Thomas Humphry Ward, ed. The English Poets. 1880–1918.rnVol. III. The Eighteenth Century: Addison to Blake
Robert Blair (1699–1746)Extracts from The Grave: The Resurrection
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When not a single spot of burial earth,
Whether on land or in the spacious sea,
But must give back its long committed trust
Inviolate, and faithfully shall these
Make up the full account, not the least atom
Embezzled or mislaid of the whole tale.
Each soul shall have a body ready furnished,
And each shall have his own. Hence, ye profane!
Ask not how this can be. Sure the same power
That reared the piece at first and took it down
Can reassemble the loose scattered parts
And put them as they were. Almighty God
Has done much more, nor is his arm impaired
With length of days, and what he can he will.
His faithfulness stands bound to see it done.
When the dread trumpet sounds, the slumbering dust,
Not unattentive to the call, shall wake,
And every joint possess its proper place
With a new elegance of form unknown
To its first state. Nor shall the conscious soul
Mistake its partner, but, amidst the crowd
Singling its other half, into its arms
Shall rush with all the impatience of a man
That ’s new come home, who having long been absent
With haste runs over ev’ry different room
In pain to see the whole. Thrice happy meeting!
Nor time nor death shall part them ever more.
’Tis but a night, a long and moonless night,
We make the grave our bed, and then are gone.
Leaves the wide air and, in some lonely brake,
Cowers down and dozes till the dawn of day,
Then claps his well-fledged wings and bears away.