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Again that gracious word to me!
O speak that word again! My guilt is pardoned ?—can it be?
And loosed my every chain ?
No, blessed Lord; not every chain,
Not every bond, remove : Let one, at least, unloosed remain
The bond of grateful love.
FLY, YE HOURS.-For Music.
Fly, ye hours, the best, the brightest :
Man, be wise :
Thy earthly joys Are poor, compared with those thou slightest.
The world we roam
Is not our home :
We seek a rest that
Through weal or woe,
From all below We haste to scenes where nothing paineth.
Fly, ye hours, &c.
It is not life,
These only serve from God to sever.
We hope to rise
Above the skies;
Fly, ye hours, &c.
Can that be gain,
Whose charms detain
The soul from glory's richer treasures ?
Can that be woe,
That serves to throw
A brighter hue o'er coming pleasures ?
Fly, ye hours, the best, the brightest !
Rise, O rise
To nobler joys; And taste the bliss which now thou slightest.
“ WHITHER SHALL I FLY FROM THY
WHERE shall I fy? What dark untrodden path
Is there no island in the depths of space,
But there is night :-perhaps her murky womb May wrap and hide me in its depths of gloom ? No: He that says, “ Be light, and there is light,” Can look Omniscience thro’ the dunnest night. Give me then morning's wings: I'll fling me where The desert waste ne'er claims His eye or care. Vain hope! If He were absent, conscience then Would act the God, and scare me back to men.
Well then the ocean : She my head shall hide, And quench his bolts in her o'ersheltering tide. Fool! the dark waves cleave wide at His comma
And, lo, He walks them as He walks the land.
the rocks? Stern marble, ope thy breast, And lock me in to monumental rest.
Vain, vain ! His voice the rocks have often heard; Nay, worlds dissolve before His lightest word,
Be death then mine! At least the grave, or hell, Will yield some sullen nook where I
dwell. No: the last trump shall burst the bars of death ; And God's stern presence felt makes hell beneath.