Then cease, foolish heart, to repine;
   No stage is exempted from care: 
If you would true happiness find,
   Come follow! and I’ll show you where. 
But, first, let us take for our guide
   The Word which Jehovah has penned;
By this the true path is descried
   Which leads to a glorious end.

How narrow this path to our view! 
   How steep an ascent lies before! 
Whilst, foolish fond heart, laid for you
   Are dazzling temptations all o’er. 
What bye-ways with easy descent
   Invite us through pleasures to stray! 
Whilst Satan, with hellish intent,
   Suggests that we ought to obey.

But trust not the father of lies,
   He tempts you with vanity’s dream;
His pleasure, when touched, quickly dies,
   Like bubbles that dance on the stream. 
Look not on the wine when it glows
   All ruddy, in vessels of gold;
At last it will sting your repose,
   And death at the bottom unfold. {208}

But lo! an unnatural night
   Pours suddenly down on the eye;
The sun has withdrawn all his light,
   And rolls a black globe o’er the sky! 
And hark! what a cry rent the air! 
   Immortal the terrible sound!—­
The rocks split with honible tear,
   And fearfully shakes all the ground!

The dead from their slumbers awake,
   And, leaving their mouldy domain,
Make poor guilty mortals to quake
   As pallid they glide o’er the plain! 
Sure, Nature’s own God is oppressed,
   And Nature in agony cries;—­
The sun in his mourning is dressed,
   To tell the sad news through the skies!

Yet surely some victory’s gained,
   Important, and novel, and great,
Since Death has his captives unchained,
   And widely thrown open his gate! 
Yes, victory great as a God
   Could gain over hell, death, and sin,
This moment’s achieved by the blood
   Of Jesus, our crucified King.

But all the dread conflict is o’er;
   Lo! cloud after cloud rolls away;
And heaven, serene as before,
   Breaks forth in the splendour of day! 
And all the sweet landscape around,
   Emerged from the ocean of night,
With groves, woods, and villages crowned,
   Astonish and fill with delight!

But see! where that crowd melts away,
   Three crosses sad spectacles show! 
Our Guide has not led us astray;
   Heart! this is the secret you’d know—­
Two thieves, and a crucified God
   Hangs awfully mangled between! 
Whilst fast from His veins spouting blood
   Runs, dyeing with purple the green!

Behold! the red flood rolls along,
   And forming a bason below,
Is termed in Emanuel’s song
   The fount for uncleanness and woe. 
Immerged in that precious tide,
   The soul quickly loses its stains,
Though deeper than crimson they’re dyed,
   And ’scapes from its sorrows and pains.