Page images
PDF

Of the same grove, and drink one common ftream.
Antipathies are none. No foe to man
Lurks in the serpent now: the mother fees,
And smiles to fee, her infant's playful hand
Stretched forth to dally with the crefted worm,
To ftroke his azure neck, or to receive
The lambent homage of his arrowy tongue.
All creatures worship man, and all mankind
One Lord, one Father. Error has no place:
That creeping peftilence is driven away;
The breath of heaven has chased it. In the heart
No paflion touches a discordant ftring,
But all is harmony and love. Disease
Is not: the pure and uncontaminate blood
Holds its due course, nor fears the frost of age.
One fong employs all nations; and all cry,
“ Worthy the Lamb, for he was Nain for us!"
The dwellers in the vales and on the rocks
Shout to each other, and the mountain tops
From diftant mountains catch the flying joy;
Till nation after nation taught the strain,
Earth rolls the rapturous Hosanna round.
Behold the measure of the promise filled;
See Salem built, the labour of a God!
Bright as a sun the sacred city shines;
All kingdoms and all princes of the earth.

[ocr errors][ocr errors]

• Nebaioth and Kedar, the fons of Ilmael, and progenitors of the Arabs, in the prophetic scripture here alluded to, may be realonably confidered as representatives of the Gentiles at large.

[ocr errors]
[ocr errors]

Come then, and added to thy many crowns, Receive yet one, the crown of all the earth, Thou who alone art worthy! It was thine . By ancient covenant, ere nature's birth; And thou hast made it thine by purchase fince, And overpaid its value with thy blood. Thy saints proclaim thee king; and in their hearts Thy title is engraven with a pen Dipt in the fountain of eternal love. Thy faints proclaim thee king; and thy delay Gives courage to their foes, who, could they fee The dawn of thy laft advent, long-defired, Would creep into the bowels of the hills, And flee for safety to the falling rocks. The very fpirit of the world is tired Of its own taunting question, asked so long, " Where is the promise of your Lord's approach ?" The infidel has shot his bolts away, Till his exhausted quiver yielding none, . He gleans the blunted shafts, that have recoiled,

VOL. II.

[ocr errors]
« PreviousContinue »