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His public spirit was of such a pitch,
That few ia zeal for God were found fo rich.
So valt the treasure in this earthen cup;
Zeal for his Matter's house did eat him up.
To whatsoever place he did repair,
His converte was a constant preaching there.
In house or field, this antipode of floath
For gaining fouls, fpent foul and body both :
For, like lis LORD, whose service was his food,
He went about for ever doing good.
Still at his Master's work, fill at his motion;
A constant miracle of clofe devotion.
Mounting the pulpit from his secret bow'r,
He pray'd with divine pith, and preach'd with pow'r.
Faithful to all men, in their several places,
He neither spar'd their faults, nor fear'd their faces.
This minifterial grace to him was given
To leave on many hearts a feal of heaven,
Yet still his humble mind shun'd airy fame;
Pursu'd the merit, but refus'd the name :
His self-drain'd foul delpis’d opinion's blaze;
He fought the virtue bot disclaim'd the praise :
He all the glory to his God did yield,
And crown'd fair Grace the empress of the field.
Ah! here is but the name of that fair faiot;
We have his image, but himself we want.
He hath the crown indeed, but we the cross :
He finds the gain; but we, alas! the lofs.
Death broke the cage to let the sparrow fly,
Which now hath fuund a house, a neilt on high,
Even God's own altars to eternity.
Our Sudom now may fear the storm anon,
When Lot is to his wished Zoar gone.
Gop doth sometimes first crop the sweetest flow'r,
And leaves the weeds till tempelts then devour.
So ripe is vice, fo green is virtue's bud,
The world doch wax in ill, but wain in good,
And Noah's to his ark: we fear a flood.
This happy foul is now above the storm,
Fixt on his rock, with saints of highest form;
For while his vellel past the troubled ocean,
He sail'd from strength to strength with swiftest motion,
Till on Immanuel's land he came a-fhore,
The place to which he sent his heart before.
Such was his holy life, as now refolv'd,
Which by a happy death was thus difflv'd.
As lumps of sugar lose themselves and twine
Their souple ellence in the fp'rit of wine :
So he in death did sweetly melt away,
As doth the dawn into the rising day:
Aurora fair must vail her rosy face
When brighter Phæbus occupies her place :
So he ; when glory rose in room of grace.
His death not differ'd from this life of his,
Nor the conclufion form the premises.
His death-bed prov'd a little paradise,
And ulber'd in with halellujahs thrice.
He, (in his sweeming over Jordan river)
Began to fing as now he shall for ever ;
For there he sang before he went a-lhore,
A triple victory for evermore :
Dull earth could scarce endure his holy noise,
While he did antidate his future joys.
Some saw his happy exit, unto whom
He told of Cherubs sent to guard him home :
And thus his better part was wafted o'er
With prelibations of his endless glore.
Could we now hear this blessed harper play
His hallelujahs; sweetly might he say,
Rue not my death, rejoice at my repose,
The bud was op'ned to let forth the rose.
It was no death to me, but to my wo,
The chain was loos’d to let the captive go.
From crufs to crown, from thrall to throne I went,
And now I reign; I sing with full content,
Lo! here I ret; and here I love to be,
Where I enjoy more than my faith could see.
I preach'd the gl ry which I now behold;
But, lo! the thousandth part was never told.
I got a taste below, but now above,
I forage in the verdant fields of love.
On earth, my faith stole down a diftant kifs ;
But now my love cleaves to the cheek of bliss.
Lament not my decease, as your mishap,
When I so gladly rest in glory's lap,
Weep not that death did me from death deliver,
Nor grieve as for a loss; I'm won for ever.
I fought, I wrestled there, from whence I came ;
I joy, I triumph here, where now I am.
On earth I long'd to see my Jesus dear;
Behold! I sought him there, and find him here.
In galleries of joy, in white I walk,
Mong worthy wights, of whom I once did talk.
