3364
 
 THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES
 
 C 
 

 
 THB 
 
 PEOPHET 
 
 OP THB 
 
 ALLEGHANY MOUNTAINS, 
 
 A MISSIONARY TALE, 
 AND OTHER POEMS: 
 
 BY 
 
 ELIZABETH WYKE. 
 
 IRONBRIDGE : 
 GEO. MORT. SMITH, MAEKET-PLACE. 
 
 1847.
 
 PS 
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 It may be asked why the following poems should be sent 
 into the world at a time when so many are issuing from the 
 press \vith far greater claims to patronage and support. The 
 answer is obvious. The writer conceives that the language of 
 our best poets can be properly appreciated only by those who 
 have received a superior education, and whose minds have been 
 cultivated in the highest degree ; hence it is she thinks her 
 poems better adapted to those in more humble life, and at the 
 same time she flatters herself they will not be found unpleasing 
 to the most fastidious reader. 
 
 The aim of the writer has not been so much to please the 
 ear by elegance of language as to enforce the first principles of 
 Christianity, not only by precept but by bringing forward ex 
 amples to prove tlie excellence of those principles in operation. 
 
 Therefore she conceives the present volume suited to the 
 capacity of the rising generation, whose best, interests she would 
 be ever happv to promote, but more especially the welfare of 
 those pupils who have been, and still are, entrusted to her care, 
 to be inshucted in the various branches of female education.
 
 It may be necessary to say something respecting the sub 
 jects she has chosen to write upon. 
 
 The 'Prophet oftheAlleghany.' is founded on a circumstance 
 related in the Report of the New York Missionary Society for 
 the year 1803. The term 'red men' is applied by American Indians 
 to their own tribes, whilst the Europeans are styled ' Wliite Men 
 of Ocean' believing that they originally sprung from the foam of 
 the sea : they also call them 'Pale Faces' 
 
 The answering voices heard from the caves and hollows 
 called ' Echo' the Indians believe to be the waitings of souls wan 
 dering through those places. 
 
 The Poem of ' Mat the Maroon' is taken from a tale writ 
 ten by Percy St. John ; the scene is laid on the banks of the 
 Hudson, during the American War. 
 
 Rock, Broseley, 1347.
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 Introductory Lines to a Friend ... ,,, 1 
 
 Prophet of the Alleghany ... ... 8 
 
 The Minister's Prayer ... ... 21 
 
 Lines suggested by read " Mat the Maroon" ... 27 
 
 The Old Weaver ... ... 37 
 
 "William and Mary ... ... ... 44 
 
 Edwin ... ... ... 53 
 
 The Minstrel ... ... ... 64 
 
 The Mother's Prayer ... ... 68 
 
 Alfred ... ... ,., 72 
 
 Lines on the Cross ... ... 80 
 
 The Orphan Boy I ... ... ... 85 
 
 Sin leads to Sorrow ... ... 95 
 
 Wilhelmine ... ... ... 102 
 
 The Bereaved Mother , ... 107 
 
 On Earthly Joys ... ... ... 113
 
 INTRODUCTORY LINES TO A FRIEND. 
 
 MY friend, could I succeed ill my desire, 
 
 And gain for once the poet's tuneful lyre, 
 
 I need not rove through garden, field, or bower, 
 
 To cull the sweetest or the fairest flower, 
 
 For were I conscious of the poet's art, 
 
 Whose melodies such wondrous charms impart, 
 
 I'd sing the rose of Sharon's matchless dye, 
 
 That rose invisible to mortal eye, 
 
 Whose virtues and whose never fading bloom, 
 
 Shed through the world of bliss a rich perfume. 
 
 Yet why refuse the praises that belong 
 
 To him whose grace exceeds all mortal song, 
 
 Because the critic may with justice deem 
 
 My lays unworthy of so great a theme ? 
 
 But could I hope my God would deign to 
 
 The praise of one who trusts in him alone 
 
 For every earthly good that may be given, 
 
 For hopes of life, immortal life, in heaven ;
 
 In vain the critic may observe, detect 
 
 In every line some error or defect ; 
 
 Protected by that power who reigns on high, 
 
 Satire may pass unfelt, unheeded by, 
 
 Divested of its sting, its efforts vain 
 
 As the soft breeze which moves the waving grain, 
 
 Plays o'er the tender plant in sportive glee, 
 
 But fails to move the deeply rooted tree. 
 
