrance proceeding from flowers of almost every clime, brought there by the lord of that country,-flowers, which through the circling year, some of them were always in season; espe- cially one in the centre called the Rose of Sharon, whose leaf never faded-and whose beauty never withered; all these, with the beautiful scenery around, made it appear like one continued spring. Some historians tells us that in former days when men were not so notoriously wicked, celestial visi- tants have been seen to hover near the place as if to converse with men; and the sound of heavenly harps have been heard by some who had been newly relieved of their calamities. From the plain, as you pass on towards the dark hills, every person may see, who will take the trouble to look, engraven in characters that speak all languages, just over the place where the water gusheth out, as with an angel pen, words similar to these :- 174 FOUNTAIN UNDEFILED. 6 Its stream the whole creation reach, So plenteous is the store ; Enough for all, enough for each, Enough for evermore.” The surplus was so plentiful that it was conveyed away by receivers or conductors to another place, it being considered too valuable to be wasted, the owner thereof having been at great expense. Yet many preferred rather to die of thirst than to have it on the terms offered, which was as it should be, 66 without money and without price." Others came crawling up so late in life, as not to have sufficient strength or intellect to go through the necessary preparations; never did human depravity shew itself more conspicuously. It was truly amusing, and almost amazing, and strongly indicated the ignorance still prevalent, to see the quarrels and hear the disputes in general amongst them, and of what they consisted. Many took offence at the use or abuse which others made of this beavenly liquid, so far as to take themselves entirely away from it, as though those who had access to it, (and none were forbid) had defiled it, although at the same time, they knew that to defile it was impossi- ble. Those despisers grounded their reasons or frivolous excuses on the most flimsy pretences, because, some with polluted pitchers, or vessels, were in the habit of attending (and no wonder among so many) who made a bad use of it. Instead of applying it in a proper manner, kept it until it spoiled, as the pitchers had that tendency, depend- ing a great deal upon the conduct and cleanliness of their owners, almost invariably making them either better or worse. Still these Paul Pry's, and Peep- ing Tom's, could not see, nay, we may say, they would not see, that fountain still remained FOUNTAIN UNDEFILED. 175 “The same in every time and place, Full for all of Truth and Grace.” But who cannot find an excuse that wants one, or that have other Gods to worship. But it was sur- prising to see many who were recorded wise men according to this world's opinion, and great scholars, as well as the poor peasantry, so led away with the trumpetings and tinkling noise of some merry villa- gers, who called evil good, and good evil, who lived not far off, and who seemed to be placed there just to disturb the peace of Zion, and to make proselytes for Hell; and not a few, but many followed their insinuating invitation, and went laughing by this glorious Bethesda, to the house of eternal mourning. What was most striking, few ever got cured who caught the deadly infection, or ever returned from this mischievous infatuation, which made me, and no doubt, others, groan and weep in secret for the slain of the daughters of my people, and pray that the Lord of the land might rouse his own armies to greater diligence, in order to snatch those smoking fire- brands, and bring them to that fountain which alone can quench their thirst and cure their maladies, 176 THE ROSE OF SHARON. "I am the Rose of Sharon and the Lily of the Valley." SOLUMCN'S SONG. THE Rose of Sharon is always in season, No changes of weather his beauty impair : When viewing its grandeur, did proud human reason, With insolence cry, no beauty is there. This wounded my feeling; I had not revived, . But Faith with its mirror, did soon interpose; Faith vanquish'd my anguish and early contrived, To show me the splendour of Sharon's sweet Rose. This Rose of Sharon to me is most precious, Could I have it planted secure in my breast, Methinks I would keep it a Rose so delicious, And ever extol it above all the rest. I cannot be happy until I'm extolling Its stupendous lustre my fancy has chose, I know by experience it will be disgracing, If I be found wanting of Sharon's sweet Rose. But I will draw nearer for closer inspection, To obtain my wishes no time will I lose : My heart is o'erflowing with purest affection, While the Muse is attempting the song to disclose. THE ROSE OF SHARON. 179 What means all this rapture that breaks out a swelling, You see I've obtained the thing which I chose, My fancy's presuming it always is smelling The glorious profusion of Sharon's sweet Rose. Most precious I find it to have such a flavour, Perpetually flowing from Sharon's old grove; From every infection it now is my saviour, No garlands or spices can I co approve. But here is the pleasure, we ne'er can be parted, The earth with its legions do try to oppose, My love is unchanging, he's ever true-hearted, There's nothing so lovely as Sharon's sweet Rose. But no sooner had I my object possessed, Than its value to others I long'd to reveal; It greatly reliev'd me when deeply distress'd, - It would be injustice its worth to conceal. All jewels and diamonds that language can mention, With Sharon's sweet lustre their beauty they lose; And Crowns and Dominions oft lead to contention, There's nothing compared to Sharon's sweet Rose. This Rose and its beauty is best to discover, When viewed through the mirror Jehovah's ordained, Its glorious appearance true Faith will uncover, When serious spectators would be entertained. Its glorious all over, you need not be doubting, In all Nature's garden such beauty ne'er grows; Since Adam was formed, Creation's been shouting There's nothing so lovely as Sharon's sweet Rose. 178 THE ROSE OF SHARON. This Rose is adapted to Man's weak condition ; Each applicant is certain a cure to obtain ; The requisite needed is genuine submission, No money is wanted the blessing to gain. Ye sin-sick and weary howe'er your infected, To bring your disorders no time you should lose, All things are now ready, learn what is suggested, There's nothing can heal you but Sharon's sweet Rose. This Rose in all ages has wonders achieved, But now its sweet fragrance more widely extend; All people and language its odours receiving, And nations in chorus its beauty commend. It's so efficacious our tongues fail in telling, Ye angels assist us to give the applause, Strike all your gold lyres in notes ever swelling, There's nothing so charming as Sharon's sweet Rose ! 179 THE MISTAKE: CONTAINING A MORAL FOR HIGH LOOKS, AND FORWARD FOLKS. Who range o'er hill and dale; Awhile give ear, and you shall hear A true and homely tale. · Ye friends at home, who seldom roam, Much farther than the mill, Or let your guns lie still. It happen'd where, as you shall hear, A building was erected, That to complete its breadth and height, Some workmen were collected. ( One morning chill, before yon hill Was gilded with the sun, Or adze, or axe, or mallet, had Their battering begun; Two favourite ducks, had 'scaped the fox, Well fed, and feather'd too; In sportive play, aspiring they Took wing, and off they flew, With airy wheel, they quick did scale, The lofty wall unscar'd, The trees they tupt, and down they dropt A gun-shot from the yard. 180 THE MISTAKE. A joiner ran, to fetch a gun The wild ducks to secure, The gun he brought, with which he thought, To make at least one fewer. Through mist and dew, the contents flew, A duck began to cry, And one took flight, and left our sight, Nor could we it espy. This done, the man full swiftly ran To gather up his game, Both fore and aft, the people laugh’d, To see his wild duck tane ! He set her down, she gaz'd around, Wond'ring at such abuse, But for her weight, or else she might Have pass'd for a wild goose. In friendship sweet, the ducks soon meet, And talk their frolic o’er, And in their play, they seem'd to say, They'll fly so high no more. Our thoughts oft may our skill betray, But actions they speak louder; If he'd been still, he'd saved his skill, Likewise his shot and powder! 181 THE HINT. THERE's some instruction here inclosed, To those who are not blinded, For to great danger we're exposed, If we be lofty minded. Both when awake, and when asicep, : Our foes around us roam; And if we don't our station keep, We're hardly safe at home. Then let us keep our humble sphere, Nor covet higher stations, Nor think our hardships too severe, Nor sport with recreations. But walk where peace, like rivers flow, For wisdom act the miser,-- And then, no doubt, but we shall grow Both happier and wiser. But some, they care not for those things, Whose hearts are like the flinto- The man who trembles for his sins Will easy take the hint. 182 MIDGES, OR GNATS. COMPOSED AND WRITTEN AT A TIME WHEN THLY WERE VERY TRUUBLESOME. WHAT means this envy from those insects small, Who claim a part of this stupendous ball! As if we wish'd to rob them of their right? Oh! that some friendly forces more in might Would put those, our insulting foes to flight! Whose congregated tribes, like tribes of war, Perform their mystic dance along the air,- Then rush in on us, as with pointed spears, And welcome others to the feast with cheers, Or sing in feeble triumph in our ears! As dauntless champions in pursuit of blood, Who war's tumultuous scenes long time have stood, Or like brave soldiers, to their latest breath Greedy of plunder--they in clownish mirth, Sit on our hands or face, till crush'd in Death! Ascend ye dews, ye mists, and vapours rise, Disperse ye clouds, and clear, ye upper skies; Shine forth, O sun, and blow, O gentle breeze- Sing, O ye birds, and wave your tops ye trees, And chase from us those little biting fleas! A COTTAGE ELEGY. 183 Fall soft ye showers, and fertilize the shade, And heal the wounds, by those intruders made; Ye woodbines wild, that in the forest bloom-- Ye fields and gardens, waft your sweet perfume And cheer the plants this numerous host consume! Ye zephyrs gay, which through the woodland sing, Come to our aid-extend your silvery wing, Into the deserts chase them all away ;- Our world with pleasure we shall then survey, And sing at work, and cheerful pass the day! From whence they come, he need not much enquirc, Who does Creation's wondrous works admire ; And if he cannot unriddle this—therefore, He may sit down with me, and ask no more- But in deep silence wonder, and adorc, That power which caused the Elephant to be! A COTTAGE ELEGY, ON THE DEATH OF AN INFANT. . THERE came to a cottaĝe a juvenile stranger, In the form of the fair, Where she seemed inclined to abide for a while, And to breathe the terrestrial air. Her case at that time was apparent distress, Her complaint was so tender and true, That the force of affection soon found her a dress, And her spirits they stiove to renew. 181 A COTTAGE ELEGY. Of the choice of their dainties they urg'd her to sip, And a balm for her griefs did apply, For love had just left the fair print on her lip, And innocence beamed in her eye. A mother's affections no sooner she claim'd, Than a mother's affections she prov'd; The dawn of each day gave proof of the same, She was kindly received and belov’d. It was under that roof where the weary find rest, And contentment her laurels doth weave ; Where the swallow hath skilfully stuck up her nest, And cheerfully chitters at eve. It was under that roof where the scent of the rose Wafted in at the window so near;— It was under that roof she found a repose, In vain she might seek for elsewhere. It was not long before her rigour increas'd, And she took a peep into the world; All nature was then in her loveliest dress, And the colours of May were unfurl'd. That morning was fine, the sun it did shine, The Cuckoo and small birds did sing; In ecstacies wild she fluttered and smiled, And seem'd pleased with the beauties of spring. But as though they had seen, by glances so keen, The peril which then interpos'd, The cloud of that day had scarce blown away, Ere them dear little sparklers closed. It so came to pass that in process of time, Affliction came stalking that way, A COTTACE ELEGY. 185 And pass'd by the guilty and tainted with crime, But the innocent mark'd for its prey. The shrub was too tender, life's springs were too tender, The mother repulsing the fever in vain, Its cheek bathed with many a tear. She could not help thinking her fate it was hard, So soon with her darling to part; Each smile or each pain, each nerve or each vein, Was wove with the strings of her heart ! Had fled from its delicate shell, Where it just stopt to breathe, then flit from beneath, In a happier region to dwell! The frail habitation, when thus dispossess'd, It soon became breathless and cold ;- I saw the dear clay on the bier where it lay, Like wax in angelic mould ! What though they be born and shapen in sin, Those who no transgression have known, The kingdom of Heaven is open to them, While “the blood of the Lamb doth atone! " Ye Mothers of children, then dry up your tears For the loss of the objects you love; There's no doubt but such now tune their harps To the anthems of Zion above! 185 SIGNS OF THE TIMES. ALAS! alas ! what mean these signs, The Heavens do display, Which puzzle some of our divines, Observant day by day! The lamps do burn so dim ? Why is it, that with Heaven's tears, Our earth is made to swim? Why is it, that yon orient sun, Just glances on the spires, Darts on the hills a splendid beam, And then again retires ? What mean those days of misty gloom, That cover hill and dale ; Why pass so many to the tomb, Through Death's cold chilly vale? What mean those signs by sea and land, The wise no more will ask : But in them see their Father's hand, And set about their task! Repent !-ye careless sons of men- Repent !—and be forgiven, - And "put on Christ," then you may stem The gathering wrath of Heaven ! 187 OLD SAM! OR, THE EFFECTS OF THE GOSPEL. RTY ATTEND, all ye who Zion's tidings love, Whose hearts and hopes are fix'd on things above, Whose chief delight is centred in the fame, Of signs and wonders wrought through Jesus' name; All ye who virtue love, and evil hate, Attend, while I a simple tale relate. A preacher being to a village sent, To warn and woo the people to repent; Depending only on God's mighty grace, His pious soul was looking for success. For God, his people had a house prepared, In which his arm had many times been bared, And in that little village congregation, Were found some earnest seekers of salvation. Among the rest a noted Bruiser stood, Whose hands had oft been stain'd with human blood; A man of constitution so robust, He oft had laid Goliaths in the dust. He fully on the preacher fix'd his eye, But scarcely could declare the reason why; The subject, and the theme on which he dwelt, Caught his attention, and its force he felt. 188 OLD SAM. He thought the preacher all his actions knew, His words, like arrows, pierc'd his conscience through; His spirits fell, his heart was sick and sore, Such anguish he had never felt before. It seem'd to him as if an angel spoke, He felt within as if his heart was broke, He thought he heard mount Sinai's thunder roll, Which shook the very centre of his soul ! Such mighty strokes soon humbled all his pride, He sank condemn'd, and loud for mercy cried. “ What shall I do ?” said he, “ Nay, who can tell ? Oh! how shall I escape the pit of Hell?". On bended knees he did salvation seek, Big tears roll'd down his long undaunted cheek :--- The people pray'd, the sinner wept the more,- This man, who till that hour, ne'er wept before. After a time his mighty anguish ceas'd, The Lord of life his captive soul-releas'd ! The joy he felt he scarcely could contain, The people sung-“a sinner's born again !!! Some time elaps'd-two of his mates had met, As custom was, and in a tavern sat, Conversing on events that daily pass'd, Till one the other thus address’d at last. “ Heard you not what occurred the other day? Old Sam has been converted, people say !" « Old Sam !" the other says, with great surprise, • What, Sam the Boxer?” “Yes !" the other cries ! “ Depend upon't, though you may think it strange, But in old Sam there is a wondrous change !" “ Nay,—he converted ! Pshay! 'tis all a whim; They've just as much converted me as him; And I can find a man, I have no doubt, That soon will beat all his religion out." OLD SAM. 189 " Perhaps not so," the other softly said, “ I think Old Sam's of better mettle made, I know that he was always bad to bend, And on his firmness I will still depend." The other rose, and would a wager bet, Old Sam was not so far converted yet, But that if pick'd at he would turn again, And still he would the bloody cause maintain. To Sammy's door their way direct they took, For he had now the tavern's haunts forsook ; They call'd a rebel out to lead the van, To vex and aggravate the poor old man. At length they reach'd, and rattled at the door, Standing around, like lions to devour His happy soul; but he had by his side, King David's faithful Shepherd for his guide. Old Sammy from reading his Bible rose, And straightway forth to meet the rebel goes ; “ Here's one,” say they, “ will fight for what you like!!! He stamp'd, and raged, and dared old Sam to strike ; - Sam look'd and smiled, as he before him stood, Then shook his head, thinking the cause not good ;. At length his flaming passion to control, * He cries, “ The Lord have mercy on thy soul ! Thy case I pity, O thou man of might, Although this practice once was my delight; Calm thy fierce rage, and to old Sam attend, Before destruction prove thy awful end. I clearly see the spirit thou art in, For I myself oft in the same have been; And many a one like thee I've made to bend, And brought their boasting valour to an end. 'Tis well for thee that I'm another man, Or thou wouldst rue the day that this began; 190 OLD SAM. I soon should settle all thy boasts and brags, And make thy bones fall rattling on the flags ! Thou may'st thank God, whose power and grace divine, Have chang'd this proud rebellious heart of mine ; The love I feel to thee forbids the blow, Which soon would lay thy boasting prowess low. Restrain thy passion, give old Sam thine hand, Be thankful that thou dost before him stand; Go tell the men whom once I did adore, Their wager's lost, old Sam will fight no more ; Tell them to save their money for their wives, Give up their folly, and reform their lives; To go and seek salvation while they may, Before the wrath of God drives them away !" Sam's noble speech so satisfied them all, That not one there durst him a coward call. “ Although the wager's fairly lost," say they, 66 We all must own old Sam hath won the day !!! Now Sammy like a warrior stout and bold, Seeks new companions, and forsakes the old; While shouts of praise his ravish'd ears surround, He hears, and understands, the joyful sound! Yes, Sammy has a better master now, And more substantial friends to deal with too; Secure he leans on his Redeemer's breast, And sweetly sings himself away to rest. bed :- A VISIT TO FARNDALE, Where many fellow-soldiers of the cross had left the church militant, and joined the church triumphant; on passing a de- serted cottage, wbere we use to assemble to pray and sing hymns, in which blessed exercise many of them were wonder- fully gifted, especially the Fords and Rickabys. Some were dead, and others were in America. WHERE are ye, my Friends ! of this dear belov'd valley, Whom I listen and look for, and search for in vain ? You'r gone from a land of disorder and folly, Where I still a stranger and pilgrim remain ! Our meetings, and partings, I right well remember, Our rambles in different parts of the dale; It was no matter which, whether June or December, The smile of your presence would season the gale. As soon as from either side the mountain I landed A shelter I found from the tempest that blew, Each want was supplied which nature demanded, Your songs were harmonious, your friendships were truc. 192 À VISIT TO PARNDALE. I seek, but in vain for that fireside party Who sang, or convers'd on those things that we lov'd, Where children smiled so youthful and hearty, The cottage's inmates are dead or remov'd! I seek for a friend to unbosom my story, But all are too busy at other employ, Yet few appear so much in earnest for glory As sweetens life's toil with the purest of joy. All sad and forlorn, as a mountain-side ranger, I visit the haunts of our juvenile days, Dogs bark, men suspect, children gaze at the stranger, And brooks seem to murmur disconsolate lays. Where are alley, listen Where are ye, my Friends ! of this dear belov'd Falley ? For you I may listen, and search for in vain,-. You are gone from a land of disorder and folly, Where I still a stranger and pilgrim remain! All glory to Jesus! who suffer'd to sare us, In whose glorious presence we oftens were blest, By the words that ye dropt, and the tokens ye gave us, You've taken your flight to the mansions of rest. 193 ON VISITING FRYUP DURING A GREAT REVIVAL. O FRYUP! far distant thy fame now extends, Kind Heav'n doth thy breaches repair; Thou land of religion, and bibles, and friends, I rejoice to breathe thy pure air. ! Thou land of devotion, and health to the soul, With pleasure I walk o'er thy plains ! Where Christ to the sick hath oft spoken, " Be whole !" Where religion, where righteousness, reigns ! With earnest desire I've long wished to see, The beauties which now I behold; This visit has proved more refreshing to me, Than thousands of silver, or gold ! The day spring of glory hath visited thee, For joy thy inhabitant sings; The bright Sun of Righteousness riseth on thee, And healing's received from his wings ! His influence too, I have felt in my soul, With gratitude now I confess; May all his opposers yield to his control, And sinners be saved by his grace! M 194 ON VISITING FRYUP. As lights in a land long benighted and dark, May thy sons and thy daughters arise ; While faith to a flame fans the Heav'nly spark, And they earnestly press to the skies! May the husband incessantly plead for the wife, The wife for her husband contend; That the favour of God, which is better than life, May on both through the Spirit descend ! May the lover's petition be heard for the fair, And the maiden prevail for the youth; Till all those who for righteousness never did care, Feel the force of Religion and Truth ! May thy ministers, fill'd with the Spirit of God, As giants prevail o'er their foes ; Their word prove more sharp tban a two edged sword In defence of their King and his laws! May thy sinners be saved on every hand, Believers be steadfast and true; With sorrow, once more, I now quit thy fair land, Old Fryup! and bid thee adieu ! 195 POETICAL REFLECTIONS. COMPOSED DURING A VISIT FROM THE WEST. ONCE more, my, muse, resume thy wonted seat, And ask permission of the wise and great, To admit, as tribute due, thy warbling song, In thy own land, and in thy mother tongue. Once more the happy region I behold, Where I have oft experienced joys untold ; Where cattle graze, and crystal fountains flow, And rivers glide, and healthy breezes blow. Here my enraptur'd fancy playful roves, And walks 'mong flowery banks, or shady groves, Or nimbly climbs the rugged mountain's height, And views yon plains with ever new delight. 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. CP 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. 196 POETICAL REFLECTIONS. O yes, the cottage once again I see, Which oft has proved 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 lightening 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 ! POETICAL REFLECTIONS, 197 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 ! T11 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 flame Of 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. 