See the vile King his iron fceptre bear----
His only praise attends the pious * Heir;
He, in whofe foul the virtues all confpire,
The best good fon, from the worst wicked fire.
And lo! in Hezekiah's golden reign,
Long-exil'd Piety returns again;
Again in genuine purity fhe fhines,
And with her prefence gilds the long-neglected fhrines.
Ill-ftarr'd does proud Affyria's impious † Lord
Bid Heav'n to arms, and vaunt his dreadful fword;
His own vain threats th' infulting King o'erthrow,
But breathe new courage on the gen'rous foe.
Th' avenging Angel, by divine command,
The fiery fword full-blazing in his hand,
Leant down from Heav'n: amid the storm he rode
March'd Peftilence before him; as he trod,
Pale Defolation bath'd his steps in blood.
Thick wrapt in night, thro' the proud hoft he past,
Difpenfing death, and drove the furious blaft;
Nor bade Destruction give her revels o'er,
Till the gorg'd fword was drunk with human gore.
But what avails thee, pious Prince, in vain
Thy fceptre refcu'd, and th' Affyrian flain?
Ev'n now the foul maintains her latest strife,
And death's chill grafp congeals the fount of life.
Yet, fee, kind Heav'n renews thy brittle thread,
And rolls full fifteen fummers o'er thy head;
Lo! the receding fun repeats his way,
And, like thy life, prolongs the falling day.
Tho' nature her inverted course forego,
The day forget to reft, the time to flow,
Yet fhall Jehovah's fervants ftand fecure,
His mercy fix'd, eternal shall endure;
On them her ever-healing rays shall shine;
More mild and bright, and sure, O fun! than thine.
At length the long-expected Prince behold,
The laft good King; in ancient days foretold,
When Bethel's altar spoke his future fame,
Rent to it's base, at good Jofiah's name.
Bleft, happy prince! o'er whofe lamented urn,
In plaintive fong, all Judah's daughters mourn;
For whom fad Sion's fofteft forrow flows,
And Jeremiah pours his sweet melodious woes.
But now fall'n Sion, once the fair and great,
Sits deep in duft, abandon'd, defolate ;
Bleeds her fad heart, and ever stream her eyes,
And anguish tears her, with convulfive fighs.
The mournful captive spreads her hands in vain,
Her hands, that rankle with the fervile chain ;
Till he, * Great Chief! in Heav'n's appointed time,
Leads back her children, to their native clime.
Fair Liberty revives with all her joys,
And bids her envy'd walls fecurely rise.
And thou, great hallow'd dome, in ruin spread,
Again fhalt lift fublime thy facred head.
But ah! with weeping eyes, the ancients view
A faint refemblance of the old in you.
No more th' effulgent glory of thy God
Speaks awful anfwers, from the myftic cloud:
No more thine altars blaze with fire divine,
And Heav'n has left thy folitary fhrine.
Yet, in thy courts, hereafter, fhalt thou fee
Prefence immediate of the Deity,
The light himself reveal'd, the God confefs'd
in Thee.
And now, at length, the fated term of years The world's defire have brought, and lo! the
The Heav'nly Babe the Virgin Mother bears,
And her fond looks confefs the parent's cares.
The pleafing burthen on her breast she lays,
Hangs o'er his charms, and with a smile surveys.
The Infant fmiles, to her fond bofom prest,
And wantons, fportive, on the mother's breast.
A radiant glory speaks him all Divine,
And in the Child the beams of Godhead fhine.
But now alas! far other views disclose
The blackest comprehensive scene of woes.
See where man's voluntary facrifice
Bows his meek head, and God eternal dies!
Fixt to the Cross, his healing arms are bound,
While copious Mercy streams from ev'ry wound.
Mark the blood-drops that life exhausting roll,
And the strong pang that rends the stubborn foul!
As all death's tortures, with severe delay,
Exult, and riot in the noblest prey.
And can't thou, stupid man, those sorrows see,
Nor fhare the anguish which He bears for Thee?
Thy fin, for which his facred flesh is torn,
Points ev'ry nail, and sharpens ev'ry thorn;
Can't thou?---while nature smarts in ev'ry wound,
And each pang cleaves the fympathetic ground!
Lo! the black fun, his chariot backward driv'n,
Blots out the day, and perishes from Heav'n :
Earth, trembling from her entrails, bears a part,
And the rent rock upbraids man's stubborn heart.
The yawning grave reveals his gloomy reign,
And the cold clay-clad dead, start into life again.
And thou, O tomb, once more fhalt wide display,
Thy fatiate jaws, and give up all thy prey.
Thou, groaning earth fhalt heave, absorpt in flame,
As the last pangs convulse thy lab'ring frame ;
When the fame God unshrouded thou shalt fee,
Wrapt in full blaze of Power and Majesty,
Ride on the clouds; whilft, as his chariot flies,
The bright effufion ftreams thro' all the skies.
Then shall the proud diffolving mountains glow,
And yielding rocks in fiery rivers flow:
The molten deluge round the globe shall roar,
And all man's arts and labour be no more.
Then fhall the fplendors of th' enliven'd glass
Sink undiftinguifh'd in the burning mafs.
And O! till earth, and feas, and Heav'n decay,
Ne'er that fair creation fade away;
May winds and ftorms thofe beauteous colours fpare,
may they bloom, as permanent as fair,
All the vain rage of wafting time repell,
And his Tribunal fee, whofe Crofs they paint fo well.
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