 Oh could my lines attract the listening ear, 
 
 Arouse the careless, or awake a fear 
 
 In some young wanderer who has ever been 
 
 Unconscious that remorse awaits on sin, 
 
 Happy, thrice happy, if to me were given, 
 
 To lead that soul to seek the God of heaven.
 
 THE PROPHET OF THE ALLEGHANY, 
 A MISSIONARY TALE. 
 
 r Go ye/ was once our gracious Lord's command, 
 ' Go ye and preach my Word in every land, 
 Teach all the nations / so the message ran, 
 ' Teach all the earth redemption's glorious plan/ 
 Divine commission ! who that knows the worth 
 Of heavenly love, but longs to bear it forth, 
 And with the gospel banners wide unfurl'd, 
 Spread the glad tidings through the heathen world, 
 Midst raging waves, or o'er the burning sand 
 ' Go ye/ so stands the blessed Lord's command. 
 
 All hail, ye favored sons of heaven, 
 
 To whom such love to precious souls is given ! 
 
 Love that can bear you o'er the foaming tide, 
 
 To tell lost souls of JESUS crucified ; 
 
 Can lead through roughest paths your willing feet ; 
 
 Love that can render e'en affliction sweet. 
 
 When Christ the Captain of Salvation calls,
 
 Each fear, each obstacle before you falls; 
 
 He owns the ready heart, the willing hands, 
 
 Charg'd with a mission to the untaught lands. 
 
 And will not his approving smile repay, 
 
 The toil and labour of your weary way ? 
 
 Then bless that love that hath to you assigned 
 
 The glorious task. Yes, 'twas for man designed 
 
 To be the auspicious bearer of the plan 
 
 Devis'd in heaven to rescue rebel man. 
 
 Glad would th' angelic hosts from heaven have flown 
 
 On the kind errand from Jehovah's throne ; 
 
 All radiant in their glory, swift their wings 
 
 Of love, obedient to the King of Kings, 
 
 Had borne them down to earth with anthems new, 
 
 Shouting aloud hosannas as they flew ; 
 
 Then had good news from heaven through earth been sung, 
 
 Then had the earth with hallelujahs rung. 
 
 But no ! lost man to fallen man must go, 
 
 And bear the word that rescues him from woe ; 
 
 Who could speak joy and comfort to the soul 
 
 Of him who mourns for sin ? who can control 
 
 The anxious fears, the doubts, and deep distress 
 
 Of him who knows not Jesu's power to bless ? 
 
 Who but a brother, saved by Jesu's grace 
 
 Could point the wandering soul to wisdom's ways ? 
 
 A fallen brother to his brother speaks, 
 
 And tells him 'tis the sinner Jesus seeks, 
 
 The contrite sinner ; yes, that brother knows
 
 All the poor mourner feels, his bitterest woes. 
 Who speaks of hope, of love, of sin forgiven, 
 Like a poor pilgrim on his way to heaven ? 
 His words can cheer, for he has found his God 
 A solace in affliction's heaviest load. 
 
 Within the peaceful shade of thickest wood, 
 Where Alleghany's towering heights arise, 
 Keclined on mossy bank in solitude, 
 From the oppressive heat of western skies, 
 An aged man, by long fatigue opprest, 
 Seclusion sought, a place of calm repose, 
 But ere his steps had reached the wished for rest, 
 His humble fervent prayer to heaven arose. 
 
 ' My God, obedient to thy gracious call, 
 I build my hopes on thy Almighty power, 
 Be thou my strength, my righteousness, my all, 
 Be thou my refuge in the trying hour ; 
 Then shall the Indian's shout and warlike cry, 
 Fall unregarded on my listening ear, 
 Protected by thy ever watchful eye 
 And mighty arm, what evil can I fear ? 
 Let me declare the tidings I have brought 
 To guilty men, and spread them far and wide, 
 Throughout the Indian tribes as yet untaught, 
 And preach to them the Saviour crucified.
 
 Fd preach the cross on which th* incarnate God 
 Besign'd his life, that sinful man might live ; 
 Who, whilst he bore the curse, sin's heavy load, 
 Cried, ' Oh ! my God, my Father, Oh ! forgive.' ' 
 
 The holy man, with fervent zeal inspired, 
 
 Had longed his heavenly message to declare, 
 
 And earnestly his arduous task desired, 
 
 So full of danger and so full of care ; 
 
 For he had felt the joys of pardoning grace, 
 
 When bowed beneath his sins, he looked to heaven, 
 
 And now he hoped that others might embrace 
 
 The mercy which to him was freely given. 
 
