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THE SCEPTIC.


Goes forth, and bears to myriads life or death!
Look on us, guide us!—wanderers of a sea
Wild and obscure, what are we, reft of Thee?
A thousand rocks, deep-hid, elude our sight,
A star may set—and we are lost in night;
A breeze may waft us to the whirlpool's brink,
A treacherous song allure us—and we sink!

    Oh! by His love, who, veiling Godhead's light,
To moments circumscribed the Infinite,
And heaven and earth disdain'd not to ally
By that dread union—Man with Deity;
Immortal tears o'er mortal woes who shed,
And, ere he raised them, wept above the dead;
Save, or we perish!—Let Thy word control
The earthquakes of that universe—the soul;
Pervade the depths of passion; speak once more
The mighty mandate, guard of every shore,
"Here shall thy waves be stay’d"—in grief, in pain,
The fearful poise of reason's sphere maintain,
Thou, by whom suns are balanced!—thus secure
In Thee shall Faith and Fortitude endure:
Conscious of Thee, unfaltering, shall the just
Look upward still, in high and holy trust,
And by affliction guided to Thy shrine,
The first, last thought of suffering hearts be Thine.

    And oh! be near when, clothed with conquering power,
The King of Terrors claims his own dread hour:
When on the edge of that unknown abyss,
Which darkly parts us from the realm of bliss,