198 POETICAL REFLECTIONS. 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 sufferd, bled, and died ! WOOPAR 101Y Be not deceiv'd, ye all must stoop as low As 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 wiſe, The benefits of a religious life. Ostill 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; Olet not sin for ever them deceive, But spare them breath to pray, repent, and live ! POETICAL REFLECTIONS. 199 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 enrollid Among 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! 200 THORNTON, NEAR PICKERING, AT TOMBSTONE WORK, Thou Thornton art queen of the villages near, Forgive me in dropping a line for thy sake, Thy glories would shine more resplendently clear If watchmen and flock were more widely awake! Thou’rt favour’d with scenery splendid and fair, Or sunshine, or moonlight, illumine thy fane, With wholesomest waters and healthiest air, And life for those victims the serpent has slain ! Thou, Thornton, hast beauties and blessings in store, Thine might be the suburbs of tranquil and peace, If the men in the tavern would cease their uproar, And yon dogs in the kennel their howling would cease! So rank and in order thy cedars arise, Where nature and art are so grandly display'd, While they wave their devotions aloft to the skies, In winter a shelter, in summer a shade ! THORNTON. 201 Trees ancient and healthy like sentinels stand On the branches the feather-plum'd choristers sing, While they rear up their heads, so majestic and grand, They shelter the cottages under their wing ! Yes, Thornton has music and melodies too, Excelling the bugle, the drum, or the horn, A crystal river glides gently through, And talks of salvation at even and morn! 17 And, Ellerburn, thou where our fathers have toil'd, Have gaz'd on thy beauties of wood, land, and stream, Where winters have glisten’d, and summers have smil'd, - But their lives, like others, have gone like a dream! That steeple, they've view'd it again and again, Antiquity's years with their mosses have skinn'd, Their eyes bright with life, may have gazed on that fane Which ancient and rusty, now grates in the wind ! Their limbs, strong and healthy, could ramble those hills, And share such indulgence as reason might crave; The shops echo'd back the applause of the mills, Whose workmen have long gone to dust in the grave! 2 M 202 THORNTON. Be hush'd then our passions, and think it not strange, Our God will take care of the wise and the good, Tho' we stand amazed at the rush, and the change Of those years that have gone, with the years of the flood! Like a child, or a stranger, just on the decline, I range thy sweet borders all dripping with dew, * The fate or the fortune at present is mine To just gaze on thy beauties, and bid them adieu! May I, and may you, then exert all our powers To rid us of evil, and fill us with good !- To improve them in passing, or soon those bright hours Will be gone, and roll'd up with the years of the flood ! * It was a misty morning, I could not paint my stone, so I thought I would try to paint the place, 203 THOUGHTS ON GOOD FRIDAY: Occasioned by seeing two " Sinkers" dragged out of a Coal Pit; one of them killed, the other dreadfully wounded. At a short distance, a busy crowd were preparing their tents and posts for the approaching races, on Easter Monday and Tuesday. On mentioning the fatal occurrence, and naming the day, a bystander exclaimed, “O, Good Friday is nought !" THE morning sun shone dim, as if in pain, To see that day by man so soon despised. The feather'd choirs did heedless man reprove, Who had more cause than they, with early song To greet the morn, on which their Saviour bled. Alas! that man should e'er forget his love ! Down, down the pit, the cheerful sinkers went, Nor grief, nor fear through all the gloom appear'd ; Though at the bottom deep, grim death sat shrounded In horrid features, measuring their minutes ! Foul was the air, and bad ;-they saw him not, Nor dream'd he was so near, nor held dispute, On which the lot might fall, to be his victim :- When suddenly, through wanton carelessness, Or the just judgment of an angry God, The kibble kick'd, brim full of splinter'd rock ! Down fell at once his ponderous instrument, Full thirty fathom, whizzing as it went! 204 THOUGHTS ON GOOD FRIDAY. Beneath its heavy crash a victim fell, And groan'd, nor ceas'd, till he had groan'd his last. Then from behind the scene the monster stept, And with his bony fingers hurl'd his dart : Its point another touch’d, but not so deep. Forth from the pit I saw the sufferers dragg'd, I heard deep groans, and saw their mangled flesh, The former then with grief was quick interr’d, The other a poor halting cripple lives. Where's not the man that said “ Good Friday's nought?" With accidents like this, God's swift judgments, I could, if 'twere requested, fill these sheets ; But to the man who thinks, and judges right, This may suffice. And is Good Friday nought? Is that day nought on which our Saviour bled, To buy our pardon, to save by suff’ring! Open salvation's fount for crimson crimes, And wash, and make us guilty lepers clean? Alas, for man! He sees, he feels it not! Of old, men saw, and felt it, though far off. The martyrs saw, own'd, and observ'd it too, In fasting, prayer, and self-denial ; This made them march, when call’d, with holy joy, To meet the dagger's point, or burning stake. The earth once felt, and felt to her foundations ; The marble mountain felt, and quak'd and shiver'd; The sun felt, and grew dark; the heavens wept, And hell beneath, in dismal groanings howl'd! The serpent felt,--and still feels in his bruis'd head. The Saviour!«Yes, the King of Glory felt, In that sad cup his subjects should have drunk :- Both in the temple, and the wilderness, The street, the judgment hall, --in Pilate's scourge, In cruel mockings, and the scarlet robe ! THOUGHTS ON GOOD FRIDAY. 205 He felt it too beneath the rugged wood, When He, fatigued, climb'd Calvary's steep brow! He felt it in the hammer and the nails That pierc'd his flesh, though he offended not! He felt it in the reed, and crown of thorns ! He felt it in the hyssop, vinegar, and gall, In strange upbraidings, and the soldier's spear! He felt it in that mighty crush, which should, And would have crush’d, his guiity murderers. He felt it till his mortal part expir'd ! He feels it yet, and so do his disciples : But the proud stiff-neck'd sinner feels it not;- Perverse, he will not, yet one day he shall ! Though he at present feast and garnish out His wife's or children's birth days, and his own, With songs, and cards, and music, and the dance, Yet this, like Job's day, shall be blotted out! Though he will not, yet he shall regard it, When God appears in majesty, and power, Arm'd with thunder-bolts, and chariots of fire, On all his foes to pour his vengeance! Yes! All men then will wish to be his friends. E'en those who have his words and grace despis’d, Will wish their lives were to begin again ! “ Whither, 0, whither shall the guilty flee, When consternation turns the good man pale?” 206 CAUTION FROM LIMBER HILL. 'Twas a bit gone December, As I well remember, I met with a rubber, and got some advice; What harbour to rest in, What friend to put trust in, And how we may walk with slape shoes upon ice ! In coming down Limber, Among the young timber, My foot slipp'd, and falling, it was a take in, The night being darkish, And we a bit larkish, Instead of a broom bush, I grasped a whin ! When my fingers were bleeding, And pain was succeeding, It set me a thinking, -of that you'll not doubt;- And but for the blunder, Which lessen'd the wonder, I else had been punished enough to sing out! I quickly did study, What things upon earth to compare with this whin ; After walking around 'em, I very soon found 'em To be a false friend, or the pleasures of sin! CAUTION FROM LIMBER HILL. 207 A true friend is precious, His favour's delicious, In conflicts distressing, You'll find him a blessing, He'll mark your oppressions, and call them his own! But a false friend will vary, And vow quite contrary, His heart to your grief will be hard as a stone; In sorrow or sickness, He'll pity your weakness, But only plant under your pillow a thorn! He'll answer you winking, He'll “ Master," and "Sim" you, and come at your call; But give him a pincher, You'll find him a flincher, Instead of a lift, he'll fling you a fall! So sin is deceiving, Bewitching, bereaving; 'Twill pierce through the heart, and invite you to sing; 'Twill put on fair faces, To woo your embraces, But after you've grasp'd it, there follows a sting! 208 TO A SQUIRREL IN A CAGE. LITTLE spinner, blithe and gay, Dancing thus thy life away! A King his palace might resign, For a couch as soft as thine ! Thou canst choose, as suits thee best, When to toil, and when to rest : Free from earthly care and strife, Merrily doth pass thy life. Ere the day begins to dawn, Thou art at thy work alone; By the early riser seen, Turning round thy light machine. Quick thou tip'st the slender wires, Which more art than strength requires ;- Be the weather foul or fair, Heart and foot as light as air ! Joyful in thy little jail, Thou dost spread thy bushy tail:- Playing many a curious prank, Tumbling like a mountebank ! When awful thunders o'er thee break, And earth's foundations seem to shake, Free from terror and dismay, Thou heed'st it not, but spin'st away. A SQUIRREL IN A CAGE. 209 Separated now for good From thy cronies of the wood, Thou no more dost wander free, Skipping light from tree to tree. Though once with thee things better went, Thou seemest happy and content, If some kind friend supply thy lack, By giving thee a nut to crack. And when thou hast it in thy paw, In face of either friend or foe, The beamings of thine eye impart The motions of a grateful heart. Alone, confined within thy cage, Thou fearest not the battle's rage; Of courage bold, and action brave, Though in prison—thou’rt not a slave ! If life is spared, some other day, When I shall chance to come this way, A present unto thee I'll bring, Thou bonny little woodland thing! Little spinner, blithe and gay, Dancing thus thy life away! A Queen her palace might resign, For a pillow soft as thine! 210 A SINNER SAVED BY GRACE. COME, fellow sinner, lend an ear, And listen while I now declare What God hath done for me ; His word hath broke my stony heart, My soul hath felt the piercing smart, Of guilt and misery! Long time I went about distrest, Nor day nor night could I find rest, Till I his voice did hear, Till I beheld him on the Cross ;- My soul did then her burden lose, And all its slavish fear! To Him who did my foes control, I look'd, and He hath heal'd my soul, And all my sins forgiven : Hence may I turn my feeble sight, To yonder realms of peace and light, And live and die for Heaven ! Oh hasten, sinners, to be wise ; While Jesu's mercy loudly cries, Do you salvation take; But if you're stubborn to the last, Then be assured you will be cast Into the burning lake! A SINNER SAVED BY GRACE. 211 Say you, 6. Where shall we find the Lord, According to his Holy Word, To heal our wounded mind? While some say here, and others there, We long to see the temple, where We may salvation find! S Wherever two or three are met, Whose faces Zion-ward are set, He's promis'd there to be ; O seek the Lord without delay, And cry for mercy night and day, Till you're from sin set free! When you by grace are born again, Then publish to the sons of men That you this path have trod; That others may for mercy cry, And saints may lift their voices high, And glorify their God! 212 TO A WITHERED FLOWER. WITHERING flower, upbraid me not! Why cast on me that look so pale ? Why dost thou my attention court, To listen to thy mournful tale ? Why bow thy head? Why bend thy neck ? Why look so drooping, wan, and cold ? To give my careless thoughts a check, And tell me I am getting old ! Fading Flower, upbraid me not! Still nodding with the gentle breeze, Or dost thou think I have forgot I too am wasting by degrees? For scarce I can believe my sight, Who lately saw thee fresh and gay ; That beauty could so early blight, Or such fresh colours fade away! Drooping Flower, upbraid me not! But turn to Sol's enlivening ray: I in some climate, cold or hot, Must also sicken and decay ? Nay! why dost thou shake off thy leaf, And show thy heart, so fair and clean? But mine to smite with inward grief, - To feel the many plagues within ! Weeping Flower, upbraid me still! For half the conquest thou hast gained, WITHERED FLOWER. 213 Yes! listen to thy tale I will, Until its meaning be explained. Fair emblem thou of human life ; In thee its changing tints are seen; Our visits here, so frail and brief, Is painted in those tints of thine ! When in thy bud so rich and gay, Thou did’st escape the spoiler's hand That would have reft thy charms away, 'Twas pity check'd—and let thee stand ! While cherish'd by the blushing fair, And waving on thy hardy stem, Thy fragrance rich, perfum'd the air- Thou’rt blasted now to me and them! Unlike to thee, whose task is done, When Man shall quit this vale of tears, After this life's short glass is run, Man shall exist in nobler spheres ! All earthly glories fade away, So transient and so insecure.; With us, alas ! how short's their stay ! Prefigured by a dying flower! Yet we have cause to bless the day, If weary of a life mispent, By this thy exit, any may Be led to ponder, and repent. Thou transient teller of the truth, May be who bids, and thunders roll, Forgive the follies of my youth, And stamp thy lesson my on soul! 214 LINES IN MEMORY OF THE REV. D. DUCK, CURATE OF DANBY. YES! Daniel, faithful Daniel's gone, His weeping flock lament their loss; No more they fix their eyes upon That zealous Preacher of the Cross ! No more he meets them at the gate, No breezes waft his silver'd hair, While o'er the dead, both small and great, His soul breathes out the ardent prayer! Nor from his eye, when grave-scenes call, His streaming tears are seen to flow,- Those tears which to the earth did fall, And mingle with the dust below. No more he at the altar stands, To bless, or break the hallow'd bread, While from his lips and lifted hands Each hungry, holy, soul is fed ! But mingled happy saints among, His ravished soul doth now ascend, To share that bliss, which he so long To others here did recommend. 215 THE LUCKY DREEAM, OR, AN AWD THING RENEWED. Yah Kesenmas neeght, or then aboot, When meeasons all were frozen oot, Ah went te see a coontry frind, An hospitable hoor te spind. For gains ah cut across o't moor, Whoor t snaw seea furiously did stour: The hoose ah geean'd an enter'd in, An' wor as welcome as a king. The storm ageean twinder patter'd, An' hailsteeans doon ť chimler clatter'd, All hands wur in, an' seeam'd content, An' neean did frost or snaw lament. T'lasses all wur at ther sowing, Ther cheeks wi' health an' beauty glowing. Aroond the heearth in cheerful chat Twea 'r three frindly neeabours sat; Ther travels telling, -whare they'd been, An' what they hed beeath beeard an' seen; Till yan us all did mitch amuse, An' thus a stoory introduce. “Ah ricollict lang sin," sez he, “A stoory that wur tell'd te me, 'At seeams seea strange i’ this oor day, That true or false ah cannut say. a 216 THE LUCKY DREAM. A man liv'd in this neyburhood, Neea doot ov reputation gud, An' lang tahme strahvd wi' stiddy care, Te keep his hooshod i' repair. At length he hed a curious dreeam, For three neeghts runnin't wur the seeam ; 'At if on Lunnon Brigg he stud, He'd heear sum news wad deea him gud. He labour'd hard beeath neeght an' day, Tryin te draave thooase thowghts away, Yet daily grew mare discontent, Till he at last te Lunnon went! Being quite a stranger te that toon, Lang taame he wander'd up an' doon, Till led by sum mysterious hand, On Lunnon Brigg he teeak his stand; An' theer he waited day by day, An' just wur boon te cum away, Seea much he thowght he wur te bleeam, Te gang seea far aboot a dreeam, When thus a man, as he drew neear, Did say, “good friend, what seek you here, Where I have seen you soon and late?' His dreeam te him he did relate. • Dreams, sez the man,' are empty things, Mere thoughts that flit on silver'd wings; Unheeded we should let them pass: I've had a dream, and thus it was; That somewhere round this peopled ball, There's such a place as Lealholm Hall;- Yet whether such a place there be, Or not, is all unknown to me, There in a cellar, dark and deep, Where slimy creatures nightly creep, And human footsteps never tread, There is a store of treasure hid. THERE IS A GOD. 217 Some lucky wight will find it out: Yet so or not, is nought to me, For I shall ne'er go there to see !! The man did slyly twice or thrice, The cockney thenk for his advice, Then heeame ageean wi’oot delay, He cheerfully did tak his way; An' set aboot the wark an' sped, Fund ivvery thing as t' man had sed ; Wur ivver efter seeni te flourish, T' finest gentleman i all the parish. Fooaks wonder'd sare, an' weel they meeghts Whare he gat all his ginnes breeght ! If it wur true, iv spite ov feeame, Te him it wor a lucky dreeam." THERE IS A GOD. WRITTEN IN ANSWER TO SOME INFIDELS. « The fool hath said in his heart, there is no God."- Psalm xiy, I. THERE is a God who rules above ! And man's the object of His love! And Jesus, His beloved Son Hath bled and died, to make this known. 218 THERE IS A GOD. Though man his attributes deny, And utter daring blasphemy, He shall be conquer'd from above, By Justice, Judgment, or by Love. Though he be lusty now, and strong, And bold in ribaldry and song, A time will come when he must flit, And to a stronger arm submit. Then Death will disregard his groans, And time will melt his giant bones, If no contrition he shall feel, His sins will sink him into hell. While there he drinks the bitter cup, The dust shall lick his marrow up; His tongue within the grave shall rot, While name and memory are forgot. On that dread morn when all shall rise, The righteous whom he did despise, Shall over him dominion have, And all the terrors of the grave. 219 THE BEES THE Sun throws his ray on the lake, The vessels are scudding along ; Before half the city's awake, The air is all action and song! The Bees haste away to the moors, And eager their task to complete, Extract from the bells of the flowers, Their delicate essences sweet. All cheerful they hurry along, Their storehouse of food to increase, Till Death put an end to their song, The citizen's table to grace. Though few can their weapons withstand, Or few can their forces defeat, Yet Death with a torch at command, Soon makes the wing'd armies retreat. At once their anxiety drops, In the grave they lie silent and still, While strangers are draining the cups, They made such exertions to fill. O may I be bold as the Bee, In a work of similar cast, So faithful, industrious, and free, And labour and sing to the last! 220 CONFIRMATION. THE stars recede, the morn appears, So long anticipated! The air which now the spirit cheers, With shouts is agitated! The rustics full of mirth and glee, Are big with expectation, Of what they are to hear and see, When they're at Confirmation ! The road is filled from side to side, With bonny lads and lasses, With country bloom, and village pride, Gigs, horses, mules, and asses! With whip and spur, they dash along, As though to fair or races ; With artificial feathers hung, And veils before their faces ! But few know what they're going to do, Or they are strangely lied on; They're careless of the solemn vow, As is the steed they ride on ! They go, because their neighbours go, Without consideration ; CONFIRMATION. 221 And think all pass for Christians, who Are pass'd at Confirmation! A few there are, but few we fear, Their faith by works expressing; And oft in private on their knees, They wrestle for a blessing. The greater part of them by far, Will carry a Cain's offering ; They're strangers to the Morning Star, To royal David's offspring ! A hope they have, but cannot tell On what that hope is grounded ;- Thus like some old Egyptian spell, It cannot be expounded ! The carnal mind still bears the sway, For want of resolution ; And scatter'd tribes, still day by day, Profane the institution! In spite of lectures orthodox, Of Bishops, prayers, and caution, They, greedy as the thirsty ox, Drink in the deadly potion! The scribes may write with mournful pen, The Church's lamentation ; While year by year they seek in vain, The fruits of Confirmation! 222 ON THE DEATH OF JANE WOOD, OF FRYUP. MOST OF WHICH WAS COMPOSED ON HER WAKE NIGHT. AWAKE, my midnight muse, and catch the flame, Which staggers neither at reproach nor fame; Improve those solemn moments as they fly; Hark! something says, “ think! what it is to die." Struck by affliction, see a victim lies ! And bids adieu to all beneath the skies; Snatch'd from the arms of those she lov'd most dear, No more in prayer and praise her voice we hear. Fill with religious awe, and solemn dread, My heart, while I survey the silent dead ! Sink deep-ye ghostly warnings in my soul, And all unruly passions there control. She dies,--the lov'd, and much lamented Jane, But only dies, we hope, to live again; Which greatly ought to soothe her parent's grief, And to their troubled souls afford relief. But some to this will no attention give, Though dead already, yet they think they live ;- DEATH OF JANE WOOD. 223 Yet none but those who die in Christ on earth Can 'scape the regions of the second death. The fairest flowers the weeping mother seeks, To ornament her dearest daughter's cheeks; Where healthful colours glow'd the other day, Now pale and lifeless, and as cold as clay. Another flower is wither'd in its bloom, Where health had promis'd many years to come; Which makes the aged bosom deeply sigh, And fills with tears many a sparkling eye. She's fled !-but yet not without hope, we mourn, Nor hesitate much whither she is gone; In hopes that she's through Christ for ever blest, My worthless tears must flow among the rest. Full twenty-one eventful years she'd seen, And “known the Lord," 'ere since but fourteen ; Ah, blessed date ! see mercy here unfold, And Jesus stamps His seal upon her soul. In youth, she learnt the lessons of her God, Which greatly sweeten'd His afflicting rod; And arm'd with fortitude her pious mind, While to her Maker's will she all resign’d. The love of Jesus did her soul possess, The depth of which no mortal can express; This prov'd her source of comfort day and night, To dwell upon it was her heart's delight. Oft in God's house we've met with thankful hearts, Where He his blessings still to us imparts ; 224 DEATH OF JANE WOOD. And there with heartfelt joy, or downcast eyes, Have breath'd our feeble offering to the skies. Ah! Jane is gone! her hand we take no more ; Now gone to Him, whose grace we still implore, That we like her may here our lives employ, Then wing our way to yonder realms of joy. A blooming hope is left to those behind, That she, “the Church of the first born," hath join'd; Where hosts of angels strike their harps of gold, Where Zion's king His beauty does unfold :- On which, she's with the rest allow'd to gaze, And ever more extol her Saviour's praise :- In white array, a lovely chosen band, To bear Jane home, each lends a trembling hand. With virgin mildness, slow they march along, While stout hearts shiver'd at the funeral song:- Mortality! again the truth foretel ;- Again the sexton tolls the doleful bell. Again with hoary hairs he forms the grave, Which levels all ;-the simple and the brave,- In cold embrace, the lovely damsel weeps, And o'er her grave each tender virgin weeps. Ye that would wish your end to be like her's, Attend to what her dear advice refers ; “Remember, now! before it be too late, In youth your God, and shun the things he hates !". Ah! could the dead address you all once more, Who thus lament, who thus your loss deplore ! DEATH OF JANE WOUD. 225 Methinks the striking language it would be Like His ;-the Man who groan’d on Calvary : - When He her dull, her gloomy brow did climb, And weeping multitudes did follow Him; On turning round, with piercing look," said he, “ Jerusalem's daughters! weep ye not for me But for yourselves, and for your children !" “Ah, friends! weep not for me, but for your sin.” Now, since we know not who the next must die, Each of us ought to say, “Lord, is it I?” Am I prepar'd to meet Thee in the skies? For I shall fall, and sink no more to rise! Have I repented ? am I born again? Or I, a guilty rebel, still remain ! If such, where thou art I must never come, If death thus seize me, Hell must be my doom ! Have I been wash'd from sin's polluted stain ? Of all the rest, my case the worst must be, Should I be launch'd into Eternity ! O Thou that weighs the matters of the heart! To me, to all, Thy light and truth impart : May each frail child of man their folly see, Weep and believe, and give their hearts to Thee! 226 JANE WOOD'S FAREWELL. FAREWELL my dear parents, my brethren, and friends, Whose souls are entwin'd with my own; Adieu for the present, my spirit ascends, Where friendship immortal is known. Adieu thou sweet fountain that visits the door, In thy channel so nicely convey'd, While those trees which in summer have formed a bower, Thy coolness completed the shade. Those wonderful orbs that astonish'd mine eyes, Their glories recede from my sight; I soon shall contemplate more beautiful skies, And stars more transcendently bright. Your final farewell I may sing; Where the thrush and the blackbird have sung in my sight, And welcom'd each morning in spring. Adieu to thee, Fryup! and all thy sweet charms, My footsteps no longer ye greet; JANE WOOD'S FAREWELL. 