Recollections of Windsor Prison Part 18

Around his throne in glory It wakes immortal song, And rolls its boundless ocean Eternity along.

In all my wand'rings from Him, This mercy held me up, And in my hours of sorrow Pour'd nectar in my cup.

And when that stingless pleasure Which satisfies the mind, Thro' devious paths _forbidden_, I'd rov'd in vain to find;

His Spirit linger'd round me, And prompted my return, And with a sense of pardon Inspir'd my heart to burn.

O! love, all thought transcending!

Love, boundless as the sea!

Encircling every creature, Throughout eternity!

On this I'll dwell for ever, Nor sigh for freedom more-- My heart, my tongue--all nature, This boundless love adore!

My heart shall be a temple Of never ceasing praise, And ev'ry morn and evening Repeat the gladsome lays.

O! thou great Source of being, In whom alone I live, Accept my heart; tho' sinful, 'Tis all a wretch can give.

Forgive the plaintive numbers, Which held my harp so long, And bless the _resignation_ Which crowns my gloomy song.

DESCRIPTION OF HEAVEN BY AN INHABITANT OF A DUNGEON.

On gloomy themes let others dwell, And sing the miseries of h.e.l.l; My cheerful muse prefers to paint The future glories of the saint.

High on a mount of purest light, To which the clearest noon is night, Whose top no angel wing can soar, Nor keen-eyed seraph glance explore.--

Above the reach of rolling spheres, Which mark our little circling years, In awful grandeur, reigns our G.o.d, And rules creation with his rod.

Twelve legion angels, throned around, His lofty praise, in thunder sound, And stooping from their jewelled seat, Cast down their honors at his feet.

These, ever ready to fulfil The dictates of his sovereign will, Are winged for flight, and, at his voice, To execute his word, rejoice.

In dignity above the rest, With diamond mail and flaming crest, The Angel of his presence stands, To execute his high commands.

Round, farther than from central light To where the comets end their flight, In ever blooming beauty lies, The glorious Eden of the skies.

There swell huge Alps, uncapped with snow; Through fertile realms broad Danubes flow; And cheerful brook meandering twines Around celestial Apennines.

There hills of emerald are seen, And damask vales, that smile between, And all the beauties of the sky In elegant a.s.semblage lie.

There too the chrystal mirror lake, By zephyrs kissed, in every wake, Presents to pleased angelic eyes Reflected scenes of earth and skies.

There, on a towering height, sublime, The Lebanon of heavenly clime, Where pleasure lives, where rapture glows, The cedar spreads its princely boughs.

There fragrant Carmel's flowery grove, Where seraphs tune their harps of love, On playful breeze diffuses round, Its spicy breath and tuneful sound.

There Sharon's rose, without a thorn, Serenely bright with gems of morn, On verdant tree majestic towers, And smiling reigns, the queen of flowers.

Down by a sweetly-flowing rill, Where pure celestial dews distil, The lilies, clothed with beauty, rise, And bloom beneath cerulean skies.

There, raining nectar from its boughs, The tree of life immortal grows; And streams of bliss, 'mid holy song, Roll their mellifluent waves along.

No winter's frost or winter's snow-- No blight these scenes of beauty know; No change revolving seasons bring, For all is one eternal spring.

O! how unlike this world below, Where all is blight, and death, and wo!

Where night, _dark night_, eternal reigns, And grief in every house complains!

There, far above created height, Reigns the dear Son of G.o.d's delight; A man of sorrows once--but now A G.o.d to whom archangels bow.

A sh.o.r.eless sea of heavenly beams Around his sacred person gleams; By merit raised, by virtue tried, Exalted at his Father's side.

An emerald bow his head adorns, That blessed head once crowned with thorns!

His feet like burning gold; his face A sun of glory and of grace.

Robes whiter than unfallen snow Down to his feet divinely flow, Unstained with blood.--Before him now No murderous priests reviling bow.

Around his waist a golden zone Proclaims his t.i.tle to the throne; And in his hands, with sceptre graced, The keys of death and h.e.l.l are placed.

There dwell creation's elder sons, Those high, those blessed, those holy ones, Who, when this earth from chaos rolled, Exulting struck their harps of gold.

In their exalted spheres, divine, Like suns they move, like suns they shine; And other lights, though glorious, seem Lost in the radiance of their beam.

Nearest the sacred throne they sing, And strike the sweetest, loudest string; Thus eminent above the rest, They lead the concert of the blessed.

There dwell the ransomed of the Lord, Who loved to keep his holy word; Washed in his blood from every stain, With him eternally they reign.

They loved him here, and all his ways, They loved to speak his name in praise, They loved to do his righteous will, And all his purposes fulfil.

And now, supremely blest above, Encircled in his arms of love, He wipes the tear from every face, And crowns the children of his grace.

All grief is past, they sigh no more, But live to worship and adore; Around that blissful world they rove, Amid the smiles of deathless love.

Roll on, Eternity, thy years, Around the vast celestial spheres!

Thou bringst no change but new delight, And scenes of joy forever bright.

AN APPEAL TO CHRISTIANS IN BEHALF OF STATE PRISONERS.

(_Extract from a Sermon._)

"COME OVER INTO MACEDONIA AND HELP US."

Acts xvi. 9.

