Man is a harp whose chords elude the sight,Each yielding harmony, disposed aright;The screws reversed (a task which if he pleaseGod in a moment executes with ease),Ten thousand thousand strings at once go loose,Lost, till he tune them, all their power and use.Then neither healthy wilds, nor scenes as fairAs ever recompensed the peasant's care,Nor soft declivities, with tufted hills,Nor view of waters turning busy mills,Parks in which art preceptress nature weds,Nor gardens interspersed with flowery beds,Nor gales, that catch the scent of blooming groves,And waft it to the mourner as he roves—Can call up life into his faded eye,That passes all he sees unheeded by:No wounds like those a wounded spirit feels,No cure for such, till God, who makes them, heals.
Man is a harp whose chords elude the sight,Each yielding harmony, disposed aright;The screws reversed (a task which if he pleaseGod in a moment executes with ease),Ten thousand thousand strings at once go loose,Lost, till he tune them, all their power and use.Then neither healthy wilds, nor scenes as fairAs ever recompensed the peasant's care,Nor soft declivities, with tufted hills,Nor view of waters turning busy mills,Parks in which art preceptress nature weds,Nor gardens interspersed with flowery beds,Nor gales, that catch the scent of blooming groves,And waft it to the mourner as he roves—Can call up life into his faded eye,That passes all he sees unheeded by:No wounds like those a wounded spirit feels,No cure for such, till God, who makes them, heals.
Retirement.
The lines which follow are important, as proving by his own testimony that, so far from his religious views being the occasion of his wretchedness, it was to this source alone that he looked for consolation and support.
And thou, sad sufferer under nameless ill,That yields not to the touch of human skill;Improve the kind occasion, understandA Father's frown, and kiss his chastening hand:To thee the day-spring and the blaze of noon,The purple evening and resplendent moon,The stars, that, sprinkled o'er the vault of night,Seem drops descending in a shower of light,Shine not, or undesired and hated shine,Seen through the medium of a cloud like thine:Yet seek Him, in his favour life is found,All bliss beside, a shadow or a sound:Then heaven, eclipsed so long, and this dull earth,Shall seem to start into a second birth!Nature, assuming a more lovely face,Borrowing a beauty from the works of grace,Shall be despised and overlooked no more,Shall fill thee with delights unfelt before,Impart to things inanimate a voice,And bid her mountains and her hills rejoice;The sound shall run along the winding vales,And thou enjoy an Eden ere it fails.
And thou, sad sufferer under nameless ill,That yields not to the touch of human skill;Improve the kind occasion, understandA Father's frown, and kiss his chastening hand:To thee the day-spring and the blaze of noon,The purple evening and resplendent moon,The stars, that, sprinkled o'er the vault of night,Seem drops descending in a shower of light,Shine not, or undesired and hated shine,Seen through the medium of a cloud like thine:Yet seek Him, in his favour life is found,All bliss beside, a shadow or a sound:Then heaven, eclipsed so long, and this dull earth,Shall seem to start into a second birth!Nature, assuming a more lovely face,Borrowing a beauty from the works of grace,Shall be despised and overlooked no more,Shall fill thee with delights unfelt before,Impart to things inanimate a voice,And bid her mountains and her hills rejoice;The sound shall run along the winding vales,And thou enjoy an Eden ere it fails.
Retirement.
The Editor has entered thus largely into the consideration of Cowper's depressive malady, because it has been least understood, and subject to the most erroneous misrepresentations, affecting the character of Cowper and the honour of religion. One leading object of the writer's, in engaging in the present undertaking, has been to vindicate both from so injurious an imputation.
We have now to lay before the reader another most interesting document, of which Cowper is the acknowledged author. It contains the affecting account of the last illness and peaceful end of his brother, the Rev. John Cowper, Fellow of Bennet College, Cambridge. The original manuscript was faithfully transcribed by Newton, and then published with a preface, which we have thought proper to retain. It cannot fail to be read with deep interest and edification; and, while it is a monument of Cowper's pious zeal and fraternal love, it is a striking record of the power of divine grace in producing that great change of heart which we deem to be essential to every professing Christian. This document is now extremely scarce, and not accessible but through private sources.[764]
A SKETCH OF THE CHARACTER, AND AN ACCOUNT OF THE LAST ILLNESS,
OF THE LATE
REV. JOHN COWPER, A.M.
FELLOW OF BENNET COLLEGE, CAMBRIDGE,WHO FINISHED HIS COURSE WITH JOY, 20TH MARCH, 1770.WRITTEN BY HIS BROTHER,THE LATE WILLIAM COWPER, ESQ.OF THE INNER TEMPLE, AUTHOR OF "THE TASK," ETC.FAITHFULLY TRANSCRIBED FROM HIS ORIGINAL MANUSCRIPT,BY JOHN NEWTON,RECTOR OF ST. MARY WOOLNOTH, AND ST. MARY, WOOLCHURCH.