227 Jesus to receive me opens His arms, And Paradise welcomes my feet. The vale of affliction with trembling I pass, But the light of the gospel o'ershadows my path, And shews me the danger beneath. The Shepherd of Israel my guardian is ! Through dangers and darkness obscure; His rod and His staff does the enemy chase, While I drink of the river so pure. Adieu to all pleasure, for pleasures divine, I rejoice in the happy exchange; The pleasures of Heaven through Jesus is mine, While o'er the bright summit I range. 228 THE STON É. COMPOSED TO GRATIFY A SCOTTISH RHYMER, AND BROTHER MASON. A STONE!-and what about a stone? What sense is there in that? I answer, in itself there's none : But hold, I'll tell you what! Oft while in craggy woods I've been, All silent, and alone, A thousand beauties I have seen, Conceal'd within a stone! While passing through life's troubled scenes, O’erwhelm’d with care and grief, A stranger in this wilderness, And needful of relief : Not wishful then to every one, To make my troubles known, The thing most useful in this world, I've gained it by a stone ! Some boast of riches, and estates, Of chariots, and of steeds, Of ships that sail by wind or steam, And some of mighty deeds : But all the treasure I desire, In cities, or alone, Is peace of conscience, health of mind, And hewing at a stonc ! A STONE. 229 Our kings and nobles, dukes and lords, Whose splendid castles rise, Whose palaces, and lofty towers, Reach almost to the skies ; Of Greece and Corinth make their boast, Yet are oblig'd to own, Some honour due, from first to last, To those who hew the stone ! In every town, in modern days, Some system new prevails, Men deviate from former ways, The mason's art now fails : Yet masons will be masons still, And will each other own, And smile at all attempts of skill To imitate a stone ! The work will stand, and not disgrace, The master-builder's plan, Defying rain, and tempests fierce, For twice the age of man ! With all their compositions curl'd, And round their columns thrown, The grandest temple in the world, We read was built of stone ! When this fair earth at first arose, And man was made upright, Him, the great God of heaven chose, And view'd him with delight. Had he thus stood, ('tis thought by some,) And in God's image shone, It never would have been our doom To hew and polish stone. 230 T STONE. But man soon fell, by mortal sin, And since the deed is done, And we its captives long have beeny Th' effect we cannot shun: Yet though man from perfection fell, And sin did make him groan, The Lord in Zion laid for him, “A sure foundation stone !" When men began to multiply, And sin defil'd the heart, The Lord look'd down with pitying eyes With man he could not part. The sun by day, and moon by night, And twinkling stars that shone, He made them all rejoice, and sing, Of “ Christ the Corner Stone!” Whoe'er upon this stone shall fall, Shall surely broken be, Yet he may still be heal'd again, And be froin sin set free: But he on whom this stone shall fall, Shall see the Almighty's frown; He shall be crushed as powder small, By this stupendous stone! Moses, that mighty man of God, Who Israel's flock did lead, Whose feet the path of duty trod, And oft for them did plead, In conversation with the Lord, His face with glory shone, And from awful Sinai bore The “ Tables made of Stone !" But, lo, revolting Israel's seed, In Horeb, as we're told, A STONE. 23 1. Had during Moses' absence made, A calf of molten gold; Such folly made his griev'd heart ache, With pangs till then unknown, And down he threw at once, and brake The “ Tables made of Stone!” Though ours be not such flagrant sins, But lie perhaps conceald, The day is coming when all things Now hid shall be reveal'd : And some we have great cause to fear, If they the truth would own, Have little gods which they revere Of gold, or precious stone. 'When once through Israel's armies brave, The boasting challenge ran, When great Goliah sent to Saul To find him out a man, Who would in single combat fight, Till one should be o'erthrown, How little did he think that day Of falling by a stone! With steps that made the earth to bend, He boasting shook his greaves of brass, And Israel's God defieil. From Jesse's loins a stripling sprung, Who made the monster groan, When from the whirling sling he threw The feeble,-fatal stone! Proud armies have been overthrown, And cities sack'd within, And towers and temples broken down, The sad cffccts of sin - 232 A STONE. And once an Angel did foreshow, The fall of Babylon, When in the heaving deep he threw A great and mighty stone ! When David's highly favour'd son, His temple first began, They from the mountains brought a stone, Which seem'd a pest to man : The masons view'd it o'er and o'er, But oft with haughty scorn, Rejected it, and roll'd aside This strange, unshapely stone! From first to last it tumbling lay, An object of disdain, Till time, upon a certain day, The mystery did explain. The last, and loftiest pinnacle, To finish and adorn They sought, but none would do so well As this rejected stone! A finer building ne'er was seen, By any mortal eye, The timbrels rung, and Israel sung, And old men wept for joy. And having thus their temple rear'd, Themselves are forc'd to own, That which the builders once refus'd Is now the Corner Stone! 'Tis thus Jehovah's favour'd sons, With hearts by grace refin'd, Are all compar'd to living stones, For nobler ends design'd. A STONE. 233 Thus he the mighty structure rears, And perfects them in one, A glorious church,--and JESUS is The chief, the Corner Stone ! A stone by Daniel was perceiv’d, And still the record stands, Which from the mountains should proceed, Cut out as without hands; Whose dignity should greater grow, And mighty Kings dethrone, Till all the earth be fill'd below, With this amazing stone! So “in due time God sent his Son," According to His word, Whose sacred mission was begun, And seal'd with precious blood; Who, while He dwelt on earth below, Did make salvation known, And caus'd His heavenly love to flow In hearts once hard as stone! But Pharisees and cruel Jews, Did seek from day to day, This holy person to abuse, To persecute and slay. But God did give his Angels charge O’er his anointed one, Lest he at any time should dash His foot against a stone! At length his faithfulness to prove, He for the world must die, And power was given to wicked men The Lord to crucify. 234 A STONE. The sun was dark at that event, And with His dying groan, Earth trembled ! and the rocks were rent, The rocks of solid stone ! His enemies still follow'd Him When he lay in the grave Hewn in the rock, for Joseph's tomb, Who did his body crave : Lest He their projects should destroy, And they be overthrown, They shut him in, and set a guard, And seal'd the mighty stone! But Roman bands could not confine The Saviour to his cell, He manifests his power divine, In spite of Earth and Hell : The Father "owns his suffering Son," Nor leaves Him then alone, For lo ! “ an Angel comes by night, And rolls away the stone !" He rises to men's wond'ring view, And triumphs o'er His foes, And proves the blessed record true, Though sin and death oppose : In glorious majesty He reigns, On his exalted throne, And still He power on earth retains, To soften hearts of stone ! To those who overcome through Him, A stone, and a new name He gives, which none can read but they, Nor understand the same. SABBATH MORNING MUSINGS. And they shall share His joys divine, Seated on glittering thrones, And walk those streets whose pavements shine Like gold, or precious stones! SABBATH MORNING MUSINGS. “I was glad when they said unto me, Let us go into the house of the Lord."'--Psalm cxxii. 1. How do I love thy courts, O Lord ! What glories they unfold: The joys they do to me afford, More precious are than gold! The very gates through which I pass, Are beautiful to me! What numbers here beneath the grass, In silent slumbers lie ! While I approach this solemn ground, My thoughts I will control ;- The tolling bell, with mournful sound, Affects my inmost soul ! While musing o'er the silent dead, What wonders do I see! The very dust on which I tread, Once liv’d, and mov'd like me! 236 SABBATH MORNING MUSINGS. Here things mysterious I perceive, Things which I can't explain ; Wak'd by that voice which Heav'n shall give, This dust shall “ rise again !" Then some to everlasting life, Exultingly shall rise ; While some to everlasting death, Shall go with weeping eyes ! Such as we sow, that shall we reap; The sowing time is now:- O may I watch, and faithful keep My station at the plough! O what's this world with all its joys, But a delusive dream; The dead, as speaking witnesses, All testify the same. They preach in lectures loud and plain, Though silent, cold, and deep; , They tell me, if the earth remain, I soon like them shall sleep! They cry to all, “ Repent, believe, And you shall pardon'd be; Unless that blessing you receive, You're lost eternally!” The dial, faithful to its task, The sun in yonder sky, Both show to us without a mask, How swift the moments fly! “Redeem thy time !" they seem to say, " Thy life is but a span; SABBATH MORNING MUSINAS. 237 For what are three score years and ten ? And that's the age of man!” Here on a level all are laid, Here none the conquest have! The robes that once the rich array'd, Are tarnish'd by the grave ! The cheek which blossom'd like the rose, Has lost its lovely charms; That beauteous form the lover chose. Is clasp'd in Death's cold arms. All earthly hopes, and earthly joys, And prospects must decay ;- But they who serve their God aright, Shall live in endless day! How wondrously the scene is chang'd ! How lovely they appear! I view them in their state arrang’d, With more delight than fear! Ah! once the scene was not so fair, I scarce could read a stone ! But grace can conquer slavish fear,- With joy I look thereon ! The opening grave oft spoil'd the hinge, On which my fancy play'd; The skulls and bones would make me cringe, While I their forms survey'd. Chill horror used to haunt my breast, While sin therein remain'd ;- But Jesu's name be ever blest, I hare his favour gaind ! 20 238 SABBATH MORNING MUSINGS. 'Tis faith perfumes destruction's breath, Our Jesu's strong to save ; 'Tis faith removes the sting of death, How oft have I in giddy maze, This sacred passage trod ! Not thinking 'twas so pure a place, Much less the house of God! t His mercy doth preserve me still, He doth not always chide; But waits, that all His love may feel, Since he for all hath died. Behind some lofty pillar here, And tread His courts with humble fear, And low before him kneel. With fearful, trembling, broken heart, To him I lift mine eyes; And wait till He his love impart, And conscience bid me rise ! Then will I praise Thee, O my God, When in my heart it glows! And gladly wait to hear thy Word, And catch it as its flows! Then may I keep thy sabbaths pure, And still thy house attend ; Until that sabbath shall commence, Which never hath an end ! 239 TO A BIRD SINGING IN WINTER. Why, why, little bird, so cheerfully sing, When all things around look so sad ? The prospect at present, as touching the spring, Gives cause to be sorry, not glad! Had April appear'd in loveliest hue, And made the green meadows look gay, Thou merrily might'st have mounted thy bough, And warbled thy minutes away. But summer's far off, and still in the copse, The cold winter's snow doth descend, Fierce winds, and sharp frosts, may yet blast thy hopes, And bring thy sweet song to an end. By craft of the boys, in bush, or in wood, Thy foot may be caught in a snare, And thou, whilst seeking a morsel of food, Be a captive, ere thou art aware. Why merrily sing, when thou hast no barn, In which to lay up thy grain ? Why warble thy notes, while unthankful man, So often is heard to complain? Why cheerfully sing when there are no flowers, Or sun in the valley to shine ? 'Tis proof that thy prospects are brighter than ours, Thy heart more contented than mine! 240 THE PLAY! On being solicited to attend a Theatre, by two young women, who urged their entreaties by the argument, “ There is no harm in attending the Play !” Ye daughters of Albion's flourishing isle, Come listen awhile to my lay; Defending your morals, you say with a smile, - There's no harm in attending the Play!” Ye Theatre gallants, and deep witted men, Whose counsels so many obey, Come lend a poor ignorant rustic a pen, And he'll help you to plead for the Play! If you are not immortal, but end when you die, As some have the courage to say, Why need you look out for a mansion on high, You've nothing to fear from the Play! If you are immortal, yet free from the fall, And never have wander'd astray; If you have no sin to repent of at all, You've nothing to fear from the Play! If Christ in His word has left no command, For people to watch and to pray, If an house cannot fall that is built on the sand, “ There's no harm in attending the Play!” THE PLAY. 24 Not calling in question your baptismal vow, If life's like a long summer's day, And you have not to reap such fruit as ye sow, - There's no harm in attending the Play!” If the Christian's creed from the truth be reverse, And the fair crown of life can decay; If the Bible be false, and Religion a farce, 66 There's no harm in attending the Play!" Should a visit from Death come and put you in mind Of your frail habitation of clay, You may try to obstruct the unwelcome design, With the transient delights of the Play! If a faithful reproof you should happen to meet, You can soon turn your faces away, And pass by the blind and the lame in the street, And carry your cash to the Play! But if Parsons themselves so often attend, Then surely their followers may; And no wonder that they so well can defend The moral effects of the Play. If Wesley and Whitfield have pleaded in vain, And led their disciples astray; Let Simpson and Hervey in silence remain, You've nothing to fear from the Play. If you of your time have to give no account, At the last, the great Judgment day, The troubles of life you may quickly surmount, By clapping them off at the Play. If safe 'midst seduction and ruin you roam, You may laugh at the stoppers away, 242 AN AFFLICTED FEMALE. Who sit pining and pulling long faces at home, And are missing the joys of the Play. Should the roof be crush'd in, and you killed, we'll suppose, . Why some angel would bear you away To some distant region of milder repose, Where your spirit might dream of the Play. Having no tribulation, no robe washed in blood, Nor tears that need wiping away, You might sing in those realms to the praise of your God, How oft you had been at the Play. LINES TO AN AFFLICTED FEMALE WHO HAD LOST FATEER AND MOTHER IN THE CHOLERA. CHILD of affliction! wipe that trembling tear Which round thy clear blue eye-ball is revolving: What though thou hast a friend or parent dear, Deep in the dust; to ashes fast dissolving! Thou hast a friend who wept, and loves them still, Oppose not then, but strive for to obey his will. AN AFFLICTED FEMALE. 243 Cease then belov'd! to murmer and repine, Though nature's chords I know are strong ard binding, For what their fate is now, may soon be thine ! Let this thy soul be constantly reminding :- This friend can take away affliction's dart, And fill with joy and gladness this thy throbbing heart! To whom thou ought to make thy supplication, Who groan'd, and bled, and died on Calvary, To crown thee with the joys of his salvation ! Then fly to him and make no more to do, Bow to his cross and yokemin meek submis- sion bow. The dead no more can of thy griefs partake, Quit then all hopes and conversation carnal, Confess thy sin, to Righteousness awake, And grasp by Faith in Christ, the prize Eternal ! Then shalt thou rise, afflicted thus and tried, Like gold that's in the furnace seven-times purified ! 244 ENGLAND FOR NOVELTY. MEANING THE CLUBS IN GENERAL. Of all the regions worthy of applause, Ours is the clime for systems, creeds, and laws; While some of them, much sterling doth contain, Others are as erroneus and vain. Some seek, in spite of persecution's flood, Mesiah's Glory, and the public good; Others indeed, so much resemble Paine, A man would think poor Tom had rose again! A system has been lately set on foot Which multitudes has into office put, So suitable to many in this land, As though 't had been by some archangel plann'd. Such was the Devil once, as we've been tell’d, But was thrown out, for principles he held; That power he yet engages to deceive All those that won't the Truth in Christ believe. But whether he be in this scheme or no, It meets approval of both high and low; And men jump at it, with as much delight As fishes leaping on a summer's night. There is good in't, if you take pains to look, And with that good the Devil baits his hook ; To imitate his kingdom, doth compel A Fishermen, or ought, to people Hell ! 245 CRAZEY EMMY, OR THE CARNAL PARTY'S LAMENT. Young Jemmy, they say, has gone crazy, Those preachers have driven him mad; He once was as fair as a daisy, A blythe and a merry young lad. But now his demeanour is chang'd From that of the other young men, Much more like a person derang'd, He wanders the grove or the glen. Young Jemmy lov'd music and dancing, But now he loves singing and prayer ; While he was to manhood advancing, His presence was frequently there. He always was kind and true hearted, His cronies were witty and gay, And if that he had not deserted, He'd still been the dash of the day. Young Jemmy lov'd sherry and brandy, And in it he took a delight, His dress was the tip of the dandy, Which threaten'd to ruin him quite. But now he's as plain as a quaker, For religion an advocate strong, Of grog he won't be a partaker, Nor sing us a tavern song, 246 CRAZEY JEN JI Y. Young Jemmy lov'd Mary McʻKenzy, He lov'd her as dear as his life, And while she to virtue was friendly, He purpos’d to make her his wife. But rivals she would not oppose 'em, So he says by the flame in his bosom, He ne'er will court her again. The neighbouring lads are reminded, That Jemmy will ves them no more, He now has the object resign'd, Which once had the key of his store. And Mary may seek a fresh lover, Until she awake from her dream, Or dally with Harry the rover, Till caught like a fish in a stream. Once love's flowery arts he was teaching, But now he's forgotten his skill; They say, the last week he was preaching, At Robinson's down at the Mill. He spoke of a present salvation, To all who would yield and consent, But nothing but Hell and damnation, To all such as do not repent, 247 THE PORTION OF THE JUST. How blessed a thing Hallelujah to sing, When time shall with us be no more :- At the Judge's right hand all the faithful shall stand, His goodness to see and adore ! In that heavenly place, in the light of his face, They in mansions of glory shall dwell; No more the big tear on their face shall appear, For to sorrow they've bid a Farewell ! V Above and below rich clusters do grow, Of the grapes of that Canaan so pure; His welcome so sweet makes the banquet complete, And they sing of his mercy secure ! Death vanquish'd, they sing, and spoil'd of his sting, Of Hell conquer'd by Christ from above; On the plains of delight with thousands in white, They shall walk and converse of his love! But the wicked, alas, when their sentence shall pass, Shall at once into darkness be driven, Fierce pains to endure with spirits impure, Who were hurl'd from their places in heaven ! Oh, if thou dost crave above all things to have A seat with thy Saviour divine, No longer delay, nor rest night nor day, Till a scriptural title is thine ! 248 ON THE DEATH OF JOHN MORLEY. “ HEARD you that groan? 'Twas from a dying man! A man just gone into Eternity !” . 66 Redeem thy time! Thy life is but a span !". That language, -Hark! It speaks to you and 65 A man of health, and strength, and spirits gay, The solemn call seem'd distant to his view; But, lo, how soon the victim's snatch'd away By death's rude hand, and bids the world adieu ! Fearless of danger, he, twelve days before, Went to the field to share the common lot, With the sharp scythe to cut the grass or flower, But, ah, the secret lesson he forgot! 56 All flesh is grass, or like the flowery field, So soon 'tis faded, wither'd, or cut down ; To time's embrace its charms are forc'd to yield, The winds pass over it, and it is gone !" When heated by the sun's meridian ray, And parch'd with thirst, to drink he felt inclin’d, Dropping his scythe, poor Morley took his way, In hopes some cool, refreshing stream to find ! DEATH OF JOHN MORLEY. 249 To yonder river to receive his death, With sweat, like dewdrops, hanging on his brow, He haste--nor thinks he must resign his breath, And to the lonely church-yard shortly go! Thus bathed in sweat the river's bank he gains, And drinks, and washes in the crystal flood; When lo! an icy coldness chills his veins, Affects his senses, and inflames his blood ! He medical assistance quickly sought, Excessive pain depriv'd his eyes of sleep ; Physicians soon their powerful medicines brought, But ah! the fatal dart bad pierc'd too deep! The fever rages, not a limb is free, It mocks the power of remedies applied ; Friends weep, and wish for his recovery; Alas! their warmest wishes are denied. His fate seems hard, but yet Heav'n sees it fit, And Heaven's will is best, we must agree; Sooner or later we must all submit To Death's loud call,—to nature's stern decree! All hope soon vanishes of life below; With hasty step the monster Death proceeds, Lifts his fell dart, and strikes the fatal blow ! His wife distracted doth her loss deplore, His children weep as though their hearts would break ; They shrieking cry, “Our father is no more ! O where shall we our lonely refuge seek ? 250 DEATH OF JOHN MORLEY. Where shall we find so true, so kind a friend ? Where shall we find a sharer in our grief? Where shall we find a Father to attend, To wipe our tears, or point us to relief?”' O haste! 