"Glorious displays of heavenly mercy to lost and perishing mankind, and a missionary spirit, warm and pure as the altar from which it descended, and circ.u.mscribed in its holy purposes only by the broad limits of creation, are the great and delightful landmarks of the present age. The apocalyptic angel that was seen flying through the midst of heaven, having the Everlasting Gospel to preach to every nation, and kindred, and tongue, and people, is still spreading his golden wings, and proclaiming with a loud voice, "Fear G.o.d and give glory to Him, and worship Him who made heaven and earth." The sacred era of the apostles has again dawned upon the earth, and the servants of Christ are beginning to feel the broad import of their commission to "go into all the world and preach the gospel to every creature."

Impelled by its sacred influence, they have gone out by hundreds--they are wafted by every wind of heaven; they are borne on the waves of every sea, ocean, and river; and their foot-prints are visible in the dust and snow drifts of every clime. A light that gladdens the earth and shines to heaven, denotes the windings of their pilgrimage, and the freshness and beauty of Paradise in the midst of the desert, point out the places of their abode. Every where is verified to them the promise of their ascended Lord, "Lo I am with you always even unto the end of the world;" and even "devils are subject to them through his name." O! in what felicitous times are we permitted to live! Surely an undevout reader of missionary annals must be mad indeed. How truly may what Nicodemus said to Christ be applied to the whole noiseless army of missionary champions; "No man can do these" wonders, "which"

they do, "except G.o.d be with him." And by what an irresistible inference does the success of modern missionaries a.s.sociate both their _cause_ and their _labours_ with the approbation of heaven. From the midst of that golden cloud which embosoms the sacred throne, and softens the brightness of the Eternal to created vision, I hear a voice to these faithful friends of the Almighty, saying--"Servants of G.o.d! well done!" What a strong inducement is this to the friends of missions, to persevere in this celestial enterprise with redoubled efforts and increasing expectations: and how certain is it, that in due season they will reap, if they faint not.

The field of missionary labour is the world, and every part of it must be cultivated. In many places, harvests, broad and rich, are seen by those myriads of seraphs, who, in ministering to the heirs of salvation, are constantly pa.s.sing and repa.s.sing from heaven to earth.

But by far the greater part of this field is still barren and untouched by any culturing hand, and its famishing and dying inhabitants are constantly sending out to christian communities the Macedonian cry of--"Come and help us;" and this cry, like an angel's voice, has sunken deep into many hearts, and inspired them with a sympathetic interest which cannot die till its object is accomplished.

I congratulate the world that such an interest has been excited. It promises much; it awakens the most delightful hopes; and it is not to _divide_, but to _enlarge_ it, that I appear before this respected a.s.sembly, as a messenger from the most dark and hopeless part of this field of blight and desolation, to say to you, in behalf of my brethren; "Come and help us also." The place from which I have come is a _prison_, and _prisoners_ are my brethren, whose cause I am going to plead.

In calling your attention to these all-gloomy places, and to these neglected sinners, may I not be permitted to say, that _prisons_ and _prisoners_ are inseparably interwoven with the history and doctrines of the gospel. The Captain of our salvation, though Lord of all, was once a _prisoner_ at Pilate's bar; and though all-innocent, was condemned by Herod as a _criminal_, and expired on a _cross_. Of this same Being it is declared that he despiseth none of his _prisoners_, but looseth them, and by the blood of the covenant, sendeth them out of the pit wherein is no water. By his spirit he preached through Zechariah to those _captives_, who hung their harps on the willows and wept at the recollection of Zion, this affecting but cheering sermon--"Turn ye, turn ye to the strong hold, ye _prisoners_ of hope."

In the same spirit he also went and "preached to the spirits in _prison_, which sometime were disobedient." In fine, benevolence to the lost is the spirit of Jesus, and good-will to mankind irrespectively, is the genius of his gospel. Moved then by the inspiration of Christ and his doctrines, I cheerfully and confidently antic.i.p.ate the interested attention of all christians, while I paint the moral and spiritual dearth of our State Prisons, and plead with you to send thither the fertilizing streams of eternal life; nor will I fear, for a moment, that there is in this congregation, either a _Sanballat_ or a _Tobiah_, to be exceedingly grieved that a man is come, to seek the _welfare of captives_.

I bring this subject, my Christian Friends, before _you_, and I urge it upon your attention, because it is by a community of which you form a valuable part, that the work must be done, if done at all. I bring it before christians, _exclusively_, before the _church of Christ_ which he purchased with his own blood; it is before _you_ that I roll the claims of your perishing fellow mortals; and, identifying myself with them, I say to you on their behalf, "Come and help us." Where else under heaven can we look but to _you_? Who will pity us, if _you_ will not? Who will bring us the messages of salvation, if _you_ refuse? We ask not for _liberty_ nor _earthly comforts_; we are contented with our _homely meals_ and our _beds of straw_; with these _glooms_, these _dungeons_, and these _fetters_; but we want that freedom with which _Christ_ makes free; we want to feel the warming beams of the Sun of Righteousness, and eat the bread and drink the water of eternal life. Such is the voice which is this moment falling on your ears from the deep and gloomy recesses of the prison-house, and permit me to urge your immediate attention to it from the following considerations:

1. Should your pious labors be blessed to the reformation of any part of these offenders, _not only will they become happy in the enjoyment of virtue and religion, but a very great service will also be rendered to society_.