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THE TIMBER. 1 Sure thou didst flourish once! and many springs,
Many bright mornings, much dew, many showers Passed o’er thy head; many light hearts and wings,
Which now are dead, lodged in thy living bowers.
2 And still a new succession sings and flies;
Fresh groves grow up, and their green branches Towards the old and still-enduring skies, [shoot
While the low violet thrives at their root.
3 But thou, beneath the sad and heavy line
Of death, doth waste all senseless, cold, and dark; Where not so much as dreams of light may shine,
Nor any thought of greenness, leaf, or bark.
4 And yet, as if some deep hate and dissent,
Bred in thy growth betwixt high winds and thee, Were still alive, thou dost great storms resent,
Before they come, and know'st how near they be.
5 Else all at rest thou liest, and the fierce breath
Of tempests can no more disturb thy ease; But this thy strange resentment after death
Means only those who broke in life thy peace. 6 So murdered man, when lovely life is done,
And his blood freezed, keeps in the centre still Some secret sense, which makes the dead blood run
At his approach that did the body kill.
7 And is there any murderer worse than sin?
Or any storms more foul than a lewd life? Or what resentient can work more within · Than true remorse, when with past sins at strife?
8 He that hath left life's vain joys and vain care,
And truly hates to be detained on earth,
And keeps his soul unto eternal mirth.
9 But though thus dead unto the world, and ceased
From sin, he walks a narrow, private way;
And all his life a rainy, weeping day.
10 For though he should forsake the world, and live
As mere a stranger as men long since dead;
To think he should be so long vainly led.
11 But as shades set off light, so tears and grief,
Though of themselves but a sad blubbered story, By showing the sin great, show the relief
Far greater, and so speak my Saviour's glory.
12 If my way lies through deserts and wild woods,
Where all the land with scorching heat is cursed; Better the pools should flow with rain and floods
To fill my bottle, than I die with thirst.
13 Blest showers they are, and streams sent from above;
Begetting virgins where they use to flow;
Than upper springs, and none else make them grov:.
14 But these chaste fountains flow not till we die.
Some drops may fall before; but a clear spring
And ever running, till we leave to fling
He that is dead is freed from sin.'— Rom. vi. 7.
Of your Deliverer comes,
Shall yet to man appear,
When the bright Dove,
Hath kept above,
Shall with spread wings
Oh, then, that I
Scattered each where;
And sure it is not far!
So by all signs
Towards old Mamre and Eshcol's brook.
For surely he
4 Faith sojourned first on earth in you,
You were the dear and chosen stock: The arm of God glorious and true,
Was first revealed to be your rock.
5 You were the eldest child, and when
Your stony hearts despised love,
Were cheered your jealousy to move.
6 Thus, righteous Father! dost thou deal
With brutish men; thy gifts go round By turns, and timely, and so heal
The lost son by the newly found.
PALM=SUNDAY. i Come, drop your branches, strew the way,
Plants of the day! Whom sufferings make most green and gay. The King of grief, the Man of sorrow, Weeping still like the wet morrow, Your shades and freshness comes to borrow,
2 Put on, put on your best array;
Let the joyed road make holyday,
3 Trees, flowers, and herbs; birds, beasts, and
For here comes he
Whose death will be Man's life, and your full liberty.
4 Hark! how the children shrill and high
In a bright ring:
Makes heaven and earth
5 The barmless, young, and happy ass,
(Seen long before this came to pass,) Is in these joys a high partaker, Ordained and made to bear his Maker.
6 Dear Feast of Palms, of flowers and dew!
Whose fruitful dawn sheds hopes and lights; Thy bright solemnities did shew
The third glad day through two sad nights.
I'li get me up before the sun,
I'll cut me boughs off many a tree,
* Zechariah iz 9.