 What though his native land, his happy home, 
 
 Lay far, far, distant from Ms aching eyes ; 
 
 He thought of joys, of pleasures yet to come, 
 
 The land of bliss, the land beyond the skies. 
 
 He rose, when issuing from a deep recess 
 
 Of forest glade, with proud majestic mien, 
 
 A form drew nigh, whose warlike air and dress 
 
 Declar'd he'd long in many a conflict been ; 
 
 In his right hand a tomahawk he bore, 
 
 A bow across lu's shoulders loosely hung, 
 
 A battle- axe girt by his side he wore, 
 
 And o'er his back a panther's skin was flung ; 
 
 While deep emotion heaved the warrior's breast, 
 
 With rage suppress'd, the good man he thus address'd.
 
 * White man of ocean, say whence comest thou ? 
 Why dost thou wander amongst these tall trees ? 
 Unfold thy designs, for the white man ere now, 
 Has studied to rob us of home and of ease. 
 Time was, when our people delighted to stray, 
 Throughout the wide forest, and chase the wild deer, 
 But where are they now ? they are faded away, 
 Like the grey mists of morn ; the white man has been here. 
 Then say, man of ocean, say what seekest thou ? 
 Thou pale faced intruder thy motives disclose, 
 Nor think that the brave and the valiant shall bow 
 To the will of invaders, of tyrants, of foes ! ' 
 
 The good old man, with calm and placid smile, 
 Replied, ' my friend, Fve travelled far to bring 
 To thee and to thy sons, from Britain's isle, 
 Good news, glad tidings from the heavenly King; 
 I come in Jesu's name to thee, to speak 
 Of happiness, of joys winch ne'er will cease ; 
 The welfare of thy native tribes to seek, 
 And point the way to future bliss and peace/ 
 
 ' Why speakest thou of peace ? ' the red Indian replied, 
 ( Behold now the peace which the white man has brought ; 
 Our sweet woodland glens where we loved to abide, 
 By our once gallant sons will no longer be sought ; 
 Tor the white man arose from the foam of the deep,
 
 With the lightning's bright flash and the loud thunder 
 Our warriors no longer their forests could keep, [armM, 
 Our tribes fled before them, distressed and alarra'd ; 
 Where now are our hunters who climbed the rude heights, 
 That traversed our forests in quest of their prey ? 
 Where now are our chiefs, who, till yet, by their might 
 Have subdued all their foes ? they have chas'd them away. 
 Then go, hence, begone, dang'rous man as thou art, 
 And leave us the little we yet may possess, 
 For our virtues, our Gods, will be dear to each heart, 
 "While our forests yield deer, and our woods a recess/ 
 
 Thus spoke the chief with look of deep disdain, 
 Then disappeared amidst the darkest shades : 
 The worthy man pursued his way again, 
 Through verdant meads and fragrant forest glades ; 
 With zeal he laboured in the cause of heaven, 
 Blest, sweetly blest, for Christ liis God was there, 
 To cheer him in the arduous task he'd given, 
 His task of love and unremitting care. 
 And many an anxious soul had humbly sought, 
 Through Jesu's love and grace, to be forgiven, 
 By him, their much loved pastor, had been taught 
 The way to peace, to happiness, to heaven. 
 
 Tour summer suns had seen the pious man 
 With anxious care and unabated zeal, 
 Unfold the great and glorious gospel plan,
 
 Which can alone the wounded spirit heal. 
 He boldly dared t' avow the Saviour's cause, 
 Denounced all idol worship false and vain, 
 Reveal' d the great Jehovah's broken laws, 
 Pronounced the dire reward, eternal pain ; 
 Told how the Son of God had bled and died, 
 To save lost man from woe and deep despair, 
 That none in vain for mercy e'er applied, 
 Who sought by faith in penitence and prayer. 
 Thus had he taught, and gain'd a little band 
 Of converts to the Christian's holy laws, 
 And many a contrite heart, and many a hand, 
 Rose nobly to defend their Saviour's cause. 
 Oft had the evening sun's departing rays, 
 Witness'd their fervent zeal, their peace, their joy, 
 And when the morning dawn'd the Saviour's praise 
 Was still their theme, was still their glad employ. 
 How pleasing then to speak of Jesu's love ! 
 How dear to them appear'd the hallow'd spot, 
 Where gracious tidings from the realms above, 
 With joy and peace had crown'd their happy lot. 
 Perhaps, had then a gently warning voice 
 Been heard in whispers low, ' yield not to fear, 
 For know while thus your hearts in hope rejoice, 
 Across your path lies many a fatal snare ; 
 For he who on the mount of Calvary died, 
 For guilty man's transgressions to atone, 
 E'en he, the great Redeemer, crucified,
 
 10 
 
 Was left deserted, suffering, and alone : ' 
 
 Had such a kindly warning voice been heard, 
 
 Then had that warning voice been heedless deem'd, 
 
 So strong their hope, so fix'd on Jesu's word, 
 
 So bright the rays of faith that round them beam'd ; 
 
 And shall their faith and hope be e'er dismayed ? 
 