I see this glorious King in whom I boast,
Upon the head of this triumphant hoft.
With this seraphic quire I join on high,
To warble notes of praise eternally ;
Glory to God that ever here I came,
And glory, glory, glory to the Lamb:
My light, my life, my strength, my joy, my all,
Is now within mine arms, and ever shall.
My glorious Lord is mine, and I am his;
I'm like him, for I see him as he is :
No darkness vails him now, no dismal night,
No cloud, no vapour intercepts his light.
I fee, I fee for ever face to face
The brightest beauty in the brightest place.
Thus might he say; but, ah! we seem too bold;
Can Heav'n's unutterable joys be told !
There, there he dwells ; earth was so low a place,
For him to view his Saviour's comely face,
That with Zaccheus from the lower story, .
He graspt the branch, and climbid the tree of glory.
O may we trace his steps, with one accord,
And imitate him, as he did his Lord !
For ftill his hope, his joy, his aim was this,
To live, to love, to be where now he is.
E L E G I A C
р о Е M,
To the Memory of the pious and painful, learned and eminent
Servant of CHRIST,
The Reverend Mr. ALEXANDER HAMILTON,
Late Minister of the Gospel at STIRLING;
Who Died January 29. 1738. Aged 75,
Written at the desire of some of his Friends.
Principium vitæ mors eft, fic itur ad oftra,
Felix qui vivit qui moriturque Deo.
PART 1 His Character, qualifications, Manner of Preacbing, and
DEATH! doft thou difficult us now to know,
If as a friend thou strik'st, or as a foe?
A fue, in cutting off the best of leers ?
Or friend, in fparing him till full of years ?
What ! shall regard to thee, O death, be giv'n?
Thour't but a fervant to the nods of Heav'n ;
Which did not criminals on earth provoke,
They'd neither fear thy late nor sudden stroke.
Thy Lord was once for us to thee submiss,
To him our humble answer due is this,
“ 'Tis we, 'tis we that sin away our bliss.”
But how, O how has Scotland anger'd Heav'n!
And what offence anew has Stirling giv'n?
What bold transgressions and heav'n-daring crimes,
Have broke out fierce in these debauched times ?
That we should live to see Heav'n's lifted hand
Thus pulling down the pillars of the land,
The supports of the church, and by their fall,
The godly fabric made a bowing wall,
So many cedar-beams from Lebanon,
And stately rafters of our house are gone,
As threaten ruin to succeed anon.
Great Hamilton among the sacred tribe,
An able prop, a well instructed fcribe,
Was zealous, firm, and faithful unto death;
No nominal defender of the faith :
But with undaunted courage did contend
'Gainst blasphemies and error to his end;
No combatant for truth more skill'd than he,
Was set for the defence of gospel-purity.
He evidenc'd to learn’d and knowing men,
Both by his tongue, his pulpit, and his pen,
His inlight into truth's abyss was great,
And vastly deep beyond the common ratę.
Yea, famous men of arts have felt the skill
And conqu’ring edge of his well-pointed quill.
His eyes diffus'd a venerable grace ;
And piety itself was in his face.
Sweetness of temper foften'd all he spoke ;
He bore his great commission in his look.
He taught the gospel. rather than the law;
And forc'd himself to drive, but lov'd to draw.
ON, With eloquence innate his soul was arm'd;
2 Learning and grace combining jointly charm'd.
His view of every sacred line, was bright;
Each sermon was a lamp of gospel-light.
His care was first the malady to shew; ;
Next to present the remedy in view;
And then his powerful application bore
The healing plaister to the running fore.
He from Mount Sinai first did fouls alarm;
And then with promises from Zion charm.
And thus whatever was the facred text,
This was the plan, still plain and unperplex'd.
He thone 'bove others with fuperior light, nes; In clearing up his hearers claim of right;
The gospel warrants and the grounds of faith,
Laid in the word, insur'd by Jesus' death,
And seald by baptism in their early breath.