Classic Poem

Death! dost thou difficult us now to know,
If as a friend thou strik'st, or as a foe?
A foe, in cutting off the best of seers?
Or friend, in sparing him till full of years?
What! shall regard to thee, O death, be giv'n?
Thou'rt but a servant to the nods of Heav'n;
Which did not criminals on earth provoke,
They'd neither fear thy late nor sudden stroke.
Thy Lord was once for us to thee submiss,
To him our humble answer due is this,
“'Tis we, 'tis we that sin away our bliss.”
But how, O how has Scotland anger'd Heav'n
And what offence anew has Stirling giv'n?
What bold transgressions and heav'n-daring crimes,
Have broke out fierce in these debauched times?
That we should live to see Heav'n's lifted hand
Thus pulling down the pillars of the land,
The supports of the church, and by their fall,
The godly fabric made a bowing wall.
So many cedar-beams from Lebanon,
And stately rafters of our house are gone,
As threaten ruin to succeed anon.
Great H AMILTON among the sacred tribe,
An able prob, a well instructed scribe,
Was zealous, firm, and faithful unto death;
No nominal defender of the faith:
But with undaunted courage did contend
'Gainst blasphemies and error to his end;
No combatant for truth more skill'd than he,
Was set for the defence of gospel purity.
He evidenc'd to learn'd and knowing men,
Both by his tongue, his pulpit, and his pen,
His insight into truth's abyss was great,
And vastly deep beyond the common rate.
Yea, famous men of arts have felt the skill
And conq'ring edge of his well-pointed quill.
His eyes diffus'd a venerable grace;
And piety itself was in his face.
Sweetness of temper soften'd all he spoke;
He bore his great commission in his look.
He taught the gospel rather than the law;
And forc'd himself to drive, but lov'd to draw.
With eloquence innate his soul was arm'd;
Learning and grace combining jointly charm'd.
His view of ev'ry sacred line was bright;
Each sermon was a lamp of gospel-light.
His care was first the malady to shew;
Next to present the remedy in view;
And then his powerful application bore
The healing plaster to the running sore.
He from Mount Sinai first did souls alarm;
And then with promises from Zion charm.
And thus whatever was the sacred text,
This was the plan, still plain and unperplex'd.
He shone 'bove others with superior light,
In clearing up his hearer's claim of right;
The gospel warrants and the grounds of faith,
Laid in the word, insur'd by J ESUS ' death,
And seal'd by baptism in their early breath.
Thus unbelief he of its shifts bereft,
And unbelievers all excuseless left.
His main concern was safely to embark
The drowning world into the saving ark.
He spread the news of rich and sov'reign grace,
Which glorious reigns through J ESUS ' righteousness;
That grace's cov'nant absolute and free
Might with the sinner's needy case agree.
At solemn work his help so sweet, so dear,
Was sought and got by brethren far and near,
To sacramental feasts he went his round,
And grac'd the tables with his joyful sound.
His church was long the little flock's resort;
His words could with their time and need comport;
And hence he could be long, he could be short.
His courteous carriage show'd his gen'rous mind:
Fond without fraud, and without flatt'ry kind.
His faith he prov'd beyond dim reason's ken,
By flaming zeal for God , and love to men.
Yet free of pride, his works he vilify'd;
Was always humble, always self-deny'd.
So much he others to himself preferr'd,
In charitable thoughts he chiefly err'd,
Till thence by open villanies detter'd,
Yet this we scarce can as a failure grant,
Which show'd in others, not in him the want,
Who prov'd himself in all respects a saint.
A skillful counsellor in each dark case:
A hearty sympathizer in distress,
Still warm his heart was with his words inlaid;
But mostly flaming when he preach'd or pray'd.
His frame was still divine, his words exact,
Saints heard the voice that did their hearts attract,
And angels listen'd while the charmer spake.
He duly watched his flock by night and day;
And from the prowling wolf redeem'd the prey.
Was ready still at hand without request,
To serve the sick, and succour the distrest.
The proud he tam'd, the patient he cheer'd,
Nor to reprove the rich offender fear'd.
He for a deep divine was known to all;
Yea, to a proverb evangelical,
C HRIST was the leading theme, whose righteousness
He publish'd as the only glorious dress;
The coat of mail to fence from top to toe,
Against the shot of death and future woe.
And while he sought proud nature to depress,
Exposing unto shame the sordidness
And dung of every specious legal dress;
Yet still he careful aim'd the way to chalk,
By gospel succours to a holy walk,
And shut the mouths that would but vainly talk.
And what he preach'd he in his practice wrought,
A living sermon of the truth he taught.
An holy, humble course of life he steer'd,
That all might see the doctrine which they heard,
At conversation affable and mild;
Nor with vain language were his lips defil'd:
Yea, gravity appear'd ev'n when he smil'd.
His presence grave did rev'rence great command,
And grave profound respect from ev'ry hand.
His very look could vanity reclaim;
His countenance put levity to shame:
Cheer drooping hearts of saints, and also make
The guilty conscience of the sinner quake.
He to the last laborious still remain'd;
Nor was he from his work by age restrain'd;
His weakness never made him give it o'er;
His willing mind did working strength restore.
What would have made some to their sick-beds creep,
Could never him out of his pulpit keep.
So prompt to teach, and preach, and pray, and praise,
His labour had an end but with his days.
Warm from his work he to his rest did move
And from his pulpit to his throne above.
But was it his intent to verify
What seem'd so false that Seraphims may die?
Sure, could they die at all, just so would they
All in a flame celestial mount away.
And now since he is gone, be this our strife,
Just so to live, and so to end our life.