A Book of Christian Sonnets. william Allen
may ye find, and faith t' embrace
The offer'd pardon through redeeming blood;
Then to the world great Benefactors prove,
Your pride exchang'd for happy subjects' love!
5. TRUTH'S TESTIMONY OF CHRIST. (notes)
Truth to the earth came down from heav'n above,
Cloth'd in celestial beauty to the eye,
Willing to see; man's guide to God on high.
Her voice is voice of sweetness and of love,
Of pow'r all feelings of the soul to move.
When she but speaks, all wild'ring phantoms fly,
Each cheat, and fraud, and vile, illusive lie,
Which in our murky air around thick rove.
She speaks of Him, who ere the earth was made
Was God's own Son in heav'nly glory bright;
Yet dwelt with man in mortal flesh array'd,
Redeemer blest! of this dark world the light;—
Whose death by cruel nails our life has won,
Whose cross for us a bright, immortal crown.
6. CORRUPTED YOUTH.
I've seen the morning sweet, serene, and bright,
Cheer'd by th' effulgence of the orb of day,
And ev'ry object drest in pure array;
But soon the splendor chang'd to dismal night.
Dark clouds and raging storms spread round affright,
While lightnings gleam, and thunders bring dismay.
And such too oft is Youth: thoughtless and gay,
With ev'ry charm to bless th' admiring sight.
But soon how chang'd! The face is mark'd with care,
The furious passions cast away control,
And outrag'd conscience shakes a glist'ning dart.
Poor Youth! Would'st thou the marred scene repair,
The sway of holy laws must guide thy soul,
And love, and hope, and faith must fill thy heart.
7. PENITENCE.
Heard ye the anguish of that broken sigh,
Bursting from wretched sinner's smitten heart?
Or did ye mark the contrite tears, which start
In pearly drops from that uplifted eye?
Blest is that groan; 'tis heard by him on high,
Whose grace from prostrate soul will ne'er depart,
Whose tender love will soothe the mental smart,
And to Himself bring humble aliens nigh.
Blest are those tears;—with brighter ray they shine,
Than costliest gem, which tyrant's crown adorns,
When beaming on the gaze of subject throngs.
The grief of penitence wakes bliss divine
Before His throne, who bore the crown of thorns,
And Angels' harps resound with rapt'rous songs!
8. God's omnipresence. Psalm 139.
O, whither from thy Spirit shall I go?
Or whither from thine eye shall I repair?
Thou, Lord, if I ascend to heav'n, art there;
And there, if I lie down in grave below:
Or if the wings of morning on me grow,
And with the speed of light I pierce the air
And find the shores, which India's billows wear—
Ev'n there thy presence will around me flow.—
If I should say—"night's veil will me conceal;"
Yet in thy view the darkness shall be light,
And deepest gloom will shine like flood of day.—
Thy presence, Lord, then let me ever feel
Each budding, sinful aim and thought to blight,
And urge to deeds of holy, blest array.
9. THE PROMETHEUS CHAINED OF AESCHYLUS.
'Tis piteous tale, in Grecian numbers told—
Prometheus chain'd by Vulcan to a rock;
Expos'd aloft to ev'ry tempest's shock,
To burning sun, and winter's shiv'ring cold:
And all his woe, as minstrel doth unfold,
From love to man, whom other gods would mock.
For man his hands Jove's treasury unlock;
The stolen fire he breathes on man's dull mould.
O, could this Bard have liv'd in Christian days,
And seen our blessed Lord nail'd to the tree,
Expos'd, from love to man, to scorn and woe;
He would have sung of Jesus; and his lays
Would shame our empty, soulless minstrelsy,
Whose strains in praise of Jesus never flow!
10. ON TYNDALE, THE MARTYR. (notes)
Tyndale! Blest martyr to the truth and right,
Who in thy zeal didst cause, with labor long,
God's word to shine out in thy native tongue,
In killing thee the men, who to the light
Darkness prefer, would shroud the world in night.
Vain hope! for on the day of this great wrong
The sun of truth arose on England's throng
With not a cloud t' obscure its splendor bright.
What though the men of Rome did strangle thee,
Then burn thy body at the stake? Thy name
Is honor'd in the earth, while infamy
Attends thy foes, and bigots blush with shame.
But more than this: in the last day God's Son
Will give the glorious crown, which thou hast won!
11. MISERABLE OLD AGE.
'Tis weary through the race of life to run,
Expos'd to noon-tide heat and chilly night,
Mid storms, that well the boldest may affright,
When clouds with lightnings arm'd obscure the sun.
Our cares are vain; the good is never won;
Sweet joys are fleeting as the meteor's light;
Unfix'd as shadows are our hopes most bright;
And toil of years is toil but just begun.
Backward from long ascent we turn the eye,
If haply the review may cheer the heart:
The graves of those we love heave through the way.
Forward we gaze: thick mists obstruct the sky,
But precipice is near, from which we start;
Yet naught remains but down to slide