Caft to the deep I fell, by thy command,
Caft in the midft, beyond the reach of land;
Then to the midft brought down, the feas abide
Beneath my feet, the seas on every fide;
In ftorms the billow, and in calms the wave,
Are moving coverings to my wandering grave.
Forc'd by defpair, I cry'd, How to my coft
I fled thy prefence, Oh, for ever loft !
But hope revives my foul, and makes me fay,
Yet tow'rds thy temple shall I turn and pray ;
Or, if I know not here where Salem lies,
Thy temple's heaven, and faith has inward eyes.
Alas! the waters, which my whale furround,
Have through my forrowing foul a paffage found;
And now the dungeon moves, new depths I try,
New thoughts of danger all his paths fupply.
The last of deeps affords the last of dread,
And wraps
its funeral weeds around my head:
Now o'er the fand his rollings feem to go,
Where the big mountains root their base below;
And now to rocks and clefts their course they take,
Earth's endless bars, too ftrong for me to break;
Yet, from th' abyfs, my God! thy grace divine
Hath call'd him upward, and my life is mine.
Still, as I tofs'd, I scarce retain'd my breath,
My foul was fick within, and faint to death.
'Twas then I thought of thee, for pity pray'd,
And to thy temple flew the prayers I made.
The men, whom lying vanity enfnares,
Forfake thy mercy, that which might be theirs.
But I will pay-my God! my King! receive
The folemn vows my full affection gave,
When in thy temple, for a psalm, I fing
Salvation only from my God, my king.
Thus ends the Prophet; firft from Canaan fent, To let the Gentiles know they must repent:
God hears, and speaks; the Whale, at God's command,
Heaves to the light, and cafts him forth to land.
With long fatigue, with unexpected eafe,
Opprefs'd a while, he lies afide the feas;
His eyes, though glad, in ftrange aftonifh'd way
Stare at the golden front of chearful day;
Then, flowly rais'd, he fees the wonder plain,
And what he pray'd, he wrote, to fing again.
The fong recorded brings his vow to mind;
He must be thankful, for the Lord was kind;
Strait to the work he fhunn'd he flies in hafte
(That feems his vow, or feems a part at least);
Preaching he comes, and thus denounc'd to all,
Yet forty days, and Nineveh shall fall.
Fear feiz'd the Gentiles, Nineveh believes;
All faft with penitence, and God forgives.
Nor yet of use the Prophet's fuffering fails,
Hell's deep black bofom more than fhews the Whale's,
But some resemblance brings a type to view,
The place was dark, the time proportion'd too.
A race, the Saviour cries, a finful race,
Tempts for a fign the powers of heavenly grace,
And let them take the fign: as Jonah lay,
Three days and nights within the fish of prey;
So fhall the Son of Man defcend below,
Earth's opening entrails shall retain him fo.
My foul, now feek the song, and find me there What Heaven has fhewn thee to repel despair; See, where from Hell fhe breaks the crumbling ground, Her hairs ftand upright, and they ftare around; Her horrid front deep-trenching wrinkles trace, Lean fharpening looks deform her livid face; Bent lie the brows, and at the bend below, With fire and blood two wandering eye-balls glow; Fill'd are her arms with numerous aids to kill, And God fhe fancies but the judge of ill. Oh, fair-ey'd Hope! thou fee'ft the paffion nigh, Daughter of Promife, Oh forbear to fly! Affurance holds thee, Fear would have thee go, Close thy blue wings, and stand thy deadly foe; The Judge of Ill is ftill the Lord of Grace, As fuch behold him in the Prophet's cafe, Caft to be drown'd, devour'd within the fea, Sunk to the deep, and yet reftor'd to day. Oh, love the Lord, my foul, whose parent care So rules the world he punishes to fpare. If heavy grief my downcaft heart oppress, My body danger, or my ftate diftrefs, With low fubmiffion in thy temper bow, Like Jonah pray, like Jonah make thy vow; With hopes of comfort kiss the chastening rod, And, shunning mad despair, repofe in God; Then, whatsoe'er the Prophet's vow defign, Repentance, Thanks, and Charity, be mine.
FROM the bleak beach, and broad expanfe of sea, To lofty Salem, Thought, direct thy way; Mount thy light chariot, move along the plains, And end thy flight when Hezekiah reigns.
How swiftly Thought has pafs'd from land to land, And quite out-run Time's measuring-glafs of fand! Great Salem's walls appear, and I refort
To view the state of Hezekiah's court.
Well may that king a pious verse inspire, Who cleans'd the temple, who reviv'd the choir, Pleas'd with the fervice David fix'd before, That heavenly mufic might on earth adore. Deep-rob'd in white, he made the Levites stand With cymbals, harps, and pfalteries in their hand; He gave the priests their trumpets, prompt to raise The tuneful foul, by force of found, to praise. A skilful master for the song he chose, · The fongs were David's these, and Asaph's those; Then burns their offering, all around rejoice, Each tunes his inftrument to join the voice; The trumpets founded, and the fingers fung, The people worshipp'd, and the temple rung. Each, while the victim burns, presents his heart, Then the priest bleffes, and the people part.
Hail! facred Mufic! fince you know to draw The foul to heaven, the spirit to the law,
I come to prove thy force, thy warbling string
May tune my foul to write what others fing.
But is this Salem? this the promis'd bliss,
These fighs and groans? what means the realm by this?
What folemn forrow dwells in every ftreet?
What fear confounds the downcaft looks I meet?
Alas! the king! whole nations fink with woe,
When righteous kings are fummon'd hence to go;
The king lies fick; and thus, to speak his doom,
The Prophet, grave Isaiah, stalks the room:
Oh, Prince, thy fervant, fent from God, believe;
Set all in order, for thou canst not live.
Solemn he said, and fighing left the place;
Deep prints of horror furrow'd every face;
Within their minds appear eternal glooms,
Black gaping marbles of their monarchs' tombs ;
A king belov'd deceas'd, his offspring none,
And wars deftructive, ere they fix the throne.
Strait to the wall he turn'd, with dark despair,
('Twas tow'rds the temple, or for private prayer,)
And thus to God the pious monarch spoke,
Who burn'd the groves, the brazen ferpent broke :
Remember, Lord, with what a heart for right,
What care for truth, I walk'd within thy fight.
'Twas thus with terror, prayers, and tears, he toss'd,
When the mid-court the grave Ifaiah cross'd,
Whom, in the cedar columns of the fquare,
Meets a sweet Angel, hung in glittering air.
Seiz'd with a trance, he ftopp'd, before his eye
Clears a rais'd arch of vifionary sky,
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