Classic Poem

I Join'd in Company one Day,
Within a useful Cart,
A Youth serene, his Temper mild,
A Maiden tall and smart.

Another Maid, tho' somewhat short,
No envy filled her breast,
Ne'er seem'd displeased, tho' every one
Her Sister more caress'd.

What tho' it rain'd, it matter'd not,
We did a Cover find;
So here I'll turn my Verse and Thoughts
According to my Mind.

My Saviour is a Hiding-place,
In Scripture this does stand;
The Shadow of a mighty Rock,
Tho' in in a weary Land.

We soon a River here did pass;
The Water was so clear,
We saw the Fish before us Swim,
Yet had no cause to fear.

The Youth had often past that way.
He was to us a Guide;
By Providence, and proper care,
We cross'd the other Side.

Why should I not, then, here remark
That upon the left Hand
There does, and has for many Years,
I think, a Trembler stand.

Which does no intermission know,
But trembles Night and Day;
Yet none did any Pity show
That ever pass'd that Way.

Belshazzar proud did tremble too,
His Knees together smote;
When he a Hand saw on the Wall,
The Words are thus it wrote.

“You weighed in the Balance are,
And wanting found to be;”
Unto the Saviour may I look,
When this is said of me!

But now we rode o'er Hills and Dales,
And so pass'd on our Way;
'Till we came to a Farmer's House,—
Amongst the Woods it lay.

Just at the bottom of a Hill,
Yet on a rising Ground;
Where from the Window you may view
The pleasant Country round.

And now I'll of the Farmer tell,
For we had Farmer's fare;
Upon the Table, then, was set
Beef, Pudding, Bread, and Beer.

When at the Table we agreed,
Altho' the Grass was wet;
That all should to the Garden go,
Their own Desert to get.

Where Peaches, Nectarines, Apricots,
The Garden Wall did grace,
Health blooming in the Countenance,
Adds Pleasure to the Place.

Sure here it was that Freedom reign'd,
The Farmer was not wed;
And every one but me was Young,—
And I a hoary Head.

But yet I join'd in chearful chat,
Religion set us right:
This was the Farmer's fav'rite theme,
In which he did delight.

So then we had some useful talk,
His Servant got us Tea;
Then all of us must needs go up,
The Chambers for to see.

Where from the Windows we could view
The Meadows that were Green;
Here Oxen frequently did feed,
And Rivers glide between.

And here are Places still remain
Where Men oft walk in White,
But sure it is in Yellow that
They chiefly take delight.

Yet often these are heard to make
The tender Babe to cry;
The Father will not spare his Son,—
The Mother seldom by.

And with their Faces to the East,
Are Men laid down quite mute;
That if you even tread on them,
They'll rise to no dispute.

But in the Scripture, thus it stands,
Upon a certain Day
The Moment that the Trumpet sound,
They'll rise, and come away.

So will they rise to endless Joys,
Or everlasting Pain;
But stop,—this is an aweful Thought,
I too must rise again.

I hope to be in Jesus found,
What can I wish for more?
For to the Body Christ will come,
Salvation to restore.

But as the Day-light disappear'd,
We all return'd again,
With Pleasure to this useful Cart,
And drove home in the Rain.