Dismay and horror seiz’d each soul, When this sad news was known, For her the passing-bell did toll, ETERNITY her home. Like the weak grass, or tender flow’r, Or vapour’s empty breath; Sweet Nancy wither’d in an hour, Cut down by sudden death. _William_ bewail’d her early fate, A prey to woe and grief; Pensive, forlorn, and wan he sat, And would have no relief. The question “if her soul was safe?” Gave poignancy to woe; Should hell have follow’d sudden death, “Would she not thither go?” From brooding on _her_ doubtful lot, Now fix’d for ever sure; His mind now turn’d its every thought, To _his_ sick soul and cure. “How shall I flee from wrath to come, Where hide my guilty head? Should I next go to my long home, Where shall I be?” he said. He bade adieu to sinful joy, And trac’d the moral page; The fine clad sentiment could cloy, But not his grief assuage. No, he had tried all these in vain, All “empty, void, and waste;” They serv’d but to increase his pain, Involving ruin fast. Thus, baffled, wearied, and distress’d, He did a Bible see; There found a prayer for one oppress’d, “LORD, undertake for me.” To church on Sundays he had been, As others come and go; But ne’er by faith had JESUS seen, Or heard what CHRIST could do. Until, with circumcised ear, He when at church one day, Found mercy to his soul draw near, Which to _his_ heart did say: “Come unto me, thou weary soul, Laden with num’rous sins; No case so bad that can controul My grace where it begins. Why so disquieted art thou, With sins, and fears, and care? Lo th’ accepted time is now, Tho’ lost, do not despair. Lost in yourself, in CHRIST there’s hope, And never till you’re lost, Relinquish ev’ry other prop, And then you’ll prize him most. ’Twas such he came to seek and save, And could he come in vain? And if no other hope you have, You need no more complain.” The sermon ended, _Will_ went home, Stepp’d up and lock’d his door; Fell on his knees before GOD’S throne, And mercy did implore. Mercy he found, and after liv’d Daily _on_ CHRIST by faith; _To_ Jesus liv’d while he surviv’d, Triumphant was in death. FINIS. * * * * * London; Printed and sold by J. and C. Evans Long lane