And springs, like dissolv'd pearls, their streams

did pour,

Ne'er marr'd with floods, nor angered with a

showre.

With these fair thoughts I move in this fair place,
And the last steps of my milde Master trace.
I see him leading out his chosen train,

All sad with tears, which, like warm summer rain,
In silent drops steal from their holy eyes,
Fix'd lately on the cross, now on the skies.
And now, eternal Jesus! thou dost heave

Thy blessed hands to bless those thou dost leave.
The cloud doth now receive thee; and, their sight
Having lost thee, behold two men in white!
Two, and no more; "What two attest is true,"

Was thine own answer to the stubborn Jew.
Come, then, thou faithful witness! come, dear Lord,
Upon the clouds again to judge this world!

ASCENSION HYMN.

DUST and clay,

Man's antient wear,

Here you must stay,

But I elsewhere!

Souls sojourn here, but may not rest;

Who will ascend must be undrest.

And yet some,

That know to die

Before death come,

Walk to the skie

Even in this life; but all such can Leave behinde them the old man.

If a star

Should leave the sphære,
She must first mar

Her flaming wear,

And after fall; for, in her dress
Of glory, she cannot transgress.

Man of old,
Within the line

Of Eden, could

Like the sun shine,

All naked, innocent, and bright,

And intimate with heav'n as light;

But, since he

That brightness soil'd,

His garments be

All dark and spoil'd,

And here are left as nothing worth,

Till the Refiner's fire breaks forth.

Then comes he!

Whose mighty light

Made his cloathes be,

Like heav'n, all bright;

The Fuller, whose pure blood did flow,

To make stain'd man more white than snow.

Hee alone,

And none else, can

Bring bone to bone,

And rebuild man;

And, by his all-subduing might,

Make clay ascend more quick than light.

THEY ARE ALL GONE.

THEY are all gone into the world of light,
And I alone sit lingring here!
Their very memory is fair and bright,
And my sad thoughts doth clear.

It glows and glitters in my cloudy brest,
Like stars upon some gloomy grove,

Or those faint beams in which this hill is drest
After the sun's remove.

I see them walking in an air of glory,
Whose light doth trample on my days;

My days, which are at best but dull and hoary,
Meer glimering and decays.

O holy hope and high humility!

High as the heavens above!

These are your walks, and you have shew'd them me To kindle my cold love.

Dear, beauteous death; the jewel of the just!
Shining nowhere but in the dark;
What mysteries do lie beyond thy dust,
Could man outlook that mark!

He that hath found some fledg'd bird's nest may know
At first sight if the bird be flown;

But what fair dell or grove he sings in now,
That is to him unknown.

And yet, as angels in some brighter dreams,
Call to the soul when man doth sleep,
So some strange thoughts transcend our wonted
theams,

And into glory peep.

If a star were confin'd into a tomb,

Her captive flames must needs burn there; But, when the hand that lockt her up gives room, She'll shine through all the sphære.

O Father of eternal life, and all

Created glories under thee!

Resume thy spirit from this world of thrall

Into true liberty.

Either disperse these mists, which blot and fill

My perspective still as they pass;

Or else remove me hence unto that hill
Where I shall need no glass.

WHITE SUNDAY.

WELLCOME, white day! a thousand suns, Though seen at once, were black to thee! For, after their light, darkness comes; But thine shines to eternity.

Those flames, which on the apostles rush'd
At this great feast, and, in a tyre
Of cloven tongues, their heads all brush'd,
And crown'd them with prophetic fire,

Can these new lights be like to those,
These lights of serpents like the Dove?
Thou hadst no gall ev'n for thy foes,
And thy two wings were grief and love.

Though then some boast that fire each day, And on Christ's coat pin all their shreds; Not sparing openly to say,

His candle shines upon their heads;