 What if an Indian prophet from the height 
 
 Of Alleghan/s lofty hills essay'd 
 
 This little friendly band to disunite ? 
 
 What if the spirit of the air and wood 
 
 Had marked the path they trod with anger dire, 
 
 And call'd them to return to him subdued, 
 
 Nor longer dare provoke his vengeful ire ? 
 
 Shall they who trust the great Redeemer's power 
 
 To lead to bliss above that never ends, 
 
 Shall they dismay* d, in hot temptation's hour, 
 
 Yield to the threats the mighty spirit sends ? 
 
 Thus time pass'd on, the Prophet from the heights 
 Of Alleghany hills, at length assailed 
 That faith which hitherto had shone so bright ; 
 That faith o'er which no threat'nings e'er prevail'd. 
 He said the mighty Spirit of the wood, 
 Had seen their erring ways with anger dire, 
 Had warn'd them to return to him subdued, 
 Nor longer dare to rouse his vengeful ire ; 
 Told them the chiefs had all with one consent 
 Agreed to meet, that they might learn what he
 
 Should then reveal to them, the message sent 
 From the great Spirit, mighty, pure, and free. 
 
 Then was their time of trial, doubt, and fear, 
 Then sank their hearts in hopeless, wild despair ; 
 What, did no follower of the Lamb appear, 
 To praise his God, or bend the knee in prayer ? 
 Where now is seen the happy, cheerful face, 
 The friendly pressure of the proffer' d hand, 
 As hast'ning onward to the sacred place, 
 The worthy pastor met his little band ? 
 That hallow'd spot was now deserted, all, 
 Yes all, had fled that peaceful, calm retreat, 
 Yet did the pastor on his Saviour call, 
 In mercy to restore their wand'ring feet. 
 
 At length th' expected time, th' important day 
 Arriv'd ; the chieftains all, with one consent, 
 Assert they must the spirit's will obey, 
 And listen to the message he had sent. 
 The vale was deep, the lake was calm and still, 
 Midst rising hills, and hanging woods retired, 
 They met to learn the mighty spirit's will, 
 From Alleghany's favour'd chief inspired. 
 Beneath the spreading trees, in council deep, 
 On verdant lawn the chiefs assembled there, 
 In anxious hope a solemn silence keep, 
 Till Alleghany's prophet should appear.
 
 12 
 
 Within the circle of the chiefs is placed 
 An aged man, whose white and flowing hair, 
 Adorn'd a brow on which was deeply traced, 
 The furrow' d lines of grief and anxious care. 
 Yet might be seen his bright expressive eye, 
 "\Vith steady gaze, fix'd on the vault of heaven, 
 Which seem'd to say, my father, here am I, 
 And here behold the children thou hast given. 
 Oh ! give them courage to confess their Lord, 
 Midst fierce contention, storms, and bitterest strife, 
 To hail with joy the flaming fire and sword, 
 That yet may bear them to eternal life. 
 
 Still as the babe in calm and gentle sleep, 
 Softly reposing on its mother's breast, 
 Th' assembled tribes their solemn silence keep, 
 Each angry word, each angry thought repress'd. 
 Till from the hills to meet the waiting throng, 
 Th' expected prophet comes with rapid walk ; 
 A bow across his shoulders loosely hung, 
 And in his hand he bore a tomahawk ; 
 He reach'd the spot, then with majestic air, 
 The awe-struck Indians' ear he thus address'd, 
 His flashing eye of fire appear'd to bear 
 To them the mighty spirit's high behest. 
 
 ' Te red men of woods, ye red Indians attend, 
 Hear what the great Spirit has deign' d to declare,
 
 13 
 
 By me his true prophet, by me your true friend ; 
 
 Oh hear, ye apostates, the message I bear. 
 