0 haste! the house of prayer attend, And plead your cause, bow'd at your Saviour's feet; And there a Friend and Father you shall meet! Poor Morley's dead! the startled village cries ! His wife, a widow, has in tears to grieve! While he, outstretched, now pale and silent lies, Nor tongue, nor eye, nor hand a motion give! No more his whistle echo's through the grove, Nor clashing gates pursue his loaded steed; No more he through the fields doth rove, To play the flute, or blow the rustic reed ! No more the rolling flood's at his control, Nor willing servant runs when he shall bid; But mournfully I hear the death bell toll, To hail him welcome to his lonely bed! But oh, the soul! That ever during spark, Kindled in him by the Almighty's breath, Still lives, though we her passage cannot mark !-- She lives, though she hath pass’d the vale of death! Where has she fled? What is her portion now, While I upon his death thus meditate ? 'Tis mystery this we mortals must not know,--- And cries, “ Prepare ye, for a future state !" FRIENDLY FRAUD. 251 Her portions that for which she was prepar'd ;--- Though suddenly remov'd from earth below, No more can she reject her just reward, She-shares eternal happiness, or woe! To trace her flight might but insult her King, Since he for guilty sinners once did bleed - The muse in silence drops her feeble wing, Refusing any further to proceed ! T Miri FRIENDLY FRAUD; OR LENT MONEY LOST. I LITTLE thought when I was brought With one to labour through the day, Who spoke so fair, and took such care, That eer he thus would me betray! I wonder he'd so little love Much more am I struck with surprize, That he so ungenteel could prove, With sudden death before his eyes! I pity more than he, my loss, This his poor low and filthy gain, 252 Which only leaves me less in purse, But on his precious soul a stain ! He's not robb'd me, by treacherously Diminishing my little store ; If health, and life, and limbs are spared, Next year I shall have plenty more ! But that which should, and likely would, Have gone the cottage rent to pay, (And made the widows heart to sing For Joy !) he basely took away! I did intend, when frosts set in, To cross the wolds, and see my friends, But clothes and shoes are bare and thin, And he more close hath clipp'd my wings! Nor tender wife to load with woe; Yet I've a mother sunk in years, And she more weight of want must know ! My father died when I was young, And left myself and sisters three; Her harp was on the willows hung And oft continues so to be! Long may she look, long may she mourn, With heavy heart and tearful eye, To see her only son return Her winter wants for to supply ! Alas! I fear he has forgot, (May she not now with sorrow say,) FRIENDLY FRAUD. 253 He has in her poor lonely cot A mother weeping far away! No songster of the feather'd race Sits warbling on his flowery bough; But winter with his frosty face Hangs on yon sullen mountain brow! His sun has set behind a cloud And cold the feather'd snows descend; And cold's that heart where pity glow'd On which I thought I could depend ! o cruel fate! O cruel foe! What ever must thy feelings be? To pierce the widow's heart with woe, And not to shed a tear with me! But heaven will her cry attend, Her loss shall double be restor'd; The widow and the orphan's friend Is ever faithful to his word ! Yes, help will come to those who pray And shun the ways of wicked men; So help to Damiel found its way Tho' shut up in a Lion's den! 25_ THE REMOTE CHRISTIAN. DEEP in a glen, remote and wild, And far from affluence, A cottage stood, and heaven smil'd Upon that residence. A couple lived there many years, In love and unity; Who careful in this vale of tears, Had reared a family. No costly goods their cot adorn, No shining liveries wait; For them no huntsman sounds his horn, No carriage at the gate. A simple, honest peasant, free, Not with much learning stored ; Though thus remote, yet happily Had sought and found the Lord. Where neither moth nor rust can harm, Nor thieves can ne'er invade, Beyond the reach of human arm, Was his heart's treasure laid. Around his farm, or in his field, The moor birds hatched and fed ; And when at work, the lapwing cried And futtered o'er his head, REMOTE CHRISTIAN. 255 While thus his little field he drain'd, Or tempered the wild sod, His household, too, with care were train'ch, To love and fear their God. ST The field, the garden, and the tree, For him their produce bore; His table too the bee supplied, From her delicious store. The Lord who thus his substance blest, Did all his wants supply; And pleasantly to quench his thirst, A brook ran murmuring by. I saw him on his dying bed, When strength began to fail ; I saw him lift his languid head, And heard his happy tale. He then began to bless the day, His sins had been made known, When he began to weep and pray, And looked to Christ alone. He blessed that Book his heart had cheered, And tried its worth to tell; He bless'd that Blood which once was shed, To save his soul from Hell. Yes! Christ to him was precious then, His company was sweet; He said His love was in his heart, The world beneath his feet. 10 STRANG1: EFFUSION. This, when the monster Death arrived, Did solid comfort bring; That blood he felt had quite deprived The monster of his sting. “ This body changed, shall soon,” said he, “ With saints and angels join, And sing to all eternity, The depths of Love Divine !" A STRANGE EFFUSION, WESLEYANISM AT EAS BY, IN THE STOKESLEY CIRCUIT. Written when the Methodists were deprived of the Place of Worship in which they had been accustomed to meet. THEY'RE wakken'd at Easby, the Lord is amang 'em, Thof turned oot o't'temple 'at used te belang 'em, Anoother we whooap afoore lang 'll be beelt, Whoor sinners thruff Christ may hev pardon for guilt. T' Lord seems te oppen a way oot afoore 'em, Thof neybourin' lions hev aimed te devoor 'em. When t' awd maister mariner failed at the helm, They thowght it wad all the consarn owerwhelm; A STRANGE EFFUSION. 257 An' when they appear'd ov all succour bereft, They endeeavoured te freeghten † few ’at wur left. Bud the Lord wur detarmin'd te be ther protection, Te send 'em suppoort, an' gie 'em direction ; If nobbut, like monny, they wadden't betray him, Bud stick te that text, beeath te luv an' obey him. They can't be content wi' ther steeple opinions, Bud they mun mack inrooads on other's dominiong; Thof theers be in gen’ral the fat an' the wealthy, For t want o' gud physic, they seldom are healthy. Hoo strange 'at they sud sike fair temples erect, Te murder the sowls in-they're swoorn te protect ! Bud stranger they'll finnd it o' yon side the flud, Wi' ther hands an' ther garments all stain'd ither blud, We needn't te wonder they mak sike a fuss, Ther craft is i' danger fra rebels like us :- For God can mak preeachers-hoo fearful the thowght- Fra' coblers, or meeasons, or blacksmiths, or owght O yes! Dr. Pusey may whet his awd grinders, An' put on his captives ther fetters an' blinders ; Ther's poor men iv Easby'at ken his awd sang, An' see the defect ov beeath him an' his gang. He may scare 'em wi' taxes, wi' rates, an' oppression, All thooase whea are oot o' the line o' succession, Thof te prove that he's in't, he's a varry poor chance, Unless he unite wi' the Romans at yance. Then t' Romans wad help him, an' think it all reeght, Te murder Dissenters, an' put oot ther leeght; Te cut 'em i' pieces, te butcher, an' bon 'em, Bud till that's the keease they cannut owerton 'em ! Nur Stowsley, nur Yatton, ther frinds will invite, Nur Skelton, nur Brotton, ther efforts unite ; They'll finnd te ther mortification an' pain, They hey fowght wi' † wind, an' hev labour'd i' vain! CD 238 ODE TO BRITAIN. SHINE, Britain! shine! Thy virtues we commend; Thy light to distant nations shall extend. A city on a hill cannot be hid, Nor can'st thou be, while Heav'n lifts up thy head. Shine, Britain! Shine! O send the Bible forth To each benighted corner of the earth; Till all with joy its richest blessings taste, And share with us the giorious Gospel Feast. O happy people! Highly favour'd Isle ! Which shares the sunshine of Jehovah's smile. The scenes thy sons and daughters have enjoyed, Kings have desired to see, but were denied. We hope the sound of discord soon will cease, And angels sing a univrrsal peace! When barren lands wilh plenty shall abound, And Christ be worshipp'd the wide world around. At thoughts of this, the lonely desert sings, To see His altars throng'd with prostrate Kings; To see great men of honour and renown, Cast off the coronet to wear a crown! Hasten, O Lord, the long-long wished for day, When favoured with thy truth's enlightening ray, Poor Hottentots shall raise the song divine, And savage Turks the heavenly concert join. When blacks and whites, a vast redeemed throng, Shall all unite to swell the mighty song; Worship one God, and hail Him Lord and King, Through the whole world the Saviour's praises sing, 256 THE LODGER IN LIVERPOOL; OR, THE MASON IN WINTER NIPT BY THE FROST, While a card party were enjoying themselves in an adjoining room. WHILE sad I sit, oft musing over Happy days for ever fled; A lonely lodger in a corner, Like some hermit in his shed. All around seems blithe and merry ; My light's dim, and harp's unstrung, While memory turns to yonder valley, On whose flowery banks I've sung. Dirty, ragged, and down-hearted, Far from country, friends, and home; And as far from kindness parted, Doom'd for work the world to roam. While the cheerful game hath flourish’d, Gaily the glad table round; From my eye the tear unnoticed, Oft hath fallen to the ground. 260 THE LODGER IN LIVERPOOL. Now they sing of female beauty, Or the treachery of men, Or of robbers seeking booty, Like the tiger from his den. Lovely forms and handsome faces Serve to gild the gay deceit; Amorous ditties serve for graces, Both before and after meat. 'Tis their's to share life's fleeting joys, Mine to drag the galling chain; But still a hope my spirit buoys, That the sun will shine again. If their pleasures were not carnal, I might long with them to share ; Did they lead to joys eternal, When they laugh, I might despair. But when time makes all surrender, Nor permits the least excuse, Happy they, whom time's avenger Charges not with its abuse. 261 A CALL TO ARMS. TO CHRISTIANS OF ALL DENOMINATIONS. WARRIORS be waken! and gird on yer armour, Both shipman and shopman, beath tradesman and farmer; Like Etna by moonlight the foe may be seen, Who threatens to blow up the whole magazine! So Popery stirs up her slumbering embers, And boasts of her increase in chapels and members, And speaks mitch like making the world to submit, Or furiously driving them down to the pit! The newspapers mitch of their vigour express, And pamphlets speak of their mighty success :- In records to Rome they were pleas'd to enrol, That Steers was all under the Pontiff's control; Though we never heard of but one in that town, Who had taken the bait and swallow'd it down: We sha'nt be mitch troubled that member to loss, The true Church was for her neither better nor worse, We wonder not mitch their great leader should make, In his flaming record sike a mighty mistake; Or box up sea slyly sea horrid a lea, Or sind sike a messenger ower the sea ! C But such are the means that they use to disguise, The mother of Harlots, and refuge of lies; 262 A CALL TO ARMS. Who have made more to do in the case of Miss N- Than the Wesleyans do of an hundred men. Whoever is under the great obligation, To trust to Priests and the mass for salvation, Must, above all others, this doctrine prefer, And stoutly believe that—that Church cannot err ! They dar'n't, for the curse it is privately known, Attend any Ordinance else but their own; To hear any other man preach or dispute, For fear the dread poison their bosoms pollute ! Whoever examines the different pages, And health of the Church in those different ages, And judges with candour, will easily see, There's no Church on earth, more polluted than she. Oye, my beloved ! keep out of her then, Lest ye feel her scourge, and partake of her sin : Our God will appear, though he seem to delay, We see, why they won't come the Gospel to hear, Because the priest holds them in bondage for fear A ray of true sunshine should dart on the mind, They denied, but their hope is, of being restor'd, By subtle and cunning, by fire or sword : There's none in this war can speak plainer than Dan, Who gladly would butcher us all to a man ! Their seeming alliance is but to beguile, Their friendships deceitful, a harlot's their smile : Their gifts and their presents are but to trepan, A city,--a village,-a nation, or man! 263 SANDY AND MORGAN; OR, SCOTLAND AND WALES. . A DIALOGUE. i MORGAN. Weel Sandy, mun, ge us yer hand, lad, and tell his hoo lang it is sin ye were on the bonny blue hills o' Caledonia ! SANDY. Morgan, ah’s reet fane to see ye, mun, and to see ve leak sa weel sin ah wer in the land o'cakes, it's noo aboot twa yeer and a wee bit, as the Scotchman says, be his myles. M. And, hoo was all thare, whon you left, Sandy? S. Wy, the awld men leak varra vanarable, and the awld women are cant and cliver as young lasses. M. Wy, but hoo are the young folk in general ? S. Ea mon, the young folk are monny, an' am be- comin varra serious, there hez na been sick a praspect o' religious prasperity sin the awdest man livan can tell. M. Varra good; it is said, “ When the righteous flourish, the city rejoiceth.” S. Ah, truly man, and a guid jab it is for ought but the taverns, and the fiddlers, and the whisky sellers, for all the way from Dumfriece to Dum- ferlin, it ommeast like annither country; at sumwhot like the Apostles' days, when they had "all things common." 264 SANDY AND MORGAN. M. Good, varra good, and may it be continued : hen ye ivver been in Wales, Sandy? S. O yes, ah been in Wales, Morgan, bud ah didna stap lang there, for friends there are sum what like Christmas day's—that is few and varra cawd. M. Hen ye ivver been, an or seen sick heigh hills as vee hey in Wales, Sandy? S. Heills, mun, Wy, ah bin an a hill sah heigh, Ah cud na put a half-crown between ma hed and the sky; And if ah do me set task but fulfil, Ah kuoops soon to mount wun higher still. M. But what do ye think on this Educational Clause, Sandy ? S. Think an it, why, hi thinks, it wer a plot worse than that o' gunpowder, but it's a guid jab the lads hed ther eyes on the fugle-man. The awld man reckoned to introduce it under the amblem of the Olive branch, significant o' peace I sup- pose ; but the discovery lads say it wur like a fire-brand, intended to consume all our fine plantation, and to blow up the magazines of our Emanuel, that's my opinion. M. It's a good thing to hev those lads wha can ken things a good bit off, and ge us a hint on't, or they'd com in an us like the Philistines upon Sampson, or like that which fell an the Midi- anites, and sat every man's sword against his fellow. Izzent it to be wonder'd at how sea mitch mony is raised for Cook's Circus, steeple chas- ing, &c., &c., and all other trades are stagnated. They say, there was twanty-pounds worth a folks cuddent get seats at Malton tother necght, at Cook's Horsemanship, ah think that's a good text? SANDY AND MORGAN. 265 S S. Wy, mun, ah believe those hosts and tribes all belong to’t beast; and, no doubt, but in them the Scripture is fulfilling. M. Wy, it is said, “ That great is the mystery of Godliness." S. Yes, and we read somewhare of the great mys- tery of Iniquity? M. Well, but wan wad huop that Popery will niver . owerrun the Protestant portion of Great Britain neither, or there will be queer deed if it sud. S. According to Bishup Usher's, Dr. Goodman's, and other prophecies, and the signs o' the tymes, there is far unlikelier things te wakken up the sleepy watchmen, and te knock the dust out o' ther famile Bibles, which monny seum te keep mare for ornement than use ; but they maybe see mare intut value other contents if't invaders begin te mack fires o' em ; but if they shud git the pre-eminence, ther reign ell nobbut be short, end. Which the high and the lofty now try to erect; 'Tis the old rotten Image some thousands adore, Thro' the horns of the Beast, and the cup of the whore, M. Why, there's a great deal o'stickle noo a days aboot this antiquitty, as if the awder a thing wos the better. Noo when a thing gits awd, it in gineral loses its teeth. S. Ah, ther lad, ye ha jist hittent; for jist so it were we our awd granmother, and his Lairdship, - what ist they call im-intended puttin her in a set o' new ans we this National School con- sarn, bud he fell short o' Ivory. 266 SANDY AND MORGAN, M. Ey, mun, wy ah shud think he might a foan in we plenty at the Tower, whare they've Elephant teeth without end. S. Ey, mun, bud then they wasn't te be tipt we steel, and temperd sea as to stand her breath, which is sumtimes as het as fire. M. Ey, there are ye agin, yer hinting at a persecu- tion ah perceive ; de ye think we may expect a bit of a bristle we em then? S. Wy, ah I always tries to perswade folk te prepare for’t warst, and huop for't best, an then they'll be ready for owght. M. A plot, ay lad, an dinna ye think but it wer a plot fra the pit, or somewhere thereabouts ; ah thinks if it diz na taste it smalls an it- O, yes, the Pope, the Devil, and Doctor Pusey, Out of semblance of good to the country, Produced this thing from their dark synod, To strengthen their Blood-stain'd Monarchy. S. O yer hintin at the Martyrs I suppose, and the days of Queen Mary, are ye? M. Yes, yes. But this National School clause there's sike a stickle and stir aboot, ah really dinna ken hoo wan meight ha expected onything else, for the dissenters wer rinning away we all the bairns e iverry toun, big and little, an instillin ther stuff intill em; na wonder the lang robed gintlemen shud be sa frightened other duck's game-and geese-and m-ay-ay-as ye sayam the young generations becamin dissenters, as if t'awd stock wer deed off, they'd hev nought left; na wonder o the outcry of the church in danger! S. Chureh in danger! wy, mun, the true church of God's in na danger; those little bits o' things et SANDY AND MORGAN. 267 men hez heap'd tegither an settin tops on em, they may be e danger, tho' niver se splendid and magnificent-and niver so weel furtified—but the holy Church of God is in ne danger--they meen ther craft. The Church of God in danger ! no such thing, Whose guardian angel is the King of Kings! No, her foundation's strong and cannot fail, Nor hell's wide gates against her e'er prevail ! Alas! whot ar temples when defiled, or doc- trines whon corrupted-less in the sight of God than babby lakin houses, because more ruinous in ther affeects-tack Assyria, Babylon, and Jerusalem, for instance. M. But whot de ye think o'thes clargymen ho say in ther tracts an sarmons that nebody hez ony reight te preeach, baptize, or ge the sacrament bud them, an that no place is fit te minister in bud consecrated bildings? S. All Popery! all Popery! and Popery othe warst kind. The Popery of Spain and Italy carries it own dear colours we't somewhot like whot the Irishman ge the draper: when he wanted a jacket, the draper rather jeering him about his manner of expressing the colour, he struck him on the nose and made the blood fly out, saying, in his own quaint way, “ that's the colour I wants ;' but the Popery we are speaking of, is Popery under a cloak. M. Do you think then, the Church, or whot they call the Church, is vergin back to Popery? S. Wy, in my opinion, as the Yorkshireman sed be his cow e the market, she iz better hoaf gean. M. Weel, but thare is something varra respactable in and aboot the Roman Religion after all, mund 268 SANDY AND MORGAN. ye look at ther hoods, ---cloaks,-crosiers, white robes,-tashels,- belts and beads,-cru- cifixes, &c.; are they not varra ornamental and a great improvement to the human figure ? S. Yes, and ye might have added their pilgrimages, -pennances, — crossings, - washings, - fastings, ---confessions,—and absolution,-and other ad- they can slip him into purgatory and pray him out agean for a shilling or eighteen pence; or if they like, mak merchandise of his soul; buy and sell him like a bullock e Smithfield. M. Weel, bud than, izzent their chapels varra respactable, and monny other hearers Lords and Squires. Yes, their chapels are most splen- did, their altars, censers, pictures,-candle- sticks,—wafers and wax candles,—their brushes and dishes for incence,--are in general, of the most costly material, and display the most ex- quisite and ingenious workmanship. Their Hymns, - Anthems, --Tunes, - and so forth, are of the most rafaired choice, and fra men o' the first rate talent as composers, especially when sung in lattin, they are so full o' majesty? S. Ah yes, mun, dinna ye see, those are the varra things by which the Baest is dazzling the eez and bawitchin the sanses ov hees monny wor- shippers, while he is markin them aff for his sall ? M. O yes, that Baest, clumsy as he is, he has agi- lity and subtilty to imitate either a priest or a monky; and it is most surprrising how he is twisting his flowery garlands round the pillars of the establishment, whaile the world in general is making obesience to his image. S. Ah, mun, it is seid o' this Beast that he should drag one-third part of the stars of Heaven after him, meaning professional Churches I suppose ; SANDY AND MORGAN. 269 and all the world shud wonder after the man- ner of the Beast, and say, who can make war with him! or who shall, or dare attempt to op- pose him! Let what will come it shall always be well with the righteous, the triumph of the wicked is short, but the righteous shall be had in everlasting remembrance! But hold, hark ye, They say the Devil is turned a fisherman fine, And has got a respactable hook to his line; So if his great net sbould happen to fail, The hook if well baited by chance may prevail. M. Wy, but mun, hooz this Doctor Pusey comin on; wy, they say, they hev suspanded him? S. Suspanded him! wy, indeed! hey thay. M. Ey, wy, whotever dus that mean; dus it mean to be hang'd ? S. Wy, no, not quite so bad as that, though to some meinds it is ommest as mortifying. WVy, thev stapt him a prachin for twea year owing te some corrupt doctrines he had introduced, or was intendin to introduce into the Church litergy. M. Wy, if his doctrine was bad, sooner it war stapit the better? S. Doctrine bad, mun; wy, he intended by it to have undone all the Reformers had done for ages, by introducing the Holy Virgin into her former capacity, and that thing aboot which ther hez been sea mitch dispute and Blood, what they call Transubstantiation. M. Tran-sub-stan-ti-a-tion! why, whatever's that, there's nabud some folk can spalt, mitch mare comprahend it? S. Wy, mun, they say it is a power given by Apo- stolical succession, and tradition together, till a Priest to turn a little wee bit wafer made of 270 SANDY AND MORGAN. honey,--oil,--and flour, intil the real body and blood, -flesh,-bone,--soul, and divinity of our blessed Lord and Saviour, and that the people are literally to swallow him after the Priest hez sed a few Lattin words ower it, whot they call consecration. M. Wy the priest as can doo the like o' that must be greater than God himself, as he can make as monny Gods as wafers, and as oft and whon and whare he chuses. Wy the man as can swallow that can swallow conk shells, sike as folk hiz an ther chimney pieces. I mean them biggest ov all we horns an em, wy the man as preaches sik doctrine as that shud be suspanded for life. Wy ye talk aboot swallowing, one would think some folk now a days hez nowther taste nor small, tak an instance, a young man e yan of our villages, fell e love we a lass, or may be she did we him, he was a Roman, and she was a N-O-U-G-H-T-she had been a Mea thody, bud t ruoad waz ower strait for her,-he axpected five pounds for waddin hur and maekin her a Papish, they gat her nearly finished of befoore they wer wad; after the waddin he thought the five pounds wad farnish the hoose, we a clock,-table, -and chairs, but alass it cam aff we five shillins, and hez fit to rue an hees bargin poor fellow; annither awd dry Me- thody fellow gat hankled we a Papish lass (ah hev hees street and number,) and do ye see she 's twisted him like a piece o' wire, he gangs to mass regular, he'll be a star e her crown ah reeckon. It never struck me so forsible how they get ther convarts before. M. But they say that Popery is not the thing they, that is Protestants, represent it, that it is charita ble, harmless, and a friend to all, SANDY AND MORGAN. 