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