 The loud call to arms, or the glad sounds of mirth, 
 
 No more on the shores of the Hudson resound ; 
 
 No more shall the Mohawk's soft banks of green earth, 
 
 Be the scenes where our once happy kindred were found. 
 
 Whose now are the regions your forefathers held, 
 
 Where free as the wild winds they hunted their prey ; 
 
 Where the panther and bison affrighted beheld 
 
 The hunter's bright spear which had chas'd them away? 
 
 E'en there does the white man break up our lov'd soil, 
 
 E'en now might the axe of the w.hite man be heard, 
 
 Where the bones of our ancestors rest from their toil, 
 
 Where the hallo w'd remains of our dead are interr'd. 
 
 Oh have ye not heard in the mild evening hour, 
 
 Or in the calm silence of night's solemn reign, 
 
 The wailing of spirits, whose bones by their power, 
 
 Exposed to the tempest and storms thus complain ? 
 
 They call us to vengeance, to rouse from our sleep, 
 
 The Christian must be from our regions expelTd ; 
 
 The white man of ocean no longer must keep 
 
 The woods and possessions our forefathers held. 
 
 Arouse then to action, each warrior, oh ! say, 
 
 Shall the pale-faced intruders in triumph remain, 
 
 While your brave fathers' spirits now wander away 
 
 Far beyond the blue hills a safe refuge to gain ? 
 
 Now hear, ye deluded ones, if ye persist 
 
 In forsaking my altars, my counsel reject,
 
 14 
 
 If the Christian's new doctrines ye will not resist, 
 Then hear and beware of the words ye neglect. 
 My wrath shall pursue you, the tempest shall pour 
 Its rage on the scenes of your joy and your mirth ; 
 The lightning's bright flash and the thunder's loud roar, 
 Shall consume and destroy man and beast from the earth. 
 
 The Prophet ceas'd ; a veteran chief arose, 
 
 Whose piercing eye gleam'd fearfully around, 
 
 With all the rage a savage Indian knows, 
 
 Then through the ring with quick and sudden bound, 
 
 He wildly sprang ; he forc'd his desperate way, 
 
 Quick as the lightning's vivid flash his thought : 
 
 ' White man ' he cried, thy life shall dearly pay 
 
 The mischief which thy hated race has brought. 
 
 The fatal spear was rais'd : but ere it fell, 
 
 A friendly hand restrain'd the deadly blow ; 
 
 God's messenger had yet good news to tell, 
 
 And well his faithful herald knew 'twas so. 
 
 At length, the tumult o'er, one heavenward glance, 
 
 And then the missionary forward came, 
 
 And gently begg'd permission to advance 
 
 A word in his Redeemer's gracious name. 
 
 Who could behold that venerable form, 
 
 Devoted thus to his great Saviour's cause, 
 
 Bearing the weight of persecution's storm, 
 
 And honouring thus the Christian's righteous laws : 
 
 Who could behold and not admire the love
 
 15 
 
 He bore his enemies, who sought his life, 
 He stood as one who, from the world above, 
 Expected strength to meet th' unequal strife. 
 And though his manly voice was firm and clear, 
 And though his eye bright animation wore, 
 Yet something in liis placid eye was there, 
 That told his toils and cares would soon be o'er ; 
 And then with holy fervour he address' d 
 The native Indian tribes : he spoke of heaven, 
 That place where weary souls are ever blest, 
 Who seek through Christ alone to be forgiven. 
 He spoke of sin ; he spoke of endless woe, 
 Which must ere long unpardon'd guilt attend ; 
 That those who humbly to the Saviour go, 
 Shall in that gracious Saviour find a friend. 
 With glowing colors did he clearly paint, 
 The direst woes the great Redeemer bore, 
 How in his pain and anguish, weak and faint, 
 He conquer'd death and sin's destructive power. 
 
 ' Behold the man ' he cried, the man of grief ! 
 Behold his wounded hands, his feet, his side ; 
 Yiew him ye Indian hunters, prophet, chief, 
 Behold the Saviour, see him crucified ! 
 Think of th' incarnate God you're call'd to serve, 
 The giver of each priz'd, each pure delight; 
 Think of the heavenly glories in reserve, 
 The world of peace, the realms of light and life.
 