271 S. Yes, ah dare sa, wy ye nead nabud send a bit of a note ower the sea to the Tahittean govern- ment, to know whot popery is now and will be whare ivver thare is a chance, we ought to have this caution published. Beware of that monster in raiment of white, It is Satan transform’d to an angel of light, With a liberal hand and countepance free, And voice as melodious as music can be. O bud jist tack a Yorkshire instance, a keind ov coxcombish gent o' this cast were in a house recently whore ther was a Wesleyan Hymn Book laid, much to his annoyance, he watch:d his appertunity, heated the fire-poker, and rin it through the heart o' the book fra yan seide to tither and sat hiz fit an it, intimating that so he wad do we its author or onny on his gang, hed he a chance. M. This is whot they call Catholic Zeal. S. O yes, ah hey heard some queer hints thrown oot aboot thease awd abeys, they say they were all theers, and they will hev them agean, for they had the title deeds, and that antiquity be- langs to them, exclusively. rely on than the Druids--Shepherds—Gardeners, all stick up for that, and Foresters tell us Adam was yan,-a forester. But beware of antiquitys awld mouldy leaven, So sented and fumed as tho' sanctioned by heaven, Tts poisons and stings are not bad to conceal, From eyes rather dim its so much like the real. S. But O'Connell's the lad which will shew some o the big cows of old England, which way the bull runs. He'll let some on em knaw whot popery is whon he gets ther noses on to his 272 SANDY AND MORGAN. awd grinstone, and ther Bairns on to his awd heap o' leez, and that popery itself is mercyfull. M. Ey, an that he'll let them know when he gets that great key fra awd John Bull, hez long been grapplin aboot it. S. Why't awd man's getting rather dotey, and he hez a great burden on his back he'll mebby let him h’it if Dan but show him the siller, realy some all sell ther soul for a shilling. BUT POPERY, MEIND YE, Is whot it was, and is likely to be; We've had a few samples on't ower the sea. That when in ther power, on a sudden they'll tak ye, Then Protestants, what will ye think o' ye sons, To see them be Friars, yer daughters all Nuns ! When the Pope lays his hand on the Church and the people, With little stone crosses near every steeple, In vain will the sleepers then seek for redress, The mighty Invention is sure of success. When once Persecution lights up her old smiddy, For monny are better half Romans already. They'll darken ther dayleet'at thus condescends, And burn all ther Bibles to mack them amends! It hez been discover'd, but oftens too late, An enemy's kisses are full of deceit. Then, warriors, be wakken! there's thousands asleep; The enemy is subtle, and numerous, and deep! Then pray mitch, and think mitch, yer Bibles attend, Which next to its Author, will prove yer best friend; And dinnat be frighten’d, yer master is strang, Just dea as he bids ye--ye'll nut get far wrang, A bowshot may leet in the harness between, If He guide the arrow-JEHOVAH-I mean! 273 Occasioned by the death of a newly married pair, who drowned themselves, after living together three weeks. On Esk's old bank the watery willows weep, Where wife and husband launch'd into the deep;--- And from their cottage sought an early grave, Ah! hapless pair! who can withhold the tear, When he the melancholy place draws near ? The dire event to future times will prove, The short enjoyment of your wedded love ! How apt are earthly prospects to deceive, And leave her disappointed sons to grieve! How oft will trifling things the mind perplex, Where grace doth not her influences mix! The morning shines to church they haste away, And noisy guns proclaim the wedding day; Within three weeks to the dark grave they're borne, To slumber till the Resurrection morn! Around, the neighbours mourn their hapless lot, And weeping children haunt the dreary spot; The rippling wave, raised by the nightly gale, Tells to the Moon her melancholy tale ! 274 THE COUNTRY BLUNDER ! SOME lines which I have lately penned, May prove a caution to a friend; Indeed as such they are intended, And to my friends are recommended. But some, though caution'd night and morn, Will not take heed, howe'er we warn, But still to make their neighbours fun, Will obstinately blunder on. A servant man in Glazedale glen, Did lately shoot a fine pea-hen : Taking her for a pheasant good, Lately stray'd from the neighb'ring wood. But had he studied well the season, He might have found sufficient reason, To have convinc'd him, there and then, 'Twas neither pheasant, cock nor hen ! For is it common thus to see, Where there is neither bush nor tree, A pheasant pick in open day?- Much more upon the King's high way? To view her well he did not fail, Her rosy comb, and fine long tail, And call'd her without more ado, A pheasant,--and a fine one too ! THE COUNTRY BLUNDER. 275 But beast, or bird, it makes no matter, He takes his gun and jingles at her ; And ere that bird his mercy begs, She tumbles down, with broken legs! He then did speedily run out, With pleasure sparkling in his eyes, Thinking he'd got a famous prize! But one whose senses were awake, Did soon point out his sad mistake; His countenance did alter, when He found it was a fine pea-hen! He thought his neighbours then would scoff, And poets soon would take him off ; Too late he wish'd and strove in vain, To bring his hen to life again! Ye poachers all, both young and old, If you don't think my pen too bold ;- Or may I say, kind gentlemen, Take warning by this same pea-hen! Mind well what creatures you abuse; They all were given by God for use :- Lest you should make your neighbours fun, Look well before you point your gun ! Or you by chance may shoot a horse ;- The other's bad, this would be worse : Yet such a thing was lately done, And by a badly managed gun! May prick your legs, or break your shins; 276 TWO HOURS TASK. Yet those who'd buy instruction cheap, Should always “look before they leap !" If still my counsel you disdain, I may hereafter write again ; And should you not mind what you do, I may inform of some of you ! THE TWO HOURS' TASK ! A congratulatory Address to the Lambs, on their appearance in Spring WELCOME, little peaceful strangers, To your fields and pastures green, Fearless of surrounding dangers, While the sun is on you beaming, That you may new strength receive, Sweet new milk is for you streaming, That you may partake and live. Spring, with all her charms, invites you, Now to taste the tender blade; Birds are singing to delight you, Whether in the sun or shade. Nature has with gladness crown'd you, Woodlands echo at your birth, Spread a flowery carpet round you, Bids you walk in freedom forth. TWO HOURS' TASK. myn. But beware of your destroyer, Crafty Reynard stalks the plains, To your shepherd cleave then closer, Or he'll drain your little veins, In your merry evening gambols, Of surrounding foes beware, Also in your distant rambles, See you wander not too far. Fell destruction round you hovers, Therefore caution don't despise, Croaking ravens wait in numbers, To pick out your little eyes. Go not forth without your shepherd, Be not lifted up with pride, For if peaceful you would slumber, You must never leave his side. Till your strength is perfected, Keep within your master's ground, You shall never be neglected, If you thus are faithful found. See yon lamb that now is bleating, Him misfortune calls its own; And mark'd out an early victim, From the flock he strays alone. See the little lonely mourner, Like a bull-rush hangs his head, Seeks a solitary corner, And refuses to be fed. Life to him appears a burden, This his wailings testify; 278 TWO HOURS' TASK. Earth no pleasures can afford him, He will shortly droop and die. Ere he drink the crystal fountain, Ere he dance the flowery plain, Ere he bleat on yonder mountain, He returns to earth again. Emblem of that happy infant, Which was born the other day, But before it knew bereavement, From the earth was call'd away. Call'd to more delightful regions, Ere he learn'd his mother tongue, There to speak a purer language, There to sing a sweeter song. On his Lord to wait attendant, And to sing redeeming love, Seated on a throne resplendent, In a brighter world above. Cheerful lambs around us caper, Woodland songsters hail the morn; But frail man is doom'd to labour, Weep, and sweat, and sigh, and mourn. Yet there is a higher station, Man is born for nobler joys; If he seeks and finds salvation, He shall sing above the skies. Though he be a fallen creature, Subject here to droop and die, The “Lamb of God" can change his nature, And take all his sins away! 279 ON THE FIRST TEXT HEARD SPIRITUALLY: “ My heart is fixed.”—Psalm lvii. 7. By grace divine I sing, “ My heart is fix'd!” . (Fix'd on the Corner Stone in Zion laid :) He spoke, I wept, and heard the blessed text, And all my wavering, wandering thoughts were stay'd. He to me spoke, as with an angel's voice, And all my fears at once like lightning fled ! O how my troubled soul did then rejoice! I was as one new risen from the dead ! Thrice happy bard who wrote such words as these, So applicable to a case like mine; Such music surely never reach'd my ears, Nor words did ever with such lustre shine! Though all who read, may not that beauty see, Nor feel the truths that sin sick hearts console, Yet, 0, it was a blessed text to me, By which the Lord spoke peace unto my soul ! 'Tis mystery all ! 'Tis like the wind that blows ! I hear its sound, as it sweeps through the wood, I feel it come, but know not where it goes - And so is every one that's born of God ! 280 TEXT HEARD SPIRITUALLY. Now I can sing, “ My soul is sick of love !" Of love to God, and every one I see; Nor smiles, nor frowns, my happy soul can move, A friend or stranger is alike to me! But will the Lord such rebels still receive ? Did Jesus die, that one so vile might live? So vile, so full of sin and misery! Yes! he the sinner doth invite to come; For rich, for poor, for all his grace is free ! Fly, sinners, fly to Christ, there yet is room For all who feel their guilt and misery. The King is now my Friend, I cannot doubt, For he His witness doth to me impart; He'll bind the strong man arm’d, and cast him out, And pour the living stream into my heart! O bappy soul, when thus to life restor’d, Let folly end where genuine hope begins ; He finds a heaven, who truly finds the Lord, But he that finds this heaven, must lose his sins! O may I learn to do the thing that's right, My love to God, by true obedience show; And read, and wrestle, strive, rebuke, and fight, And watch, and pray, and to perfection grow! So when my warfare here on earth is past, And Death on me his chilling hand shall lay, God will receive my ransom'd soul at last, To live and reign with Him in endless day! 281 LINES ON LEAVING FRYUP IN SEARCH OF WORK. I'm sorry, Fryup! thee to leave, But thou deniest what I crave, Though I have ask'd with tears! Oft have I drunk at thy pure rills, And labour'd 'mongst thy moorland hills, For many toilsome years ! U 'Twas oft to me a painful task, Thine aid in time of need to ask, So often sought before ; And many times my small demand, Was torn, as with a trembling hand, Reluctant from thy store ! Oft have I rang'd thy verdant woods, Where roses bursting from their buds, . Have struck my wondering eye! And oft have I thy woodbines cropt:- While from my hand the sweet flowers dropt, I've thought, I too must die ! Here, with each morning's early dawn, I lov'd to walk the flowery lawn, To hear thy warblers sing ! Or when at eve their songs were mute, I've sooth'd my fancy with my flute, And made thy woodlands ring? 282 ON LEAVING FRIUP. I've seen thy mountains clad with snow, While shelter'd in the vale below, Midst hospitable friends! For all their kindnesses to me, May Heav'n bless every family, And make them full amends. But trade is now so dull and dead, A man can hardly earn his bread, In winter's frost and snow: So I must take my staff in hand, And travel to some distant land, Till here more plenty grow ! I grieve to leave the Sunday School, Where I with gratitude of soul Have taught with great delight, The youthful, rising sons of men, To steer safe past the gulf of sin, By glorious gospel light. With men of understanding heart, Where I may teach no more :- And blessings gain'd beyond my thought, From Heaven's bounteous store ! As when the sailor points the keel, For ancient Greenland's icy field, So I my course must steer! I need assistance at the helm, Lest life's rough sea should overwhelm My soul,no harbour near ! For quicksands and contrary winds, And enemies as well as friends, I still expect to find : THE RISING SUN. 283 There is a Friend who lives above, He proves both true and kind ! To Him I will address my prayer ; My little bark unto his care With confidence I'll trust! A steady course, O may I steer, And if to Him I prove sincere, TO THE RISING SUN ON A FROSTY HAIL glorious Sun! bright regent of the day! Gladly I welcome thine all cheering ray : 'Midst frost and snow, a visit thus from thee, Sets each numb toe and frozen finger free! Bright emblem of the Majesty on high, Who lives and reigns, the Lord of earth and sky! Before thy face the hailstones melt away, And thy glad light turns darkness into day, Oft moving down the sloping dale I've eyed Thy golden radiance from the mountain side; Have often long'd upon yon hills to be, To catch a comfortable ray from thee. Now chill November's breath is cold and keen, The trees around have lost their lovely green, 284 THE RISING SUN. While horned cattle from the mountains roam, And for their master low, to take them home. The early plough-boy stops to clap his hands, The tender female dances where she stands ; While I, half starv'd, have thought thy coming long, But now I hail thee welcome with a song! 'Tis said in heathen lands they worship thee, When o'er the mountain tops thy light they see : But as thou here no homage dost receive, I to thy Maker all the glory give. His face, like thine, the drooping sinner cheers, Oppress'd with guilt, and overwhelm'd with fears : A ray from thee, O uncreated Sun, Breaks up, and makes long frozen mountains run ! Thou, from thyself, the soul to purify, Dost pour the living water from on high, Which, if it doth within the soul remain, The sinner's heart shall never freeze again! Yes! he who daily drinks of this pure wave, For sensual pleasure shall no relish have, But calm amidst the turbulence of life, Shall dwell for ever free from care and strife. Shine, glorious Sun! thy blessings richly pour, And cheer our fallen world from hour to hour ! With thy glad beams, o visit every vale, Till every starving soul thine influence feel ! 285 TO A HORSE DYING ALONE. Poor, hapless beast, thus left by all below, Amongst the noblest of God's creatures, thou, Once free from pain, Didst trip the plain; But, Oh ! how much thy case is altered now ! Thy groom and master seem to stand aloof! Is it because of thee they've had enough? Is it respect, Or sheer neglect, That of their care thou hast no stronger proof? Perhaps they do not like to hear or see Thy last deep groan, thy dying agony ! The grass upspurned, Thine eye upturned, Bespeak its weight to heedless passers by! That hoarse deep sigh, the sad effect of sin, Proclaims the depth of agony within ! On man and beast, Greatest and least, Grim Death doth feed, and glad his victim win! The blue shade gathers on thy glassy eye, So sternly fix'd upon the evening sky; Once full of light, Through darkest night, It proved its master's guide to home and family! 286 A HORSE DYING ALONE. Thy lovely form, once beauteous to behold, For which thy master parted with his gold; And this, thy dappled hide, Though once its owner's pride, · Now for a thing of nought will soon be sold ! That ear through which the slightest sound inspir'd Vigour, when pressing business oft required ; Already cold as clay, Doth now inactive lay, Nor startles at that gun which now is fired! Thy frolics and thy gambols now are past, Thy last stage is run ;-thou art dying fast : Perhaps 'ere I At home shall be, Thou unattended wilt have breathed thy last! The stall is vacant where thou lov’d'st to be, The curb and saddle now are nought to thee ! The whip and spur, Thou car'st not for, But leav'st to others as thy legacy! While I string up my rhymes to make them chord, And thus thy melancholy fate record, Perhaps near thee, In some old tree, The lonely night bird sings thy funeral ode! MORAL. Some, while their cup is full can laugh at Death, As yon pale star, From him who now its progress witnesseth ! VILLAGE PREACHING. 287 Did men but see how near is his approach, They would with morning sun, or nightly torch, Themselves prepare, And search with care, And strictly watch each avenue and porch ! Nor would they rest, at business or in bed, Till every foe was found, and captive led; Till all the soul, From stains most foul, Was wash’d, or till the contrite tear was shed ! A fountain from the mount of God doth flow, For all who will take time and pains to go, Whose healing stream, Doth freely teem, To wash polluted sinners white as snow! A soul thus wash'd, shall joyful rise again, By Death unscared, and on angelic wing, Shall mount above, To Him whose love . And power deprive the monster of his sting! VILLAGE PREACHING. “ Speak unto us smooth things.”—Isaiah xxx 10. FAR over Cleveland's lofty hills, Water'd by rivulets and rills, A lovely village doth appear, And o’er the trees its chimneys rear. A church there is without a steeple, And several unconverted people ; 288 VILLAGE PREACHING. Though not much pious fruit appear, The people still desire to hear. To chapel oft they go and back, In their old summer beaten track, Where they the Holy Spirit grieve, And pray for what they don't believe. Those preachers they like best to hear, Whose doctrine is not too severe; Who make no push extraordinary, But tell their tale and let them be. CO It happen'd on a certain day, A stranger chanced to stroll that way ;- I'll try to sketch him if I can, Some call him an eccentric man. One whom God's spirit had enlighten'd, Whom his own sins had soundly frightened; Who, when by strong conviction pained, Did pardon seek, which he obtained. He knew he then accepted stood, By faith in the atoning blood; But saw the people's sad condition, And offered them his admonition. A door was open in that place, Where long had been the means of grace ; The means by many long neglected, For fear they there should be detected. A worthy woman there did live, Who her advice did gratis give; Who cared for both fock and fold, Like Deborah in days old. YILLAGE PREACHING. 289 Like her, she long had wish'd to see A glorious gospel victory; And gave a friendly invitation, To hear an extra exhortation. The forms were set, and rostrum fixt, The preacher went and took his text imamo Sinners ! your bleeding Saviour see, He cries, “ Ye will not come to me!" He tried to tell what those shall win, Who come to Christ and leave their sin; How those shall fare in the great day, Who all their lifetime stay away. Having, as he thought, cleared his way, They sang, and then began to pray; He left his elevated station, And went among his congregation. Of the great things he'd dwelt upon, He ask'd them questions, one by one, . And if advice or help was needing, For penitents who then were pleading. They still went on to sing and pray, The good old-fashioned gospel way; And closer press'd the invitation, Until 'twas time for separation. But such unusual proceeding They say completely spoild the meeting ;--- That preacher's conduct is unstable, Who cannot keep behind the table ! Preachers ought not to come so nigh, Into the soul's affairs to pry; 290) VILLAGE PREACHING. For whether they be saved or no, Is more than they've a right to know. Such bold presuming impudence, To some might prove a great offence ;- Going and asking one by one, How they for Heaven are getting on! They say they'll come to preaching still, If she one promise will fulfil ; That is as long as she is able, Will keep the man behind the table. Those hearers now are far too thin, Who like a lusty, loud “ Amen!" And folks have now a taste so fine, A semiquaver breaks the line ! Ye men of God, the truth enforce, You cannot press the thing too close, If you would do the people good, Or clear your conscience of their blood. When your sermon is completed, Then your aid is further needed ; To lift up still your warning voice, Nor leave the people to their choice. Though some, alas, are so precise, And God's rich blessings do despise, Others may need your friendly care, And will your counsel gladly hear. If your advice when managed well, Perchance might save some soul from Hell; Oh think of this,--and if you're able, You may stand still behind the table. RULE OF CONTRARY. If I should go that way once more, And find the people as before, They must have either chain or cable, If they keep me behind the table. THE RULE OF CONTRARY. SOME men have Rules so incorrect, They almost always vary ; And some make Rules to gain respect, But I'm for one contrary! Some strive to gain the smiles of men, But I prefer their frown; The torrent of my pride to stem, And keep ambition down! The praise of men's an empty thing, And crowns and sceptres vain, As parch'd lands look for rain! Some recommend the hearty laugh, But I prefer the tear Which tells me that my heart is soft, My hope of heaven is clear! Some say, “ give me the tavern song !" But I prefer the sigh, Which, though unnoticed by the throng, Yet pierces to the sky! 292 RULE OF CONTRARY. . Some say, “ give me that pleasing look, Which does the fancy win!" But give me one that's plain without, If she be fair within ! Some plead for ornamental dress, The concert and the ball ! Except the Robe of Righteousness, Let me be stript of all! Some love with dealers dark to dwell, And glory in the night; But I would shun the road to Hell; Therefore I love the light! Some love their minds with tales to feed, Of regions yet untrod; When I've a little time to read, Give me the Book of God! Some praise a head of natural wit And worldly wisdom full ; Without the truths of Holy Writ, Give me an empty skull ! The jet, or gold, or ivory cross, By many is admired; But I esteem the blood of Him, Who on the cross expired! My heart with sin as crimson dyed, Would ever so remain ; But if that blood by faith's applied, 'Twill cleanse from every stain ! With some, their fill of pleasure here Is all the good they crave :- Give me a humble, holy fear, A hope beyond the grave ! REFLLOTIONS ON A BACKSLIDER And in her pleasant ways, Under the Nazarene's reproach, I'll live out all my days! Thus, whether sanctioned or despised, Such is my fancy's Rule, In keeping which I shall be wise, Although accounted fool! Let the free thinker take the hint, And with my creed agree ; That all are not compelled to think, Nor speak the same as he ! REFLECTIONS ON A BACKSLIDER. How art thou fallen, thou son of the light! How happy the scenes from which thou art driven! Behold ! if thy soul can dwell on the sight, Where thou didst once walk and hold converse with heaven! Then down turn thine eyes to yon dreary place, See the hideous forms which thy spirit shall chase, Ere long in that fire which thee will surround ! In anguish there thy frighted eyes shall roll, While demons triumph at thy overthrow; With flaming firebrands lash thy naked soul, With burning arrows pierce thee through and through! 