Undated Poem in Samuel Pearce's Handwriting about Public Worship

“On being prevented by sickness from attending on Public Worship”

The fabric of Nature is fair

But fairer the temple of grace

To Saints ‘tis the joy of the Earth

The most glorious, and beautiful place

To this temple I once did resort

With crowds of the people of God

Enraptur’d we enter’d his courts

And hail’d the Redeemer’s abode

The father of mercies we prais’d

And prostrated low at his throne

The Savior we lov’d and ador’d

Who lov’d us, and made us his own

Full oft’ to the message of grace

To sinners addres’d from the sky

We listen’d extolling that grace

Which set us—once rebels—on high

Faith clave to the crucified Lamb

Hope, smiling, exalted its head

Love warm’d at the Saviors dear name

And vow’d to observe what he said

What pleasure appear’d in the looks

Of the brethren and sisters around

With transport all seemd [sic] to reflect

On the blessings in Jesus they’d found

Sweet Moments!  If aught upon earth

Resembles the joys of the skies

It is thus when the hearts of ye flock

Conjoin’d to the shepheard arise

But Ah!  These sweet moments are fled

Pale sickness compels me to stay

Where no voice of the turtle is heard

As the moments are hasting away

My God!—Thou art holy and good

Thy plans are all righteous & wise

O help me submissive to wait

Till thou biddest thy servant arise

If to follow thee here in thy Courts

May it be with all ardor & zeal

With success & increasing delight

Performing the whole of thy will

Or shoulds’t thou in bondage detain

To visit thy temples no more

Prepare me for mansions above

Where nothing exists to deplore

Where Jesus, the sun of the place

Refulgent incessantly shines

Eternally blessing his saints

And pouring delight on their minds

There—there are no prisons to hold

The captive from tasting delight

There the day never is clos’d

With shadows, or darkness, or night

There myriads & myriads shall meet

In our Saviors high praises to join

Whilst transported we fall at his feet

And extol his redemption divine

Enough then—my heart shall no more

Of its present bereavements complain

Since er’e long I to glory shall soar

And ceaseless enjoyments obtain.

Text: Timothy Whelan, Baptist Autographs in the John Rylands University Library of Manchester, 1741-1845 (Macon: Mercer University Press, 2009), pp. 334-36 (annotated version); also Eng. MS. 371, f. 97b, JRULM.  This poem appears in the Baptist Annual Register, 3:432-33. MS. of the above poem is a facsimile of Samuel Pearce’s handwriting, undated, but most likely, given the inclusion in vol. 3 of the Register, composed c. 1797-99.