“O great Creator, ever good and wise, I dare not lift to thee mine eyes— Thy violated laws for vengeance call, And on offenders heavy judgment fall; Which hurl them flaming to eternal pains, To suffer ever on infernal plains. The terrors of thy justice make me fear, For who can everlasting torment bear? My soul with grief is rent, Oh! stop thy hand, Shivering before thy Majesty I stand; Long have I trod the ’luring path of vice, And tire thy patience, and thy grace despise. Before thy throne I bow with suppliant knee, Grant gracious God, thy pardon unto me: In solitude my follies I repent, The life so long, so viciously, I spent, O God! I wish undone my wicked deeds, My contrite heart with inward sorrows bleeds. Thou, O my God! art witness of my grief, And thou alone canst grant me a relief. I promise faithfully to sin no more, (I sue for mercy, and thy grace implore,) And spend my life, for ever, in thy fear, Thy laws to keep, thy holy name revere.” Thus plain’d the pensive Shepherd, and his moan, Christ, his Mediator, brought before the throne! Him graciously answer’d God to Sire, His face resplendent with a globe of fire:— “My Son hath paid thy ransom, go in peace, Eternal justice bids thee be at ease!” He said, and all the choir of angels sung, Harmonious melody, their harps they strung, And heaven’s Empyreum to their music rung, Such is the joy when a poor sinner turns, That with uncommon glow each seraph burns. Thus I may compare small things with great, The Prodigal his tender father met; Such as the Gospel paints in tatter’d weed, Willing with husks to satisfy his need: And none would give them, though the hungry roam, Till he returned unto his Father’s home; Who kill’d the fatted calf, and spread the feast, Where wine and minstrelsy his joy exprest. The Shepherd thus refresh’d with heavenly grace, Return’d with joy eternal in his face; The Saviour’s wond’rous love to man he prais’d, And thus his voice with gratitude he rais’d:— “All glory to the gracious SON of GOD, Who hast alone the grevious wine-press trod, To satisfy his justice, and for me Hast wrought endless salvation on the tree; Who hast redeem’d us, and destroyed our foes, That neither death nor grave can work our woes: Hast overthrown the dragon, and no more Hell, nor its gates have terrors left in store!” Thus did the Shepherd testify his joy, A theme that might an angel’s tongue employ; He praised Christ, who for mankind did die; His praise let all resound, to all eternity. * * * * * VERSES _On seeing the Ruins of Ivor Hael’s Palace_. Amidst its alders IVOR’S palace lies, In heaps of ruins to my wondering eyes; Where greatness dwelt in pomp, now thistles reign, And prickly thorns assert their wide domain.