294 REFLECTIONS ON A BACKSLIDER. 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; 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 judgment day. 295 THE COUNTRY LOVE FEAST. Held in an old Barn, Farndale, Yorkshire. SING, O my muse, in praise of Zion sing, In praise of those who her glad tidings bring, In praise to Him who left the courts above, To manifest to us his Father's love! Celestial powers, my heart and voice inspire, If such a worm as I can feel your heavenly fire; To such a theme, to such a noble song, Sublimer strains than I can reach belong. Glory to God, whose mercy and free grace, Are not confined to either time or place, To bless, and save the fallen sons of men, To cleanse believers, and to pardon sin. O what an humble, yet exalted place, Where Christians meet the great I AM to praise. A Barn !a Temple !-what a place is this ! Emblem of Heav'n, and type of future bliss ! An earthen floor serves us on which to tread, The roof is covered with the spider's web: To such is man's best righteousness compar'd, By which full many a lofty head's ensnar'd. No crimson pews distinguish rich from poor, No brass inscriptions glitter on the door, No marble monuments adorn the wall, No polish'd altars where men prostrate fall, No tapestry doth hang the pulpit round, No costly vaults are in this temple found, No pealing organ's note delights the ear, But what is better far,--our God is here ! Wherever two or three sincerely meet, Who have towards Zion's city turned their feet, 'Tis there our God himself vouchsafes to be, To bind the strong, and set the prisoner free. The world's applause we cheerfully disdain, And shelter here from company profane. 296 COUNTRY LOVEFEAST. For as we differ, 'tis by Jesu's grace, And 'tis His presence dignifies the place. Before us here the Bread of Life is spread, Behind are stalls where now the ox is fed. Like that in Bethlehem where Jesus lay, This stable now beholds a glorious day! Here Pilgrims meet, their travels to relate, And when, and where they enter'd mercy's gate. They tell us how their eyes with tears did fill, When unbelief was wilful of its will. They tell us how their sins did them oppress, And fill'd their inmost souls with deep distress; And how the Lord their burden did remove, Pardon'd their sins, and fill'd their hearts with love. They all rejoice to see each other's face, To hear each prospers in the work of grace. With one consent their cheerful hearts aspire, And ecstacies of joy their bosoms fire. Such times as these we think too soon are gone, Our happy souls cemented into one! We pray, and part, each to his distant home, And still we cry, “Lord, let thy kingdom come !" Both far and near His kingdom doth extend, Temples are rising, both by sea and land. Calls seamen to engage in praise and prayer. Whole streets, reformed, the great assembly join, Speak with new tongues, and sing in songs divine. Poor trembling sinners wipe their watery eyes, And lamentations pierce the bowing skies ! Blasphemers fall beneath the power of God, And statesmen flock to hear his Holy Word; While some of them a portion find to spare, Waste Zion's walls and bulwarks to repair. See golden prospects round us rise, See the dejected raise their downcast eyes, To Zion's King, and his victorious cause ! 297 THE SWALLOW. On being deprived of her nest by some Sparrows. A SWALLOW one evening was sweeping along, 'Mongst such as against her were spiteful, An impudent Sparrow requested a song, Affirming her voice was delightful ! The innocent Swallow consented, But afterwards sadly repented; For the nest she had been at such pains to erect, She was soon from enjoying prevented ! To the ridge of the barn they hurried along, As fast as their feathers could speed them, Where she tweedled and sung, in her African tongue, Her favorite anthem on Freedom ! . While she was this Sparrow am using, The rest were her labours abusing ;- They had taken possession both of garret and floor, And were in her best chamber carousing ! When the Sparrow beheld by the flood in her eye, How much this bad treatment did grieve her, With contempt in his manner he bade her good bye, Nor pitied, nor tried to relieve her! Still her sweet little song did not alter, Her delicate voice did not falter ; But she tweedled and sung what was next to be done, Reproving the Sparrows she then seem'd to say, “ To you we are surely no strangers ; To pay you this visit, in crossing the sea, O Sparrows! why have you betrayed us? 'Tis cruelty thus to invade us ! We bring Summer with us, take nothing away, O Sparrows! why have you betray'd us? 298 ON THE BUILDING OF GLAZEDALE BRIDGE IN 1828. A RUFF JOB FOR BEEATH MAESTER AN MEN. PART I. WHERE'ER We gang te tack a woak, This brigg is all the common toak; For whether it be leeat or seean, There cry is, “ Harn't ye ommeast deean?" A neighboor sed te Matty Hall, He thought this brigg wad kill us all : But how this prophecee may move, Sean time or providence will prove : But sure t'experimental part, Wad ding a hero out o’ heart, When we reflect on what is past, An' gannin on fra first to last. G. Tinker com when t'job began, But acted like a cunnin man; The hill was ower hard te clim, An' soon the gam was up we him. I Then Pritty com i' th' heat of the thrang, An' promised fair for stoppin lang, But he by chance gat strange and leeam, An' we had him te carry heeam. An' Silverside hes left in debt, An' Johnson's teean away it pet; GLAZEDALE BRIDGE. 299 Fletcher would no langer stay, An' Gibson says he'll run away! Pearson talks ov weary beeans,- He's ommest kill'd with cuttin steans - An' Castillo he's lang been seek, He seldom gets five days i' t'week. An' Crudas cums nobbut now and then, An''s reckoned yan of our heead men ; An' Breckon hes not lang been wiv us, An' reaady ony day te leeave us. Our Maester's had ruff rooad te pass, They've straiten'd him for want ov brass ; An' t'men wad hev their wages rais'd, Aneeaf te set a maester. craz'd. Thus opposition greeat an' small, Had damp'd the spirits ov us all! We fondly thowght our trade wad florrish, Supported by a wealthy parish. But awkward fields, an' narrow riggs, They've spoil'd us quite for bilding briggs : Nur is it common in this nation, Te bild them on a dry foundation. Wiv all ther petty plans an' prices, They teear a workman all te pieces ; An' if they get ther ends about, Our meeason's soon may work for nought. There's yan 'at aims he's i'famus graith, He laughs an' macks a sport o' faith : * * The inscription on the Bridge is, “ Poniler thy path, for genuine faith can build a bridge across the gulph of death." 300 GLAZEDALE BRIDGE. A time may cum wiv visage grim, When he may wish his lamp te trim. Now sike a man shud first be seen, Te get all’t scales teean off his een ; An' try te bild a brigg at yance Across the gulf of ignorance ! Another who desarves a stripe, He's rather rusty in his pipe, He's also had a deeal te say, Bnt scarce a penny will he pay! We hev some condescending men, There may nea doubt be yan i' ten, That ken the legal time o' day, An' help us on without delay. We've yan that lends a helping hand, That did possess beeath house an' land, He's ommest eighty years of age, He brings his meeat an' tacks neeah wage : Wiv furrow'd cheeks an' hooary hairs, He's geen us monny faithful days, He leuks through hardships creak'd an' curl'd, Tiv his reward it’tother world. We hev anuther royal meeason, That dissent put another face on, But freely cums te help us throo, An' brings a lusty prentice too. Had Wallis cum, wiv all his brags, He might hev geean wiv empty bags, Unless the Parish jurisdiction, Had meead it up by a subscription. GLAZEDALE BRIDGE. 301 May we thats left like trew-drawn hosses, Tack up wiv all our rubs and crosses ; For efter all this toil and pain, We hope the sun will shine again! PART IL. THEY tell us oft when we're away, An' chiefly on a Sabbath day, Our brigg is crooded wiv inspectors, That raise aboot it strange conjectures. Some greeat men wiv judishus seearch, Hev spy'd a crack or two i t'arch, An' sends t’alarm fra toon te toon, Sumbod'y rais'd a dreeadful tale, How it hed frighten'd Joseph Dale; He com te see't yah Sabbath day,-- He just leeak'd up an' ran away! He thowght he heeard sum body say, They thowght they seed it givin way! He ran sea fast that nowght cud ton him, For feear this brigg sud fall upon him! It was nea joke, for far aboon, He ommost ran a woman down ; * An' if she ower t’bows had geean, He'd kill'd or leeam'd her ten te yan ! But efter all that's deean and sed, There is neah cashion te be flade ; * Who was reading the inscription, 302 TAL BROKEN SEAL. Whale't present farmers hods their land, There is neah doubt bud brigg ell stand, Bud there is sum unlucky lads, That wants correctin be ther dads ; They might be in sum better pleeace Than thrawin steans at awd man's feeace. THE BROKEN SEAL. To sing of Southcote's clouded fame, My muse presumes and tries to soar; Though some may say, “ blot out her name, Let it be seen or heard no more,” I have a secret to reveal, Effected by a broken Seal! This poor Joanna had her day; While fair and bright the morning shone, She led too many far astray, Whose souls much better things had know; She soon their ancient tribe could tell, And signed their title with a Seal. A poor, illiterate, labouring man, Who went Joanna's voice to hear, A stranger to salvation's plan, Had linger'd on from year to year, He thought she preach'd the gospel real, And he of course must have a seal! of Alluding to the Face on the key-stone of the arch, which had been defaced by boys throwing stones. THÉ BROKEN SEAL. 303 Without a heart transformed and new, Joanna Southcote took him in, And seal'd him her disciple true, Without repenting of his sin :- He slyly from his wife did steal, The price of his mysterious Seal ! Her creed on such conditions hung, That while her seals continued whole, Then hope was bright, and faith was strong, And they could neither fail nor fall; But none could rescue those from hell, When, lo, upon a certain day, Examining his little store, Joanna's passport to survey; His pocket book he rummaged o'er, But consternation turned him pale, His heart was stung with deep dismay, With anguish, and tormenting fears, Which like a trumpet night and day, Did sound this sentence in his ears, - Thou never canst thy crime conceal, Remember thou hast broke thy Seal !” He thought the Almighty from on high, Would soon his red hot lightnings pour, And he, a sinner doomed to die, Might then expect the hottest shower, God would on him his wrath reveal, For he had broke the fatal Seal ! He more than either once or twice, With heavy heart and tearful eye, 304 TRUTH. TRIUMPĦANT. Went to a preacher for advice, Who soon his sickness did descry; By what his conscience seem'd to feel, His heart was broken with his Seal ! The preacher then without delay, Did point him to the sinner's friend, Exhorting him to watch and pray, And on the Son of God depend, Whose efficacious blood could heal His soul, though he had broke his Seal ! One day in agonizing prayer, Believing on the Son of God, On the dark borders of despair, He found redemption in His blood, And from the transport he did feel, He bless'd the day he broke the Seal! TRUTH TRIUMPHANT ! SEE yon flag of crimson dye, Wave along the vaulted sky! See yon flag, &c. To its hem fair Truth is bound, Blood of martys sprinkled round; That earth's multitudes may see, Truth will have the Victory! Victory! Victory! Wicked men in vain oppose, Babes shall sing of Sharon's Rose ! Wicked men, &c. TRUTH TRIUMPHANT. 305 Borne on winds from pole to pole, Like the Prophet's flying roll; Ethiopia soon shall see Truth will have the Victory ! Victory! Victory! Some of earth's dark corners shine, With this heav'nly light divine ! Some of earth's, &c. Africa's dark sons obey, Pagan temples own her sway ;- Own with us, 'tis God's decree, Truth shall have the Victory! Victory! Victory! Turks! who will no mercy shew, Mercy is proclaim'd for you! Turks! who will, &c. Men are ceasing to bow down To their gods of wood and stone ; And all nations soon shall see Truth will have the Victory! Victory! Victory ! Won shaloryVictor Where Truth reigns the work goes on, Christ and Truth are both but one! Where Truth, &c. Saints shall find the promise true, Christ will soon “ make all things new ;" Truth shall have the Victory! Victory! Victory! Put your prowess to the test! Pow'rs of darkness, &c. 306 TRUTH TRIUMPHANT. Persecution fierce employ, Jesu's kingdom to destroy, 'Tis in vain ! 'tis God's decree, Truth shall have the Victory! Victory! Victory! Jews! the Crucified adore, Objects of his wrath no more ! Jews! the Crucified, &c. Own the Galilean King, With your Gentile brethren sing ; Now obey, 'tis God's decree, Truth shall have the Victory Victory! Victory! Hasten, Lord, the glorious day, Let all true believers say ! Hasten, Lord, &c. When these frozen hearts shall thaw, Each with love and wonder glow; All with one accord agree, Truth hath gain'd the Victory! Victory! Victory ! Soon th' Archangel's trump shall sound, Wake the dead from sleep profound ! Soon the, &c. Earth shall melt, the stars shall fall, Men on rocks and mountains call ; Christ will then his saints set free:- What a glorious Victory! Victory! Victory ! 307 EDOM. Isaiah Ixiii. 1. O YE Muses, assist me to sing, Of the things which by faith. I have seen ; Of the love of my Saviour and King, While wandering on earth I have been. That Him I so little have loved, For this I have reason to mourn ; And for talents and time mis-improved, In the days of my youth that are gone. For neglect of the records divine, Which so often did sound in mine ear; My affections they did not incline, I neglected, like others, to hear. Like sheep did we all go astray, And left the fair pastures serene; Did wander from Him far away, Where terror and darkness were seen. There in ambush our enemies lay, As we roam'd o'er those desolate plains ; We became their unfortunate prey, And were bound in affliction and chains. We long in that sad plight did lie, Nor had courage nor strength to look up; Yet we oft cast a languishing eye, 308 EDOM. And there came one from Edom afar, To whom the sad signal we gave; He looked like a champion of war, He was bloody-yet mighty to save ! And as swift to our rescue He came, We related to Him all our grief, He said that heaven heard us complain, And 'twas He that had brought us relief. Who art thou?" then we fearfully said, " Why so red in thy glorious array? Like one who is sorely dismayed, Through the burden and heat of the day?" “ I have come from the Father of lights, That you in His glory may shine ; Whose throne is on high o'er all heights, And the work of redemption is mine. In His courts the great question was ask'd, Who would rescue lost man from the grave? I, my love and omnipotence task’d, That the ruined and lost I might save! Then stern justice demanded his due, And I looked for help but found none; So my life I have laid down for you, And have trodden the wine press alone. 66 Look on me," He said with a smile, “'Twas for you I was bruised as ye see; There was none for this wonderful toil, And the burden fell all upon me!” Then He lifted us up from the ground, And he broke our tyrannical chain ; THE MISER'S AWAY. 309 While his blood streamed afresh from each wound, And whoever it touch'd was made clean! “ The ransom, though mighty, is paid, Therefore open your hearts to receive ; You need be no longer afraid, If you truly repent and believe!” While sweet comfort thus flowed from his tongue, His visage, though marr’d, grew more fair ; With swift wings and angelical song, He ascended on high in the air ! Vh A bright cloud took him out of our sight, And our eyes could behold him no more; He arose to the regions of light, And left us to believe and adore ! THE MISER'S A WAY! THE Miser's away, and he'll never come back, Any more his rusty old guineas to crack; By his niggardly fare of potatoes and fish, His successor enjoys a more plentiful dish. I once had occasion to pass by his door, Whose threshold so seldom was cross'd by the poor, A kitten came out in its innocent play, And pleasantly three-thrummid - The Miser's away !" The way-weary traveller, to shorten the mile, Sometimes has occasion to go by the stile ; 310 THE MISER'S AWAY. 1 The gain that he gets his spirit revives, He cuts off an elbow, and sooner arrives. Through one of his fields the pathway doth lie, And very few 'scap'd the dint of his eye. The gate as it opens and creaks, seems to say, “ Pass stranger, and welcome " -“ The Miser's away!” In his ancient old Intake, long kept without fence, And without cultivation, for fear of expence, By the plough, or the spade, the rough is made plain, And the hopeful young husbandman scatters the grain. Where the bones of the gimmer decay'd on the ground, And nettles and briars were every where found, Fine corn is now growing, all smiling and gay ; It had not been so, bit" The Miser's away!” The birds haste away to the green holly bush, The blackbird now tries to outrival the thrush ; They tip the tall branches on fluttering wing, Make nearer approaches, and merrily sing. The flowers in the garden around the bee-hive, With unwonted freshness begin to revive, To each new beholder their beauties display, And whisper in perfumes The Miser's away!” Here among his old books his Sabbaths he spent, On logic and physic sat making comment;- He thought it would be the best method to use, To save both his carcase, his money, and shoes;— He'd be his own doctor, and preacher likewise, And his old yellow heap, like a mountain would rise ! The riches he heap'd up, by night and by day, Another has found, for « The Miser's away!” S 311 66 TYY 6 WHO HATH BELIEVED OUR REPORT ?" Isaiah liji. 1. 66 Who hath believed our report ?” The agonizing prophet cried ; Where do the wandering tribes resort, For whom the King of Glory died ? His goodness doth before them pass, The fairest of ten thousand. He, Yet sin bewilders, and alas, In Him they can no beauty see. His Kingly presence they deny, · While round their altars they resort, Well might the grieved prophet cry, “ Away with such a one," they cry, “ Let timbrels sound, and damsels sing, This strange impostor crucify, For none but Cæsar is our King!” Slain in the streets the martyrs lie, Who strove His kingdom to support, Well might the trembling prophet cry, “ Who hath believed our report ?" His Ministers to make Him known, Their time, and strength, and souls devote, Yet oft in sorrow cry alone, “ Who hath believed our report?” 312 WHO HATH BELIEVED OUR REPORT, From Him we have our faces hid, We each have turn'd to his own way, And done the things that were forbid. His faithful servants all day long, Do to repentance us exhort, Yet nightly raise the mournful song, “Who hath believed our report?" It was for us He was accused, Sunk under sorrows not His own, Was buffeted, chastis'd, and bruis'd, To raise us rebels to a throne. The nails, the hammer, and the spear, And reed, with which his head was smote, “ Who hath believed our report ? " Yes! both the pulpit and the press, The thunder of His power proclaim, Commend His blood and righteousness, And offer mercy in His name ! Of holy things to make a sport, And weeping preachers yet may cry, os Who hath believed our report?" Some have believed this report, To them He hath “ His arm reveal'd;" To Him their lives they now devote, For "by His stripes their souls are heal'd !" And on the last important day, When all shall be to judgment brought, LEALHOLM BRIDGE. 313 Thrice happy those who then can say, We have believed this report! But woe to all ungodly men, Who wonder how these things can be ; They'll wonder more, and perish then, Too late they will their folly see. For them, alas, no joys remain, The Lord of life will cut them short; And they shall weep and wish in vain, They had believed our report ! LEALHOLM BRIDGE. A SOLILOQUY DURING A VISIT, AFTER SOME YEARS ABSENCE. AH , lovely Lealholm! Where shall I begin, To say what thou art now, and once hast been? Once the dear seat of all my earthly joys, That now, in recollection only, rise! Methinks, where'er I look no life appears, But all the place a cheerless aspect wears ; Thy groves are desolate, thy swains are fled, And many of them numbered with the dead; Religion's cold, the poor are sore oppress'd, Thy orphans weep, and widows are distress'd. O let us pray their griefs may shortly end, And God, their Father, still may prove their friend. This ancient Bridge some faint idea brings, Where still the swallow comes and dips her wings ; The murmuring river, and the rumbling mill, Bear some resemblance to poor Lealholm still; LEALHOLM BRIDGE, Where shades of trees are in its deepness seen, Where leaping fishes on its surface play, And gladly seems to close the summer's day; The broken waters from yon glen resound, Their constant rippling's heard the village round; Yon burden'd iron pinion loudly shrieks, The greedy race, the water still supplies, The lofty wheel's broad shelves successive rise ; The thund'ring engine doth her hands employ, And Hunter's place is fill'd by William Joy; The floating bubble swims upon the wave, While Ord* lies mould'ring in the silent grave ; Behind yon hill the sun escapes from sight, And yields his empire to the shades of night. Alas! Poor Lealholm once in glory shone, But now, she like a widow, sits alone ! Once from yon town the people flock'd like bees, To taste the sweetness of the country breeze; Pedestrians joyful, here and there were seen, While shays and whiskeys deck'd her level green ; The banks of Esk were crowded all along, Either with anglers, or with lookers on. The full “ Moont then did through her vallies shine, So bright, some thought she never would decline ; Year after year she in her sphere did move, And all seem'd animation, life, and love : But now, in mists and gloom she disappears, Eclips'd-her light no longer Lealholm cheers! Pluck'd from her orb, her borrow'd lustre's fled, And in the silent tomb she rests her head. * The Mill was built by Mr. Ord. * Mrs. Moon, landlady of the Public House, who died during the Author's absence. LLALHOLM BRIDGE. 315 In distant lands my father's lot was cast, And we were left to feel the bitter blast. Death's fatal hand its victim did arrest, And tore him from the darlings of his breast. I, by a mother's care, when young was led, Down by the river to yon primrose bed, Where birds so sweetly sung the trees among, I thought those days were happy, bright, and long. Oft I, a boy, with others of my age, Did eager here in youthful sports engage. Oft in yon wood we rov'd when life was new, The rocks, and trees, and rugged caves to view ; Where woodbines wild, with sweets perfum'd the air, And all seem'd joyous, beautiful, and fair. Alas ! where's now the grove? The trees are gone; And many the wide ocean are upon: A few remaining springers yet survive, And keep their owner's name and place alive! Just so it is with us, could we but see, Our fathers who are in eternity. Their offspring live, but they're for ever gone, Their portion's fixed, no more will they returi ! May we be wise, and lessons learn afresh, To trust no longer in an arm of flesh! Begin to seek, and rest not till we find The peace of God, which satisfies the mind. Then seeing all my earthly joys are fled, Where, O my soul ! art thou for succour led 'Tis Jesus that can all thy wants supply, A fountain's there which never will run dry: Such rich perfume, such holy incense yield: 'Tis Jesus' merit, and his dying love, 316 ME AND YOU. ON THE CUTTING OF A STICK OUT OF A YEW TREE. WHEN first my fancy fix'd on you, I saw you in a tree; I looked, I spoke, I pull'd at you, But you said nought to me. You were array'd in lovely green, With blushing youth adorned, With limbs and heart both sound and clean, And hidden beauties scorn'd. I reached to you a friendly hand, But you seemed not to see; By sighs I got to understand You seemed inclined for me, Thought I, but soon I'll bring you down, And sure it was no joke, Since that I've claim'd you as my own, Though not a word you spoke ! When ever I go to take the road, Some distant lard to see, Without an angry look or word You do accompany me. So excellent a partner, then, Who would not highly prize, Whose picture and character is, A friend without disguise ! But when I thus had made my choice, My neighbours cried begum, Strange fancy 'twas to fix on you, That was both deaf and dumb ! 