 16 
 
 Think how, should justice draw her flaming sound, 
 T* avenge th' insulted majesty of heaven, 
 Quench'd in the streaming blood of Christ the Lord, 
 It cannot now impede the way to heaven. 
 Oh ! is there yet a heart so dead in sin, 
 That now can spurn the Christian's happy lot ? 
 See where the Christian's busy hand hath been, 
 His cultured fields, his fruits, his peaceful cot ; 
 But tell me friends, the blessings you command, 
 Alas, how quickly do your pleasures cloy ; 
 Tor you I've left my much lov'd native land, 
 That you might know the Christian's holy joy. 
 And now, ye chiefs, the ever living God, 
 Looks from his radiant throne of bliss above, 
 Sees how I've toil'd to spread his name abroad, 
 Upheld through all by his Almighty love. 
 "Pis he that checks each painful rising fear, 
 'Tis he that gives the weary pilgrim rest, 
 'Twas he witheld the sharp, uplifted spear, 
 That spear so lately pointed at my breast, 
 Oh think, if now possessed of peace like this, 
 If now with joy we wonder and adore, 
 What it must be in yon bright world of bliss, 
 To sing the Saviour's praise for evermore.' 
 
 He paus'd; and soon an aged chieftain rose, 
 Whose steady look attention must bespeak, 
 The terror of his country's dreaded foes ;
 
 17 
 
 The faithful, tried protector of the weak. 
 
 His powerful arm was ever known to wield 
 
 The pond'rous axe with sure and fatal blow; 
 
 Nor e'er his valiant heart Avas known to yield 
 
 To threats of vengeance from his direst foe. 
 
 His eye awhile in admiration gazed 
 
 Upon the missionary's placid mien ; 
 
 At length th' extended hand in silence rais'd, 
 
 Told of emotion strong and deep within : 
 
 He stood as one amaz'd, till thought too strong 
 
 Burst forth, and eloquently did he plead 
 
 The white man's just and holy cause ; nor long 
 
 Was he unheard, for oft had many a deed 
 
 Of Christian love reach'd the unwilling ears ; 
 
 And many a Christian act of pious care, 
 
 That sooth'd the orphan's woes, that dried the tears 
 
 Of mourning widows plung'd in deep despair. 
 
 Yet a long time the chiefs in council sta/d 
 
 In consultation deep, and then arose 
 
 An aged warrior, one whose steady aid, 
 
 Would oft th' unguarded speech of youth oppose : 
 
 He spoke with earnest look and solemn tone, 
 
 Said to the council, it at length appear' d, 
 
 That the great God, the Christian's God, alone 
 
 Was worthy to be honoured, lov'd, and fear'd. 
 
 ' Brethren ' he cried, ' the council have by me 
 Declared, the white man comes to us in peace ; 
 E
 
 IS 
 
 And that the friendly missionary be, 
 Our future guide to lasting happiness.' 
 
 Whilst thus the sage but animated man, 
 Address 'd the listening multitude, ere long 
 A general murmur of applause began 
 To spread abroad through the assembled throng : 
 'Twos then the prophet of the mountains knew 
 His reign was o'er, his reign of dread and fear : 
 His panther's skin around him closer drew, 
 And wildly, madly, grasp' d his glittering spear; 
 Then, bounding towards the AUeghauy hills, 
 Denounced destruction on the fated place ; 
 Said the great Spirit shortly would fulfil 
 His threaten'd vengeance on the apostate race. 
 He fled in rage most terrible and dire, 
 He fled from scenes of Christian hope and joy, 
 Nor e'er again did he with eye of fire, 
 Denouncing wrath, their heartfelt peace destroy. 
 
 Now could the holy man in safety meet 
 Again with joy his much loved little band, 
 Fresh acts of Christian love again repeat, 
 Fresh blessings seek from Jesu's gracious hand. 
 
 Hail ! man of God, thus so divinely taught ! 
 Hail ! thou ambassador to man from heaven ! 
 How glad the blessed tidings thou hast brought,
 
 19 
 
 Tidings of conquered death, of man forgiven. 
 
 Oh, could the infidel but now behold 
 
 Thy heavenward glance, thy calm, thy uprais'd eye, 
 
 Thy looks that such a tale of joy unfold, 
 
 Of peace, of heaven, of immortality ! 
 
