And rouse the long, long sleepers into life,

Day-light, and liberty.

Then must thy gates fly open, and reveal the minds That lay long forming under ground,

In their dark cells immur'd; but now fuil ripe, And pure as silver from the crucible,

That twice has stood the torture of the fire,

And inquisition of the forge. We know,
Th' illustrious Deliverer of mankind,

The Son of God, thee foil'd. Him in thy power
Thou could'st not hold; self-vigorous he rose,
And shaking off thy fetters, soon retook

Those spoils his voluntary yielding lent.
(Sure pledge of our releasement from thy thrall!)
Twice twenty days he sojourn'd here on earth,
And shew'd himself alive to chosen witnesses,
By proofs so strong, that the most slow assenting
Had not a scruple left. This having done,

He mounted up to Heaven. Methinks I see him

Climb the aërial heights, and glide along

Athwart the severing clouds; but the faint eye

Flung backwards in the chace, soon drops its hold, Disabled quite, and jaded with pursuing.

Heaven's portals wide expand to let him in;

Nor are his friends shut out: as some great Prince Not for himself alone procures admission,

But for his train; it was his royal will,

That where he is, there should his followers be.
Death only lies between, a gloomy path!

Made yet more gloomy by our coward fears!
But nor untrod, nor tedious; the fatigue

Will soon go off. Besides, there's no bye-road
To bliss. Then why, like ill-condition'd chil-

dren,

Start we at transient hardships in the way

That leads to purer air and softer skies,

And a ne'er setting sun? Fools that we are!

We wish to be where sweets unwith'ring bloom;

But straight our wish revoke, and will not go. So have I seen, upon a summer's even,

Fast by the rivulet's brink, a youngster play;
How wishfully he looks to stem the tide!

This moment resolute, next unresolv'd,
At last he dips his foot; but, as he dips,
His fears redouble, and he runs away

From th' inoffensive stream, unmindful now

Of all the flowers that paint the further bank, And smil'd so sweet of late. Thrice welcome

Death!

That, after many a painful bleeding step,

Conducts us to our home, and lands us safe On the long-wish'd-for shore. Prodigious

change!

Our bane turn'd to a blessing! Death disarm'd Loses its fellness quite; all thanks to Him

Who scourg'd the venom out! Sure the last end

Of the good man is peace. How calm his exit!

Night-dews fall not more gently to the ground, Nor weary worn-out winds expire so soft.

Behold him in the ev'ning-tide of life,

A life well spent, whose early care it was,

His riper years should not upbraid his green:
By unperceiv'd degrees he wears away;

Yet like the sun seems larger at his setting!
High in his faith and hopes, look how he reaches
After the prize in view! and, like a bird
That's hamper'd, struggles hard to get away!
Whilst the glad gates of sight are wide expanded
To let new glories in, the first fair fruits
Of the fast-coming harvest! Then! O then!
Each earth-born joy grows vile, or disappears,
Shrunk to a thing of nought. O how he longs
To have his passport sign'd, and be dismiss'd!
'Tis done, and now he 's happy! The glad soul
Has not a wish uncrown'd. E'en the lag flesh
Rests too in hope of meeting once again

Its better half, never to sunder more.

Nor shall it hope in vain: the time draws on
When not a single spot of burial-earth,

Whether on land or in the spacious sea,

But must give back its long committed dust
Inviolate and faithfully shall these

Make up the full account; not the least atom
Embezzled, or mislaid, of the whole tale.

Each soul shall have a body ready furnish'd; Hence ye pro

And each shall have his own.

fane!

Ask not, how this can be? Sure the same Power That rear'd the piece at first, and took it down, Can re-assemble the loose scatter'd parts,

And put them as they were. Almighty God Has done much more; nor is his arm impair'd

Through length of days; and what he can he

will:

His faithfulness stands bound to see it done.