317 STONEGATE GILL. NEAR the end of the wood at the foot of the hill, Is the spring, the plantation, the orchard, and mill; Luxuriant and healthy the primrose appear, The beauties of nature and verdure is there! From the dam is reflected the clouds and the sky, And the surplus water doth run tumbling by ; In whose pure stream on the fine summer's day, Here the honest old Miller* has worn out his clogs, And grinded the barley to fatten the hogs: To distinguish his own and his customer's rights, He chalk'd on the hopper, his measures, and weights, With pieces of millstone the stable is pav'd ; With the heels of the horses the floor is engrav'd; The mill keeps her tickling tackling round, . And the rocks in the valley redouble the sound. The cock in the morning with clarion shrill Wakes up the slumbering vaults of the Gill; His own little province he governs as king, And the hens stand in awe at the scrape of his wing; Should the foe but appear he gives the alarm, Not wishing his subjects to take any harm; So quick in discernment, he levels his eye, And gives him the challenge to shuffle him by. The birds in the branches so cheerfully sing; And here, in the season, the Bees take the wing. While thus thy bright borders, 0 Stonegate! we view, Some fragments we find of antiquity too ! And met on yon moor with their chivalrous band, * An old grinder, not the owner of the Mill, 318 STONEGATE GILL. By yon rude heap of scalls that remain on the scar, It was there where they forged their weapons of war! Here is beauty and taste for the pencil or pen, And for the hero who loves to ramble the glen; Here is matter for those who such matter can use, For the ear or the heart, the sketch-book, or muse! Fresh subjects arise the further we rove, The emblems are there of the grotto or grove : 'Tis here the green ivy twipes round the huge oak, And the wild grass weeps over the edge of the rock! 'Tis here the winged passengers find a retreat, The owl and the hawk have their parliament seat; They call up their members to settle their plans, And expel the old raven that worries the lambs; . Here the ant is found clearing her cumbrous streets, And reynard sometimes his comrade meets! The badger and pitman, each bores in his hole, The one for a strong-hold,—the other for coal! Rocks lay upon rocks in silence so deep, As though some great earthquake had rock'd theni asleep, And time had their fate sealed in signature grey, Never more to awake until the dooms day. 'Tis here, according to village record, The Hermit, Rob Thrush, had his dreary abode. Where the fowler may exercise find for his gun, And the small serpent basks in the rays of the sun. Wild flowers of all colours here mingle and grow, And the wonders of creation doth prolificly flow ; Which pleasure, and pastime, and profit afford, Displaying the power and the wisdom of God! Here, the ancients inform us by way of romance, The Faries kept up their invisible dance. Those things I have noticed as far as I've been, And leave the next comer to finish the scene! 319 A DIALOGUE Between Rosedale Bob and Hartoft John, on a speech delivered L.L.D., at a Bible Meeting, held in the new Church, Rosedale. John.-WHAT cheer, awd stock ? say what's ther beean te doo, 'At macks ye leeak seea dark aboot yer broo? Yoo leeak as thof yer parliament petition Had met wi' sum romantic opposition ! Or mebby yoo hev met wi' sum abuse, Or fra' sum quarter heeard sum heavy news! Perhaps the trial may cum closer still, Yer wife or childer may be takken ill. BOB.-Alas! the news ah hey te tell 's seea bad, The fields an' forests seeam i moorning By men unauthorized an' unordeean'd, Oor new erected Temple is profeean'd! The cushions an' the tassels all are soil'd, The bell's enchanted, an' oor worship’s spoil'd, They've held in it, what's caused this dese- cration, A meeting for ť Baable’s circulation. John.-If that be all, the thing's as leeght as chaff, The fields an' fleeads may clap ther hands an' laff; Sin' better sense is teeaching greeat an' small, Te send this glorious leeght fra' pole te pole. 320 A DIALOGUE. 'Tis yan o' Jesus Christ's last greeat com- mands, Te send this leeght te dark an' heathen lands. Let's whooap the profit ’ll ootweigh the loss; If t parson beean't, t' Church 'll be neea worse! .BOB.-Whah, ah's neea scholar, nowther will per- tend Te say, hoo far this mischief may extend. Oor greeat Divine, afoore he left the pleeace, He tell’d us positive it wur the keease ; Hiz argument did raise te that amoont, The Church wur ruin'd on this seeame ac- coont; When sike like wark the Church's pillars shake, Hiz maister's honner foorc'd him for te speak. JOHN.-Whether Divine, M.A., or L.L.D., 'Tis lahtle matter whea or what he be ; The thing's revealed tiv us as clear as him, What God approves, man owght nut te con. demn. Whate'er may be his sacerdotal geeans, The public, they may thenk him for his peeans ; 'At he seea fine a sample sud dispense Ov college iddicated influence. BoB.--Cud it be heeard, an' understeead on reeght, Daft Hannah's speech be quite as full a' leeght, A DIALOGUE. 3:1 She thinks t'awd man sud nut ha' beean seea vext, Bud tonn'd his leeaf an' teean anuther text. The bad effeets hez beean, she hez neea doot, Wi' brush or beezom swept an' carried oot; They teeak true pains te mack all clean an' clivver, An' t'Church is noo as gud an’ weel as ivver. John.-Bud leeak thoo heer, this is the thing they dreead, If yance ť Baable an' the truth be spreead, The veil 'll fall fra off the people's eyes, A't commons then will as the lords be wise; They then 'll graw so base i' disposition, Te heigher powers they will disdain sub- mission; An' will te men ov honourable name, Refuse that homage which ther titles claim ! Bob.--Then chapels will i' all directions rise, Wi' saucy steeples moonting te the skies ; An' preeachers run, or ride on hoss or gig, As rank as sheep that travel Blaca rig ; If sike proceedings further be alloo'd Awd England's sun 'll set behind a clood; Nur need we wonder they alood procleeam, Thooase men sal speak neea langer i' this JOHN.—A't sike a meetin' sud be held i'ť church, By men 'at scarce wur fit te stand i' t' porch, Wur sike a stain upon its consecration, As roused his reverence's indignation. Bud fra sike bold attempts te be debarr'd? 322 Å DIALOGUE. Nur ivver inare mun they cum theer again, Whahl he his sacred office does sustain ! If sike like doctrines spreead an' sud prevail, Then Bishop's ordination treead 'll fail; Then grace 'll mare than learning be ad- : mired, An' priests stand i' the market place unhir'd: Men will fra' ivvery secret corner creep, Or oot o' coalpits into pulpits leap ; Whabl wi' ther gestures an' insinuations, They 'll rob the churches other congrega- tions. BoB.—Then fooaks 'll ton, like bees 'at's left the hive, Seea stupid as te nowther leead nur drive, Nur draw by gifts, nur binnd doon by op- pression, Nur scar by Apostolical Succession : In vain a man may then hiz feeace disguise, An' landlords ower ther tenants tyrannize. Neea patchwark then 'll answer as afoore, Nur gowns, nur blankets buy or sell the poor. That Parson then by chance may lose hiz pleeace, Whea hunts, or gallops i' the Steeple Chase; Whea i' the ring appears a jovial fellow, Sits by hiz wine or grog till he is mellow; Then wi' hiz dogs pursues the grouse or game Mare than the cottage ov the poor or lame; Or if hiz gun sud chance to miss the mark Te rap an' sweear, an' lie all t'bleeam o'ť clerk. JOHN.-Nur wonder thoo that venerable man, Sud be seea feearful ov hiz treead an' clan; A DIALOGUE. 325 If better leeght be spreead by land an' sea, Oor heeame boond slaves 'll seek for liberty, They ’ll finnd they're neean seea fit te show the way, As thooase 'at walks therein fra' day te day. Bud God himsel has teean the thing i' hand, An' Baable meetings yet sall bless oor land. Oor God 'll raise up men ov noble soul, An' He the sleepy churches will controul : Will send hiz sarvants whea hiz judgments knaw, Te thunner oot the terrors ov His law; Whahl Jesus will hiz meighty airm mack bare, An' tak the flocks himsel into hiz care. BoB.—Sike laws amang oor heigh up chaps exist, As labouring men finnd hard for to resist. O'ť Sabbath days they rob beeath God an' man, That scribe may preeav this statement fause 'at can. All hands mun haste seean as they hear the bell, To ť steeple hoose, let t priest be what he will; An' thooase 'at izzent satisfied wi’ť kirk, Mun owther quit ther farm or loss ther work. JOHN.-Thooase laws mitch differ fra' the laws ov heaven, Fra’ God te man for holy purpose given; Peace te promote, an' put an end te strife, Te regulate hiz hooshod an' hiz life. In holy days, afoore the churches fell, Neea music soonded like the sabbath bell; 324 LAST JOB OF AN OLD TRAMP. The ministers wur thoughtful, holy men, Nur threeats wur needed, nur compulsion then. BoB.-Yan wad be fain sike days again te see, An' hear fooaks sing wi' love an' melody, As yan hez reead iv bukes, ov holy men, 'At nowther cared for fire nur lion's den: Bud dreeaded sin wi' all its scorpion stings, Mare than the wrath of heathen priests and kings. All whea te God in meek submission boo, Thof † way be dark, he'll awlus bring 'em throo. JOHN.-Jist wait a whahl, till taame reverse the scene, An' Anti-Christ hez hed hiz pompous reign; When persecution wi' her torch an' foark, Sets carnal men an' ministers te woark, Te help the Beeast te mack hiz proselytes, Te purge hiz fleear, an' bon the hypocrites : Then thooase wheea live, an' hev the truth maintained, I' clearer leeght'll hev the thing explained. THE LAST JOB OF AN OLD TRAMP; OR, REFLECTIONS ON BURNING A MASON'S MALLET FOR A YULE CLOG, ON CHRISTMAS EVE. O THOU once highly valued piece of wood, By him who best that value understood ; Whose purse so often thou didst help to fill, IAST JOB OF AN OLD TRAMP. 325 TI Whom bed and board, Thou didst afford, Attended by thy train of sharpen'd steel! True to thy task throughout the changing year, Thy fellowship was to thy master dear :- Whether at work, or o'ur his shoulder slung, Or near his side, Thou wast his pride, While with his friend he cheerful sat and sung! 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; 326 A VOICE FROM THE DEAT). Where undismayed, The breezes played, Whose peaceful shade remembrance only bears ? 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 ! A VOICE FROM THE DEAD. Written on being uncivilly treated, when erecting some Tombstones in Church Yard, where the Author was. denied the use of any part of the Church, Porch, or Stable; was forbidden to Letter the Stone in the Church Yard, though. it was more than a mile from the Church to the neartst convenient place for such a work; and was also denied the keys of the gate :- yet, at that very time, the parson's horse and cow were feeding on the grass, tearing up the graves, and breaking down tbe stones, while none dared to complain! On seeing the horse's leg sink into a grave up the lisk, the follow- ing thoughts suggested themselves. WHAT foot is that disturbs my rest? Which through my coffin lid hath prest, And caus'd my bones the air to feel ? It is the parson's horse's heel ! 'Tis hard so much as there's to pay, That corpses cannot quiet lay, But are by cow or horse plough'd up, For priests to reap a three-fold crop ! 327 Through such a process they must pass, The grave, the tombstone, and the grass, And Easter Offering beside :- These claims must never be denied ! What though they do the grass devour, And leave their dung against the door! Pay up-say nought-What's that to thou?' It is the parson's horse or cow! I know the living dare not grumble, Nor at the parson's conduct stumble ! And when the simple truth is told, Of dead men they can get no hold. We thought no hammer was to sound, Upon this consecrated ground, Yet cow or horse may grind our bones, And rub their sides against the stones! Some think things so are constituted, That masons' tools are all polluted, But that the parson's horse or cow, Like th' Church, is consecrated too! Thus they may gallop o'er our graves, And split our coffins into halves; In spite of widows tears and groans, May pastime make of dead folks' bones! This is too hard for flesh and blood! A thing which cannot be withstood; A thing which inward grief imparts "To pious minds and tender hearts. But men enthrall'd must never speak, Ņor for redress attempt to seek, 328 A VOICE FROM THE DEAD. But with such creatures be content, As Bishops have ordain’d and sent. · Like him who dwells upon the coast, Who of the priesthood makes his boast, Regardless what the flock endure, “ If he can but the fleece secure !!! His present residence and living, Are of his earthly father's giving; So none his title dare dispute, For Bishops cannot turn him out! Though life and conduct be profane, He knows that men dare not complain; Or soon he'd show them his degrees, And take revenge in tithes and fees ! Such workmen's labour is in vain To keep their hands from bloody stain ; In vain they strive to show the road That leads to glory and to God! No wonder if such Church decay, If members leave it day by day, Where tyrannising is the law, And till a change, it must be so. The remedy will be unknown, Till Priests are of the Spirit born ; Till they get hearts refin'd and pure, Dissenters must their scorn endure ! 329 MUSINGS DURING AFFLICTION; OR, THE SEARCH AFTER HAPPINESS. 66 He shall fly away as a dream."- Job xx. 8. Not sharing the toils of the day, My spirit doth inwardly groan, At the symptoms I feel of decay. My care burden'd mind can't be still, Though the external fabric be maim'd; Some part must be working the will Of Him who that fabric hath framed. And hopes well to finish the day; So life hath some corners and nooks, It might not be wrong to survey. If the morning of life we behold, When all seems delightful and bright, The rosebud doth scarcely unfold, But 'tis gone as a dream of the night! If to youth our attention we turn, When all is enchanting and free; When very few know how to mourn, And all things seem pleasant and gay, A something we sought in the fields, Alas! as we oft sought in vain ! 2 T 320 MUSINGS IN AFFLICTION, The joys that such scenery yields, Are such as we cannot retain. We sought in the meadows and groves, In the woods, by the rivers and streams ; But all our vain hopes and our loves, Were like wood to the furnace's flames ! The old pathway still puts us in mind, Though its stones are forsaken and green, Of youthful affections, so kind, Though now scarce a vestige is seen! We long have been wandering abroad, And have learn’d to sorrow and weep; While some have been lost on the road, And others have sunk in the deep! In the fire-side circle we sought, But found by the glimmering light, That soon as the shadows we caught, They fled like a dream of the night! There were some whom we knew in the flesh, Seem'd happy, and healthy, and strong; But before they obtain'd their wish, They, alas ! in a moment were gone! 'Twas gloomy and dark at their end, No light in their death did appear ; That happiness would them attend, Was hoped—but hope turn'd to despair ! Alas ! how neglectful they lived, How sad an example they set, How many fair youths were deceiv'd, Who are not yet free from the net! MUSINGS IN AFFLICTION. 331 They surely had time to repent, To weep, and to sorrow, and pray; But time that should thus have been spent, Was wantonly squander'd away. They quick were cut off at a stroke, Were hurried away from our sight; The bonds of their friendship all broke, They fled like a dream of the night. Though long in the grave they have lain, And long since have gone to decay, Remembrance can raise them again, As fresh as they were in life's day. We remember the look of the face, The language that glanc'd from the eye, The cough, or the laugh, or some grace, By which we their forms can descry. How short our acquaintance appears, Our pleasures, how swift was their flight! Refore we could number their years, They fled as a dream of the night! In manhood we sought it abroad, And mix'd with the mirthful and gay, When liberty lengthen'd the cord, And tempted our feet far astray. Then away to the races and fairs, When seasons and friends did invite; To the shows, to the stalls, and their wares, And to music and dancing at night! We sought it by land and by sea,- Where'er we directed our eyes, 332 MUSINGS IN AFFLICTION. All said, “ Pleasure is not in me! My beauty is all a disguise !" O Happiness! where dost thou dwell? O where shall we search with success? From the court to the cottage or cell, All seem the abodes of distress! Oft have we reflected with pain, And fancied while counting the cost, If restor'd to childhood again, We'd recover the thing we had lost. Then happiness seem'd to be ours, We roved by the river or glen; The birds, and the bushes, and flowers, Appear'd as a paradise then ! Yon hill, and the stone on the plain, Remind us whenever we pass, Where we in a fairy-like train, Have scamper'd about on the grass ! Gone by are our childhood and youth, And gone is each transient delight; They told us,—who told us the truth, They'd pass as a dream of the night. By the faithful discourse of a friend, We were told, whether cloudy or bright, This life, long or short, in the end, Would depart as a dream of the night:- That in vain among shadows and flowers, We sought satisfaction within ; True pleasure could never be ours, Till the heart had been broken for sin. MUSINGS IN AFFLICTION. 333 The heart, until such was the case, Was so puff'd up with pride and deceit, That no matter how splendid the feast, That root bitter'd every thing sweet! He would prove by the sacred page, And by men of experience too, It had been so in every age, And continues so, even till now! Until sin was expos'd to the light, In the glass of the Gospel was view'd, We could not enjoy true delight, Till the heart had been chang'd and renew'd, Nor need we now ask any more, Why a thing which so many pursue, And to gain will all things explore, Should be truly possess'd by so few. In all earth's extensive domain, Midst all the sweet breezes that blow, In mountain, or forest, or plain, Where Eden like luxuries grow;- Amid all the fair branches and free, Inviting their clusters to share, One tree, and only one tree, This heav'nly manna will bear. That tree of celestial seed, By heav'nly culture doth rise ;- That man from his sins might be freed; 'Twas sent as a gift from the skies ! But many the tree did deride, And oft of its fruit did complain, 334 MUSINGS IN AFFLICTION. But return'd to their folly again ! They made it a matter of doubt, That it had been planted for them :- Repentance and Faith were the root, And Holiness grew on the stem ! Some as they pass'd by gave a glance, Made remark on the wilderness bare ; And affirm’d, with the eye all askance, No semblance of beauty was there. Though to plant it the Saviour of men Had sorrow'd, and suffer'd, and bled ; And His Spirit pour'd out as a stream, Hath His heav'nly influence shed. You see, when the secret is told, And the riddle's expounded to all, It was planted in Eden of old, But had been torn up by the fall ! So Christ hath in love to His church, Thus rear'd this plant of renown, To screen when the sun's rays might scorch, And to cheer when our spirits are down. Whoe'er of its produce partakes, Whatever objections arise, Through the Cross, and the choice that he makes, Shall be holy, and happy, and wise ! Then we to His temple shall run, And worship with joy and delight; Our trials while under the sun, Will pass as a dream of the night! 335 TO THE MOOR BIRDS IN A STORM. YE birds of the Moor, I doubt you'll be poor, The storm is quite likely to last; The owl and the crow are shelter'd below, But you are expos'd to the blast! My footsteps are feeble and slow, O lend me your wings, ye dear little things, To carry me over the snow ! Nay, I have no gun, so you need not run, Nor cackle, nor spread out your tails; No danger is near, you've nothing to fear, The poacher is down in the dales. · The wind whistles woe, through the valley below, To the birds that are down in the wood ! You may bear by report, that the gun is afloat, To scatter their feathers and blood. If you'll be content, till the storm shall be spent, No doubt but you may, on some future day, Get fat, and escape with your life! But if you encroach, or chance to approach, The web-footed classes domain ; Il' wide you should stray, or fall out by the way, A thousand to one but you're slain ! 336 THE AFRICAN'S CHRISTÍAN EXPERIENCE, At a Lovefeast in the Wesleyan Methodist Chapel, Pitt Street, Liverpool, hy one who heard him. I TANK de grate Etarnal Spirit, For de good tings me doos inherit; Hoo make dat feel to Negro come, Vitch glad de heart more den de rum. I hear de Missionary tell Hoo bad mans all go doon to hell; He say, I be de sinner slave, But Jesus die my soul to save. All me was sick,--all me was sad, And no one ting was make me glad ; Den to de Holy One so high, Me tell, and he do hear my cry. I tank de grate Etarnal King, Was ivver me to Englam bring; Till den a dubble slave I be, Tank Him, me now am dubble free. Among de bush, far ower de sea, Was monny happy Negro be, Hoo better cuntry heb in view, Where me hopes meetin dem an' you! 337 PETCH'S ELEGY. How sbort, how frail is our abode on earth! But yesterday it seems since we sprang forth : Life doth no sooner sparkle in our eye, Than we are subject to decline and die ! A brother Mason now a victim lies To Death, whose icy hand hath closed his eyes ! He sleeps, forgetful of his toil and care ; In prime of life, no more his voice we hear. No more the chisel moves within his hands, The sounding axe no more his skill demands : But silence reigns,--his spirit's gone to rest, His ransom'd soul is number'd with the blest! His sins and follies here he did bemoan, A heavy burden, grievous to be borne; When lo, the Lord, a week before he died, Dispers’d the gloom, and all his wants supplied. In the Redeemer's blood he did believe, And God his pardoning love to him did give : Such depth of mercy fill'd us with surprise, And tears of gratitude flow'd from our eyes. He boldly triumph'd in God's pardoning grace, With love and patience beaming in his face ; Till fainting in the icy arms of death, He praised his God with his departing breath! How oft have we in health, and free from pain, Joyful to labour, cross'd the dewy plain, Before the morning stars had disappear'd, Or early harmony the woodlands cheer'd ! How oft have we been partners through the day, Or sung in hymns our nightly hours away! 338 REFLECTIONS ON PETCH'S TOM.. Alas! my partner's gone! Can I forbear To welcome down my cheek the rolling tear? No more on earth his voice shall mix with mine, In social converse, or in songs divine ! Be it my chief concern to be prepar'd, Like him to die, and meet my just reward. False witnesses did raise a vile report, And laid things to his charge that he knew not: But now he's gone to be with Christ on high, Where he is safe, and may their power defy. Now slander and reproach at once may cease ; No more can they disturb our brother's peace ! Their arrows keen can never pierce his soul, He is departed, and hath reach'd the goal ! Farewell ! but Oh! we hope to meet again, And join our voices in a nobler strain, Where Jesus our great Prophet, Priest, and King, In everlasting majesty doth reign! REFLECTIONS ON PETCH'S TOMB. DEAR Petch belov'd! thy endless portion's fix'd! As death hath left thee, so shall judgment find: Thy spirit, with a world of spirits mix'd, Hath left its mouldering tenement behind ! Sprightly and active, thou the other day, Didst fill thy station in this world of cares ; In life's fair morn, thy soul hath slipt away, From its delusions and a thousand snares! Thy cheeks a more than common bloom did wear Thy voice with music sweetly did agree; Thy heart was lively, thy complexion fair :- Had I chose one for life, I'd chosen thee! REFLECTIONS ON PETCH's TONB. 339 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 survey The 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 heav'n 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; 3-10 TAE THUNDER STORM. He view'd Heaven's portals through the gloon around, And shouted “ Victory!" in the arms of death! Go, blooming youth, and share the rich reward, 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 heav'n! 