 Oh, surely then one deep and anxious thought, 
 
 Would steal across that sadly darkened mind, 
 
 E'en though by fatal error early taught, 
 
 To scorn the grace for sinful man designed ; 
 
 And ye, ye little band, ye fearful few, 
 
 Whose hopes of joy are placed beyond the sky ; 
 
 Who round your Saviour's standard closely drew, 
 
 Resolv'd to conquer, or resolv'd to die ; 
 
 Fear not, for know the God of heavenly grace, 
 
 Who ever reigns in brighter worlds on high ; 
 
 Who saw your enemies assail your peace, 
 
 Who saw you shrink, who saw you fear and fly : 
 
 The Saviour's mercy is not sought in vain, 
 
 For when on Calvary's mount for man he bled, 
 
 Whilst agonizing in his grief and pain, 
 
 His followers left their dying Lord and fled : 
 
 Yet mercy, pardoning mercy, still was theirs, 
 
 On them no storms of fearful vengeance fell ; 
 
 Oh no, the smiles that heavenly pity wears, 
 
 Sooth' d those sad hearts the Saviour loved so well. 
 
 Then rouse, ye favour'd ones, for know your God 
 
 Has heard you in the depths of your distress ; 
 
 Arise, with vigour spread his name abroad,
 
 20 
 
 Reveal the tidings of a Saviour's grace. 
 
 Arise, ye favoured ones ; for know that soon 
 
 Your faithful guide, to you in mercy given, 
 
 Must be again recalled ; that precious boon 
 
 Was only sent to point the way to heaven. 
 
 Soon will that faitliful warning voice be lost, 
 
 That placid smile no more on earth be seen ; 
 
 No more on waves of sorrow roughly toss'd, 
 
 Will he lament the dire effects of sin. 
 
 He goes where sin no longer shall annoy ; 
 
 He goes his God and Saviour to adore ; 
 
 He goes to reign in worlds of endless joy, 
 
 With the eternal God for evermore. 
 
 Then weep not, though the parting hour draw nigh, 
 
 A few more rising suns will soon be o'er ; 
 
 Soon will you meet your pastor in the sky, 
 
 To sing redeeming grace for evermore.
 
 THE MINISTER'S PRAYER. 
 
 Behold yon aged man ! see him reclin'd 
 
 Beneath a spreading oak ; a fallen tree 
 
 His chosen seat, beside him lies his staff, 
 
 While o'er his face appears a look of care. 
 
 But why that look of care ? is it fatigue, 
 
 Or the infirmities which oft attend 
 
 Declining years ? or has his well tried staff, 
 
 On which he has leaned so long, at length proved false ? 
 
 Oh no ! th' infirmities of age he haiFd, 
 
 As he would hail the kindly warning voice 
 
 Which saith, the time draws nigh when thou shalt rise 
 
 To peace and joy in heaven. If his tried staff 
 
 Which he so highly priz'd had fail'd, what then ? 
 
 He had a surer stay to rest upon : 
 
 A stay which never fails. See in his hands, 
 
 The staff on which he's lean'd, and leans e'en now j 
 
 The word of life, the guardian of his youth ;
 
 22 
 
 The lovM companion of his riper years ; 
 His hope, his all in manhood's vigorous prime ; 
 And now, while journeying to the gloomy shore 
 Of Jordan's chilling stream : yet he can stand 
 Upon the borders of the swelling flood, 
 And wait the call that bids him launch away, 
 Without a rising fear. Then why that look, 
 That look of care ? know then the worthy man 
 Had, in the vineyard of the God of heaven 
 Been long a faithful labourer : he had toil'd 
 With diligence unwearied : he had watch' d 
 Each tender plant, and as the husbandman 
 With ceaseless diligence attends the charge 
 Committed to his trust, so did he watch 
 With unremitting zeal each opening bud, 
 Cheered with the hope that no unkindly frost 
 Or adverse winds may check the ripening fruit. 
 But now he saw with pain one lovely plant, 
 Fail in the promised fruit ; he long had watch'd, 
 And fervently had pray'd that his young friend 
 Might grow in grace, and in advancing years 
 Display the fruits of righteousness and faith. 
 But now, alas ! the world's alluring charms 
 Had gain'd his heart ; prosperity had spread 
 Around his path all that his soul desir'd. 
 What if his minister described the joys 
 And endless bliss of heaven ? he had his heaven, 
 His every wish of happiness, on earth.
 
 23 
 
 What if he spoke of grief, or care, or pain ; 
 
 Could he behold the partner of his heart, 
 
 Seated beside him, whilst his first born son 
 
 Smil'd in his father's face, and think of care ? 
 
 Could he behold the eye of heavenly blue, 
 
 The laughing dimple and the rosy cheek 
 
 Of his beloved boy, and think of care ? 
 
 No, when he press' d the rosy lips of him 
 
 Who claim'd the first fond kiss the father gave, 
 
 His heart recoiled at e'en the thought of care. 
 
