| |
| WHILE an intrinsic ardor prompts to write, | |
| The muses promise to assist my pen; | |
| ’Twas not long since I left my native shore | |
| The land of errors, and Egyptian gloom: | |
| Father of mercy, ’twas thy gracious hand | 5 |
| Brought me in safety from those dark abodes. | |
| |
| Students, to you ’tis giv’n to scan the heights | |
| Above, to traverse the ethereal space, | |
| And mark the systems of revolving worlds. | |
| Still more, ye sons of science ye receive | 10 |
| The blissful news by messengers from heav’n, | |
| How Jesus’ blood for your redemption flows. | |
| See him with hands out-stretcht upon the cross; | |
| Immense compassion in his bosom glows; | |
| He hears revilers, nor resents their scorn: | 15 |
| What matchless mercy in the Son of God! | |
| When the whole human race by sin had fall’n, | |
| He deign’d to die that they might rise again, | |
| And share with him in the sublimest skies, | |
| Life without death, and glory without end. | 20 |
| |
| Improve your privileges while they stay, | |
| Ye pupils, and each hour redeem, that bears | |
| Or good or bad report of you to heav’n. | |
| Let sin, that baneful evil to the soul, | |
| By you be shunn’d, nor once remit your guard; | 25 |
| Suppress the deadly serpent in its egg. | |
| Ye blooming plants of human race divine, | |
| An Ethiop tells you ’tis your greatest foe; | |
| Its transient sweetness turns to endless pain, | |
| And in immense perdition sinks the soul. | 30 |
| |