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! THE THUNDER STORM. The praise be thine, Almighty, matchless King, Whose care and power my musc presumes to sing Whose tender care protects, while thousands sleep, The wakeful sea-boy on the mighty deep. Which in a moment fill the world with dread; Thou, while thy lightnings flash, and thunders roll, Dost whisper secret peace into his soul ! The praise be thine, whose interposing power, Protected us across yon lonely moor, And through that night of terror and alarm, Mysteriously preserv'd us from all harm! That night of awful peril we record, Ascribing all the glory to the Lord ; TEE THUNDER STORM. 341 When from yon distant meeting we return'd, And pious friends at home our absence mourn’d! The moon and stars at once withdrew their light, And thus increas'd the horrors of the night, Loud claps of thunder shook the sons of pride, And female courage was severely tried ! The time pass'd on in conversation sweet, While flaming lightning flash'd around our feet, Yet by the flash, in each believer's face We read the sign of confidence and peace ! Some to our God did then devoutly pray, While others sung that awful hour away; A voice was heard, “ Ye need not be afraid, Whose hope is on the Rock of Ages stay'd!” Our virgins trimm'd their lamps, and sweetly sung, And tenderly around each other clung, While, as through fire and flood they took their way, Salvation was the burden of their lay! 'Midst dismal darkness the black clouds were driven, With all the fearful majesty of heaven; And then, as if an angel cleft the cloud, And show'd to man the glowing wrath of God, More quick than either thought, or sight of man, From north to south the flaming fluid ran; The east and west burst into a blaze, And guilty man beheld it with amaze! It seem'd to warn the world against that day, When earth and sky shall melt, and pass away! The distant mountains seem'd to own his nod, And cried to man, “ Prepare to meet thy God!” All glory be to our eternal King, Who brought us all safe home His praise to sing. May we both hear and keep his Holy Word, And so fulfil the royal law of God! THE SERVANT'S ADDRESS TO HIS MASTER, ON DERIJING HIM FOR BECOMING A METHODIST. MASTER, I beg you'll pardon, while I speak, The liberty I now presume to take; And trust the brief apology you'll hear, Will please, if you will please to lend an ear. 6 Wilt thou forsake the Church?” did you not say? " And strive to get to Heaven some nearer way? A better way perhaps by you believ'd, But 'twill be well if you are not deceiv'd !" Deceiv'd or not, we are resolv'd to go; If Christ is with us, all is well we know ! He is our Leader, He marks out the way, Inviting all to come, and none to stay ! The Church, or doctrine, we've no cause to blame, 'Tis to ourselves that we ascribe the shame! The way to heaven was certainly made plain, When told to “ run so that we might obtain." Our prayers and praises were so ſaiut ulià lui, We thought one day in seven would surely do, To praise Him who is worthy of more praise, Than our best powers are qualified to raise ! Oft when we did approach the throne of grace, Our hearts and thoughts were in some other place. O shameful truth! And yet it must be true! But conscience told us this would never do ! The nearest way to Heaven that we can go, Is cleaving close to Christ while here below; SERVANT'S ADDRESS TO HIS MASTER. :13 'Tis He that can our sinking footsteps stay, And vain the man who seeks another way! The man who truly has this race begun, Will see no time to stand, but strive to run; He'll therefore oft betake himself to prayer; Lest strength should fail, or he should grow luke- warm, And his weak soul the enemy disarm! That Book declares, whose Author is “ the Truth," The careless soul 6 He'll spew out of his mouth !!! Hence doth he see, he must be cold or hot; . Must either bave the Spirit of Christ or not:- If on examination he lacks this, God's Book declares that she is none of His !! If not a child of God, a child of hell, And dying thus, he must with devils dwell; And when his earthly hopes hare taken flight, Be then shut up in everlasting night! Á sinner, when he sees himself aright, Sees that his brightest day is turned to night; The things that once were his delight and joy, Do all his fondest hopes at once destroy ! God's Book like Sinai's mount to him appears, Its sentences, like thunder, stun his ears! He strives to sooth himself, but strives in vain, Till God to him the secret doth explain. He sees and feels the awful load of sin, Nor can aught ease the grief that he is in, Until he hears God's cheering, still small voice, Which calms his fears, and bids his soul rejoice! S 344 A LOVE LETTER. A man must know his sins on earth forgiven, Or he'll not read his title clear for heaven; If this you think too strong to be believ'd, I'm sure, in death, that you will be deceiv'd ! I am resolved a pilgrim now to be, Let worldly men say what they will of me; And through the grace of God, though Hell resist, I'll live and die a faithful Methodist! I see the pilgrim's life is far the best, Scorn'd by the world, but yet by Jesus blest! When death shall come, the Heavenly land in view, In peace, I'll bid this world of sin adieu ! A LOVE LETTER. (To Miss FORGIVE a stranger who would make so free, As to declare a suitor's love for thee; And by the strength of his affections, move Thy heart to render back responsive love! The language these few humble lines impart, Though it seem rude, is from an honest heart; From one whose only aim and object is Thy Lover's glory, and thy future bliss. Not for myself would I now intercede, For I, alas! no excellence can plead! My handsomest attire is homely spun, And many years my glass of life hath run. S . I plead the cause of Him, at whose command, Thy soul shall one day in his presence stand; A ] Ꮳy ᏗᎬTᎢᎬᎡ. 3-15 And thou for ever may'st lament the change, If once His love be turn'd into revenge! Of all thy list of lovers finely drest, He told me secretly he was the first; That even in thy youthful frolics wild, His love was on thee from a very child ! That often he has stood without thy door, While thuu did'st other swains prefer before : That oft the tear hath dimm’d his eye so bright, His locks all dripping with the dews of night! He needs not thus admit of rivals, when He is the fairest of the sons of men ! He woos the world, and those who hear his voice, Seldom, if ever, rue their happy choice. He says, for thee He has in battle bled, And carried weighty sorrows in thy stead; To saye thy soul from infinite distress, He bruis'd the monster in the wilderness ! S Nay, language fails to say, by land or sea, What perils he hath undergone for thee; Yea, many a bitter cup, and piercing smart His soul hath felt, to gain thy worthless heart ! Yes ! He who thus demands thy stedfast love. Is highly honour'd in the courts above; He speaks, and sun, and moon, and stars, stand still, And stormy winds and waves obey his will ! His tender care hath been about thy bed, When midnight thunders rolled above thy heail! When trembling thou beheld'st the lightning's glare Light up thay room, and caus'd thee sudden fear! 346 A LOVE LETT ÜR. To all who need Him he is sure to prore The best Physician too, when sick of love! And yet, all those who fall beneath his ire, His anger doth consume and burn like fire ! How long wilt thou withhold from Him his right? Or from thyself such permament delight, As He hath promis'd in his faithful word, Such as the hills of Paradise afford ? When will thine eyes with happy tears o'erflow? And thy fair breast with holy ardour glow? When will thy lips thy dearest friend surprise, By speaking out the language of the skies? Who thus surrender Him their heart and mind, Through life's vicissitudes are sure to find “ Him first, him last, him midst, and without end," A faithful Lover, and a constant Friend ! Where will those flee, or what may they expect, Who his repeated orertures reject, Who put in other gods their daily trust, When He shall dash their refuge into dust? S I long to see that lovely face of thine Beam forth with holy confidence divine ; And, fully freed from sin's enthralling chain, No longer seek for happiness in vain ! If then thy love be wandering elsewhere, Thy choice decide, while He doth with thee bear ; Lest thou lament thy loss with anguish keen, When Death hath fix'd a mighty gulf between ! 347 ON FINDING SOME DEISTICAL BOOKS IN THE HOUSE OF ONE WHO ONCE FEARED GOD. " How is the gold become dim!"-Lamentations iv. 1, FALSE publications throw their gloomy rays, Where once the Sun of Righteousness did shine; With pain we recollect the former days, While scoffing infidels their voices join ! Insulting Heaven, they oft with brazen brow, Deny our Saviour is the Son of God! But soon to Him their every knee shall bow, And they shall groan beneath His iron rod ! What madness to defy His power above, To slight that blood which has their souls redeem'd; To him who does his God sincerely love, How painful 'tis to hear His name blasphem'd! O let us flee these men of wicked minds, Whose glory reaches not beyond the grave; Who to accomplish their absurd designs, Dethrone our King, and style the conquest brave ! Yet still he reigns, and shall for ever hold In massy chains the gloomy powers of Hell ; They soon His second coming shall behold, Ah ! surely Satan's thousand years are up, And he once more is suffered loose to go! 348 THE HAPPY CHOICE. His object is to stagger Israel's hope, And drag them captive to his den below! Come down, O Lord! and bid thy thunders roll ! Send forth thy lightnings, and thy foes consume ! O let them know that thou wilt them control, In each and all the shapes which they assume ! Gird on thy sword, thou mighty matchless King! Reclaim these poor deluded sons of men ! O save them from the cruel serpent's sting, And drive him back to his infernal den! If Israel's hope is not quite lost in death, May these dry bones the Word of God receive ! Come from the four winds, O reviving breath, And breathe upon these slain, that they may live! THE HAPPY CHOICE. JESUS! thy name to me hath charms, Outvieing all beneath the sun; Thy secret love my bosom warms, And in my soul 'tis heaven begun ! No peace like that thy presence brings, No joys like those thou dost impart; Anon, with healing in thy wings, Thou com'st to heal the broken heart ! Thy footsteps may I always see, Under thy shadow may I dwell! A SOLEMN THOUGHT. 349 I give my life, my all to thee, And triumph o'er the powers of Hell ! Thou dost my soul with rapture fill, No more for Mammon I contend ; I glory in the joys I feel, While thou dost comfort and defend ! O let thy name be always sweet, As honey, from the rock, that flows; So shall I gladly turn my feet, Where'er my blessed Master goes ! A SOLEMN THOUGHT. How strange is the course a christian must steer, How perplexed the path he must tread : The hope of his happiness rises from fear, And his life he receives from the dead ! His fairest pretensions must wholly be waved, And his best resolutions be cross'd ; Nor can he expect to be perfectly sav'd, Till he finds himself utterly lost ! When all this is done, and his heart is assured Of the total remission of sins; When his peace is proclaim'd, and his pardon secur'd, From that moment his conflict begins, And he conquers through Jesus's blood À Y . INSCRIPTION IN PICKERING WESLEYAN CHAPEL. O and acred DARASA TO THE MEMORY OF JOHN CASTILLO, AUTHOR OF A hatool M AWD ISAAC, THE STEEPLE CHASE, AND OTHER POHMS, IN THE YORKSHIRE DIALECT. He libed for athers, caduto W HE WAS AN ORIGINAL AND SUCCESSFUL LOCAL PREACHER AMONGST THE WESLEYAN METHODISTS FOR MANY YEARS. Mestonbuono Bud noo hiz een's gon dim in deeath, Nea mare a pilgrim here on earth, His soul fits fra her shell beneeath, To realms of day; Whare carping care, and pain, and deeath, Iz dean away! J. C. died at Pickering, on Wednesilay, April 16th, 1815, aged about 53 years. HUMOROUS PIECES, THE SUNDAY SPREE! FROM the suburbs of a neighbouring park, The present subject of remark, An aged buck had broke away, He'd leap'd the wall and gone astray, It seems he'd had his wits about him, Lest any one should see or shout him, That he might more at pleasure roam, He'd left his horns with one at home! Soon as the keepers found him missing, They judg’d at once he was transgressing, And quickly rais'd a mighty train, Resolved to hunt him home again ! While men with weapons, dogs, and boys, At once kick'd up a warlike noise ! His scent they took, and run him true, Nor chased him long without a view ! A lady, in a township near, Had two or three young wanton Deer, Kept not so much for venison, As for the sport of gentlemen. No tawney brown of number vast, But fair and of the ginger cast; Whom Venus' records had ceveal'a, The first-rate sporters of the field ! S 352 THE SUNDAY SPREE. Soon as this place they did surround, The woodland ranger there they found; Adopted soon a proper measure, To force him from his field of pleasure. O’er moors and mountains, fields and rocks, They tallio'd him like a fox; But that which most with anger fill'd him, They drunk his head before they kill'd him! The country side was up in arms, And village troops came out by swarms, They wonderd all what curious thing, Such multitudes did thither bring ! No wonder this mountanious shout, Should bring the slumbering poet out, Among the rest his rhyme to mix, For to expose such wanton tricks ! At length so weary was withall, He, like a badger, tried to hole! Yet close pursued through bogs and wins, He still was kept upon his pins ! They chas'd him till the close of day, Until he homewards took his way; Where it is hoped he will remain, And never more desert again. The keepers all are on the watch, This old offender for to catch; And all the lads about the place, Are ready for another chase. If he again should chance to roam, Whose business is to keep at home; 'Tis thought he'll have to pay severe, For sporting with the Fallow Deer! 353 CASTLETON FAIR. As two or three workmen were napping away, One started up sudden, and said with an air, Lads, have ye forgotten 'tis Castleton Fair! Then, Willy looks up and said, what think you, John, If we after dinner should take a walk on; As I have just got an odd shilling to spare, Let's jog on together to Castleton Fair ! Then John he made answer, it is a fine day, But it might be better at home for to stay, I think such as us has no business there, We shall be far better from Castleton Fair! Says Willy, I am young and I want to see life, And you're an old hand and in search of a wife; Perhaps you may get one at Castleton Fair! Says John unto Willy, thy plan might have done, But thou knows after all there's great hazards to run, There are many who wishes they'd never come there, For misfortunes they've gotten at Castleton Fair! Says Willy, I want for to go to see sport, To hear all the news the lads has gotten afloat, Them fellows fra' t' west they make people stair, With impossible stories at Castleton Fair ! The lassies are going, then how can we stay, They look so enticing, so blithe and so gay ; The weather won't stop them, be it rainy or fair, But they are dashing away to Castleton Fair! 354 CASTLETON FAIR. Says John, I think, Willy, I am not very keen, We may by chance rush into danger unseen, Therefore if you go I would have you beware, There's many deceivers at Castleton Fair! A careful young fellow, as I have heard say, To go on to Castleton he broke half a day, But he lost his dear Nanny, nor was he aware, Tell they got all his money at Castleton Fair ! But I think we may be both merry and wise, And partake of the dainties and luxuries rare, The pleasures and pastimes of Castleton Fair ! I think we may go and not catch any harm, We can call for some liquors refreshing and warm, And listen to't bagpipes, while set in our chair, And keep out of mischief at Castleton Fair! Says John, ever since these Fairs first began, They have been both a burden and scandal to man, For drunkenness oft has polluted the air, With battles and mischief at Castleton Fair ! Another young fellow who went to see life, And to pick up a lass to make him a wife, Who will, if you ask him, abruptly declare, A bonny young lass, not far from this place, Now scarcely dare look any body iť face, Her heart is broken with grief and despair, By stopping too late at Castleton Fair! The old wives the young lasses try to excel, In feathers and flounces, and fragrant smell! They buy a false topping to hide their grey hairy, To make them look young at these Castleton Fairs ! POOR PATCH. 355 But the best way to keep out of danger is this, To be fully determined not to come where it is ; For who can we blame if we're caught in a snare, But ourselves for going to Castleton Fair? Then, Willy, says John, I think as you say, We shall after all be better away; Then let's be contented and stay where we are, And save the expences of Castleton Fair ! POOR PATCH. Poor Patch was brought up to't scratch, And mark'd out for being a glutton ; With his neck in a string, He was sentenced to swing, 'Cause he'd grown sike a laddie for mutton ! A piece of a leg he happen'd to beg, As down Jack-sled-gate he was trudging, By carrying on't heeam, He gat all the bleeam, And he was to be hang'd without judging ! He seem'd for to say, at the close of the day, To the dogs that were out on the roads, " Take warning by me, When you're out on the spree, Or else you'll be down on the moors ! There's monny mare left that are laddies for theft, A vast mare for taking than giving; Sheep 'ell be worried, Though I'm so hurried, Away from the land of the living ! ** 356 ROSEDALE FESTIVAL. THE FOUL SIDE. As I walk'd out the other day To hear what folks had got to say, I heard some news that pleas'd me well, Concerning Rosedale Festival! The lads and lasses, far and near, Do hie to Rosedale once a year, Where Nuns and Friars used to dwell, To celebrate the Festival! A youth address'd his female friend, Says he, “ My dear, I do intend On Sunday next, if all be well, To be at Rosedale Festival ! They tell us, if the day be fair, A vast of music will be there ; Aught we have heard it will excel, Who have not seen a Festival! You for the journey must prepare, I shall intend to meet you there, The very first man I mean to fell, That touches you at Festival !" - Well, John," says she, “if I can find A man more suiting to my mind, If I think I can love him well, I'll walk with him at Festival !” ROSEDALÈ FESTIVAL. 357 It was the case, for bonny Jin Did take poor Johnny sadly in, Got sadly lick'd at Festival ! But Johnny, he was not alone, It was the case with many a one, Who even now with tears may tell How he lost his lass at Festival ! But Rosedale Church, * before nor seni, Of women, lasses, lads, and men, Was never so full sen Page can tell, As it was at this Festival! Their high-flown anthems had to pass ; Striving each other to excel, In bigger blasts at ť Festival ! 'Twas doubtful form'd on such a plan, Far less to honour God than man ; And through the country raise a swell That Rosedale kept a Festival ! I heard one say, that had been there, It really was more like a fair Than aught at all that he could tell, Although 'twas called a Festival! The morning and the afternoon Were spent in walking up and down, Unlucky lads made 't lasses yell, And marr'd this mighty Festival ! At the time this was written, the Church and Church Yard were the principal places of resort on these occasions. 955 ROSEDALE FESTIVAL. Two rustics I shall touch upon, Wi' ankle-boots and leggings on, Got sadly drunk, as I heard tell, And fought at Rosedale Festival ! They ate all Tommy Pearson's pie, And drunk J. Dowson's cellar dry, And had to go to't Abbey well, To quench their thirst at t' Festival ! · I hope against another year They will provide them better cheer, That some may have the news to tell, They got new hearts at t Festival ! But little lads without their hats, Fra Bob-at-Cloughs to Tom-at-Yatts, May down to future ages tell, What pass'd at Rosedale Festival ! ROSEDALE FESTIVAL. THE FAIR SIDE. Thou Rosedale, too, hast long unnotic'd lay, But now thy night is bursting into day; Thy tribes are lighting up thy ancient shrines, To cheer the hearts of neighbouring divines. Their torches tipp'd with patriarchal fire, Renew'd old anthems up to heaven aspire ; ROSHDALE FESTIVAL 359 Thy mossy abbey walls with Ivy bound, Long slept in silence, echoes with the sound. The Queen of Harmony lifts up her head, And throws her mantle o'er the silent dead ; The orphan's lamentations to alloy, And drown the widow's tears in festive joy. Thus pious David's days are brought to mind, With neighbouring instrumental concert join'd; While virgin troops, with voices young and sweet, Tenor and treble, make the song complete ! If the Holy Spirit's influences real, Inflame their hearts with love, and pious zeal, A smiling God the sacrifice will own, And angels wings shall waft it to the throne. If mix'd with sighs, and sound repenting tears, With thankful thoughts, and purifying fears, Swift it will mount the vast ethereal height, Nor clouds, nor sun, nor stars, impede its flight! There Israel's harp is put in tune once more, And, sounding, sings as in the days of yore; While Christian men, with hallelujahs loud, Their censors lift above the gazing crowd. They sing the flames and fears of Jesse's son, The Father's long-lost prodigal return; They sing Messiah's banners bright unfurl'd, His infant entrance into this our world ! They sing the cause for which a Saviour bled, Who like a lamb was to the slaughter led ; 360 ROSEDALE FESTIVAL. They sing the Cross, which patiently he bore ; They sing His reign till time shall be no more! They sing His second coming on the clouds, To judge the world's amazing multitudes ; His own to gather out, to „sow, and bless, And man of his lost Eden re-possess. They sing the plan appointed by the Lord, Whereby lost man again may be restor'd; While men of hoary hairs, by infant tongues Are cheer'd while they are singing Zion's songs, If they, by grace, live up to what they sing, And thus their constant sacrifices bring, They soon shall soar to realms of endless day, Till this dark spot for distance die away! There's Jimmey Petch, as faithful as the dial, And Tommy Pearson manages the Viol; Ephraim and Dowson high their voices raise, And Bob-at-Clough he thunders in the bass ! THE END. W.F. Pratt, Printer, Market Place, Stokesley. 4 . 44 .. ASV UNIVERSITY OF MICHIGAN 4X / Y Co 2. III L1 II T 1 III INT DI VE Water WA NE 1 11 IUNI IND | II TI II 129 * 1 2 * 1 . 11 CAR 11 3.. THUR 47 tex OP OM : . WITX 2U . . . TIN 3 9015 08586 2756 AN 16x YA A ART 24 2 Oy 31 SAXO . 15 . * **** * X * . . 2 . ** . 7 * COM . * 94 or RCS ERAT 6177 22 LET TO IARY * * P. SLAS TAN * * * * ine * ALE NI S thing SAN wi So tiky WYS t . AURO irr **:X .. AVE 1. . SA con W ST . 2 * * STA . . .. * TER .. ܝ . ܀:. ' ܀ ܪ܀ ܂ ،،،܇ -:- : .' :: : . : ... . .. . . . . . . ܝ ܐ . ' :": . 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