The Portland Gazette

FOR THE PORTLAND GAZETTE.

The Voice from the Grave.

There's a voice loudly calling on man to awake:
On man who inhabits this dark vale of tears,
It calls on the sinner his sins to forsake,
It calls on the christian to banish his tears.
It addresses the younger the decrepit with years;
It addresses the monarch, the menial, the slave:
O! that each one may hear—and obey as he hears;
The summons it brings—
Tis the voice from the Grave.

"Ye foolish and simple, ye thoughtless and gay,
Who the best of your moments in folly consume,
Ye great and ye wealthy, whose lives wear away
In pursuit of those bubbles which burst on the tomb,
Think not that these joys will continue to bloom;
Think not that your riches your souls can e'er save;
Soon, ah soon, you'll be call'd to inherit your doom
When you'll sleep in the dust"—
Says the voice from the Grave.

"O ye happy, ye faithful, ye chosen, ye few.
Who delight to obey your Redeemer's command,
Who wish not the joys of this world to pursue,
Since you know that there's peace but in Canaan's land—
Go on—be united—a brotherly band,
In the service of him who his life for you gave;
And when at the bar of your judge you shall stand,
He'll delight in his seed"—
Says the voice from the Grave.

O listen, ye thoughtless, obey and be blest;
Tis the warning of friendship that danger is nigh:
O banish the hope of delusion your breast,
Look only for peace, where it dwells, in the sky.
Ye happy, whose treasure is laid up on high,
Who undaunted are toss'd on adversity's wave:
Let your faith be unmoved—on your Saviour rely,
And listen with joy to
The voice from the Grave.

CONSTANTIUS.