Night thoughts on life, death, and immortality. [Followed by] A paraphrase on part of the book of Job (Google eBook)

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Page 2 - The bell strikes one. We take no note of time But from its loss. To give it then a tongue Is wise in man. As if an angel spoke, I feel the solemn sound. If heard aright, It is the knell of my departed hours: Where are they? With the years beyond the flood It is the signal that demands despatch: How much is to be done!
Page 22 - Tis greatly wise to talk with our past hours And ask them, what report they bore to heaven ; And how they might have borne more welcome news.
Page 12 - And why ? Because he thinks himself immortal. All men think all men mortal, but themselves ; Themselves, when some alarming shock of fate Strikes through their wounded hearts the sudden dread : But their hearts wounded, like the wounded air, Soon close ; where pass'd the shaft, no trace is found. As from the wing no scar the sky retains ; The parted wave no furrow from the keel ; So dies in human hearts the thought of death : Even with the tender tear which Nature sheds O'er those we love, we drop...
Page 18 - The man who consecrates his hours By vigorous effort, and an honest aim, At once he draws the sting of life and death : He walks with nature ; and her paths are peace.
Page 185 - Some angel guide my pencil, while I draw, What nothing less than angel can exceed, A man on earth devoted to the skies; Like ships in seas, while in, above the world. With aspect mild, and elevated eye, Behold him seated on a mount serene, Above the fogs of sense, and passion's storm ; All the black cares and tumults of this life, Like harmless thunders, breaking at his feet, Excite his pity, not impair his peace.
Page 12 - As duteous sons, our fathers were more wise. At thirty man suspects himself a fool ; Knows it at forty, and reforms his plan ; At fifty chides his infamous delay, Pushes his prudent purpose to resolve ; In all the magnanimity of thought Resolves ; and re-resolves ; then dies the same. And why ? Because he thinks himself immortal. All men think all men mortal, but themselves ; Themselves, when some alarming shock of fate Strikes thro...
Page 3 - It is the signal that demands despatch: How much is to be done! My hopes and fears Start up alarmed, and o'er life's narrow verge Look down on what ? A fathomless abyss ! A dread eternity! How surely mine! And can eternity belong to me, Poor pensioner on the bounties of an hour?
Page 1 - From short (as usual) and disturb'd repose, I wake : how happy they, who wake no more ! Yet that were vain, if dreams infest the grave. I wake, emerging from a sea of dreams Tumultuous ; where my wreck'd desponding thought, From wave to wave of fancied misery, At random drove, her helm of reason lost.
Page 17 - To man's false optics (from his folly false) Time, in advance, behind him hides his wings, And seems to creep, decrepit with his age : Behold him, when past by ; what then is seen, But his broad pinions swifter than the winds? And all mankind, in contradiction strong, Rueful, aghast ! cry out on his career.
Page 38 - Smitten friends Are angels sent on errands full of love; For us they languish, and for us they die : And shall they languish, shall they die, in vain ? Ungrateful, shall we grieve their hovering shades Which wait the revolution in our hearts?

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