When the slow organ swells the lengthen'd note,
And heaven-born music pours from every throat;
When warm devotion breathes the fervent prayer,
And holy saints the pious rapture share;
When watchful slumbers stated minutes know,
And, waking, teach the ready knee to bow;
When Faith and Hope both animate the breast,
And habit's only made Religion's vest;
When strong conviction holds a steady light,
And clearly shows the vestal life is right;
When Conscience dictates the prompt will obeys,
And makes responses both to prayer and praise;
Is't then we taste the promis'd joys of heaven,
And trust, and feel, our every fault forgiven?
Not so! — my years o'er many a sand has run,
And still my sighs have counted one by one.
Still self-will'd thought would bear my soul away,
And quick transport me to some blissful day,
When social intercourse her sweets would lend,
Mixing the lover with the tender friend;
When father's, mother's, sister's, voice was heard,
With every name that sense of life endear'd;
When future plans of dear domestic ease
Were fondly suffer'd every wish to seize;
When useful life was held a female part,
And 'twas no sin to feel I had a heart,
Or link the soft affections in my chain,
And hope to please — nor strive to please in vain;
To see the wish before it takes a form,
To mark the cloud or break the coming storm,
To shield the heart from every sense of pain,
And tell my own it did not beat in vain!
This! this was life! the life my faith approv'd,
A useful current to some friend belov'd;
If not a friend belov'd, at least to those
Whose length of suffering call'd for sweet repose;
And sought the soothings of the gentle breast,
In every form that Pity can be drest.