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Note: This text has been automatically extracted via Optical Character Recognition (OCR) software. The text has not been manually corrected and should not be relied on to be an accurate representation of the item.
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if I could return when all were gone , and wander through its untended shades , I trust I should feel a thoughtful rejoicing in each record of past conflicts , and a solemn gratitude that the passing struggles of an earlier existence are appointed but as an introduction to the vast and indestructible privileges of a maturer state . r
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They speak of thee in festal halls , O wild and fearful dream ! The solemn thoughts thy name recalls are quench'd in mirth's full stream ; But thou hast terrors for the bad , and sad things for the best , Enough to stir up deepest strife in every mortal breast .
It may be false , —that whisper'd tale , —which told that thou wert nigh ; Another and a gentler voice may call us hence to die ; Enough , that still thy giant arm , uncrippled in its force , Pursues uncheck'd its deadly work , nor yet hath stay'd its course . Yet come not , come not to our Isle , our unsought guest to be , Ere soften d hearts and souls subdued can welcome even thee :
Come not , if come , dread scourge ! thou must , ere calm resolves have place , Ere rashness yields to Christian trust , and friends , once foes , embrace . They that for riches , long and late , their ceaseless labours ply , O grant them yet one Sabbath-day to lay their burdens by : Give pause for grasping , human love to purify its dross , For weakest souls to seek above new strength to bear the cross .
Pause for the soul to garner up its never-dying things , The love that " blossoms in the dust , " the life from death that springs-, To stand , as on some lofty mound , and count ita legions o'er , By God ' s own hand immortal mark'd , beyond the tyrant ' s pow ' r . And what if then thy rushing wing sweep rapid o ' er the deep , And Death , thy faithful follower , o ' ertake us as a sleep ? If human pride and human strife , and all that evil host , Be swept before thee , as a flood , O what will earth have lost ?
What shall remain ? The beautiful , the lofty , and the pure ;—In their own deathless essence left , ' mid every storm secure : Thou mayst dissolve the mortal frame that check'd a spirit free ; Well , take that earthly covering then—the rest is not for thee .
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Q 90 " The Pestilence that walketh at Noon-day . "
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" THE PESTILENCE THAT WALKETH AT NOON-DAY . "
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K ,
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Citation
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Monthly Repository (1806-1838) and Unitarian Chronicle (1832-1833), Oct. 2, 1831, page 690, in the Nineteenth-Century Serials Edition (2008; 2018) ncse.ac.uk/periodicals/mruc/issues/vm2-ncseproduct2602/page/38/
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