Grey-headed beadles walked before, with wands as white

as snow,

Till into the high dome of Paul's they like Thames waters flow.

Oh what a multitude they seemed, these flowers of London town!

Seated in companies they sit, with radiance all their own; The hum of multitudes was there, but multitudes of lambs,

Thousands of little boys and girls raising their innocent hands.

Now, like a mighty wind, they raise to heaven the voice of song,

Or like harmonious thunderings the seats of heaven

among;

Beneath them sit the aged men, wise guardians of the

poor,

Then cherish pity, lest you drive an angel from your

door.

CLXXXIV

W. BLAKE.

THE DAY OF JUDGEMENT

WHEN the fierce northwind with his airy forces
Rears up the Baltic to a foaming fury;

And the red lightning, with a storm of hail comes
Rushing amain down.

P

How the poor sailors stand amaz'd and tremble!
While the hoarse thunder, like a bloody trumpet,
Roars a loud onset to the gaping waters

Quick to devour them.

Such shall the noise be, and the wild disorder,
(If things eternal may be like these earthly)
Such the dire terror when the great Archangel
Shakes the creation;

Tears the strong pillars of the vault of Heaven,
Breaks up old marble, the repose of princes;
See the graves open, and the bones arising,

Flames all around them.

Hark, the shrill outcries of the guilty wretches!
Lively bright horror, and amazing anguish,

Stare through their eyelids, while the living worm lies
Gnawing within them.

Thoughts, like old vultures, prey upon their heart-strings,

And the smart twinges, when the eye beholds the
Lofty Judge frowning, and a flood of vengeance
Rolling afore him.

Hopeless immortals! how they scream and shiver
While devils push them to the pit wide-yawning,
Hideous and gloomy, to receive them headlong
Down to the centre.

Stop here, my fancy: (all away, ye horrid
Doleful ideas!) come, arise to Jesus,

How he sits God-like! and the saints around him

Thron'd, yet adoring!

O may
I sit there when He comes triumphant,
Dooming the nations! then ascend to glory,
While our hosannas all along the passage

Shout the Redeemer.

DR. I. WATTS.

CLXXXV

HOPE

SUN of the Soul! whose cheerful ray
Darts o'er this gloom of life a smile;
Sweet Hope, yet further gild my way,
Yet light my weary steps awhile,
Till thy fair lamp dissolve in endless day.

DR. J. LANGHORNE.

CLXXXVI

THE WORM

TURN, turn thy hasty foot aside,

Nor crush that helpless worm!

The frame thy scornful looks deride
Requir'd a God to form.

The common Lord of all that move,
From whom thy being flow'd,
A portion of His boundless love
On that poor worm bestow'd.

The sun, the moon, the stars He made
To all His creatures free:

And spreads o'er earth the grassy blade
For worms as well as thee.

Let them enjoy their little day,
Their lowly bliss receive;

O do not lightly take away

The life thou canst not give!

T. GISBORNE.

CLXXXVII

FATI VALET HORA BENIGNI

IN myriad swarms, each summer sun
An insect nation shows;

Whose being, since he rose begun,
And e'er he sets will close.

Brief is their date, confin'd their powers,
The fluttering of a day ;-

Yet life's worth living, e'en for hours,
When all those hours-are play.

S. BISHOP.

CLXXXVIII

INSCRIPTION ON A FOUNTAIN

O you, who mark what flowrets gay,
What gales, what odours breathing near,
What sheltering shades from summer's ray
Allure my spring to linger here:

Yet see me quit this margin green,
Yet see me deaf to pleasure's call,
Explore the thirsty haunts of men,
Yet see my bounty flow for all.

O learn of me-no partial rill,

No slumbering selfish pool be you;

But social laws alike fulfil;

O flow for all creation too!

E. LOVIBOND.

CLXXXIX

WRITTEN AT AN INN AT HENLEY

To thee, fair freedom! I retire

From flattery, cards, and dice, and din; Nor art thou found in mansions higher Than the low cot, or humble inn.