 Yet faithfully the warning voice was given, 
 
 And faithfully was painted to his view, 
 
 The sin and danger of the wandering course 
 
 His erring steps pursued. True he could hear 
 
 The kindly admonitions of his friend : 
 
 He lov'd the worthy man, but pleasure's paths 
 
 Had drawn his heart from God : yes, he could hear 
 
 The wand' ring steps describ'd of him who strays 
 
 From duty's path; could hear the doom reveal' d, 
 
 The sentence passed on those who leave their God, 
 
 And centre their affections on the world : 
 
 Yes, he could see his pastor's steady eyes 
 
 Fix'd on his face, and hear the words pronounc'd, 
 
 ' Thou art the man/ yet feel no pang of grief, 
 
 No anxious care to be preserv'd from ill : 
 
 No wonder then the pastor felt for him, 
 
 And heav'd the deep-drawn sigh; no wonder then 
 
 The tear drop oft bedimm'd his sorrowing eye ;
 
 24 
 
 No wonder that his steps were slow and sad, 
 As he pursu'd his melancholy way, 
 To seek the friend he lov'd : with heavy heart 
 He reach'd th' abode of him whose hapless fate 
 Awoke such deep concern. ' My God/ he cried, 
 ' Ere I again behold my valued friend, 
 Again behold him with his heart estranged 
 From thee, the best of friends, e'en by the gifts 
 Thy liberal hand bestows, oh hear once more 
 My oft repeated prayer, remember him ! 
 Remember him, e'en though the loudest peal 
 Of Sinai's awful thunder should arrest 
 His frighted soul, yet still remember him ! 
 Thou art a refuge from the loudest peal 
 That Sinai's mountain knows, but oh, forbid 
 The direful sentence should be pass'd on him, 
 'Let him alone, for he hath other Gods ! ' 
 But could that pious man have rais'd his eyes, 
 And look'd beyond the clouds that intervene 
 Between this world and heaven, then had he seen 
 A ministering spirit from the realms 
 Of light and love, winging his downward way, 
 Bearing a charge of mercy to his friend. 
 
 But let us trace the good old pastor's steps, 
 E'en to the house he sought : the father sat 
 Watching beside his now expiring child ; 
 The little hand so cold, so fondly press' d
 
 25 
 
 Within his own, no father's love could warm. 
 
 Alas ! in vain he pressed it to his breast, 
 
 Or kiss'd the marble forehead ; all was cold, 
 
 The icy hand of death was busy there. 
 
 Beside the couch the weeping mother stood, 
 
 Mute in her agony : her very breath 
 
 Suppressed, lest the deep sigh or falling tear, 
 
 Or sad convulsive sob, might yet disturb 
 
 Her dying boy. But see, his eyes are clos'd 
 
 No more to wake : the bitterness of death 
 
 With him is o'er. But though he wakes no more 
 
 To bless those sorrowing hearts, he wakes in heaven, 
 
 And with a palm of bright, unfading green, 
 
 Cries, as he stands before the throne of God, 
 
 c Hosannah, Hallelujah ! ' Now behold 
 
 The good old minister, hear him exclaim, 
 
 ' Thank God, my friend, thank God ! oh praise His name, 
 
 Thou art not quite forgotten : no, in love 
 
 This bitter cup was given, that thou mayest know 
 
 Where thy true comfort lies : seek not on earth 
 
 To treasure up thy joy, for God alone 
 
 Can yield thee lasting peace. 'Tis not from earth 
 
 Thou canst receive one hope to glad thy soul 
 
 In such a trying hour ; 'tis thine to soothe 
 
 Thy weeping partner now, and to entreat 
 
 The God of heaven to give thee strength to bear 
 
 This stroke without a murmur : seek his aid 
 
 To lead thee through this scene of dark distress
 
 26 
 
 With calm submission : know, the happy time 
 Will come, when thou shalt see the hand of God, 
 That held to thee that bitter cup, has sweets 
 Yet in reserve the world knows nothing of/ 
 
 And truly did he speak, nor was it long 
 
 Ere the good pastor could fulfil his task, 
 
 His ever pleasing task of peace and love. 
 
 Oh, how he lovM to cheer the troubled mind, 
 
 To speak of pardon to the contrite soul. 
 
 Now on the sabbath day, the good old man 
 
 Can joy to see with what an eager look 
 
 And anxious ear his friend received his words : 
 
 Now he can pour into his willing ear, 
 
 Full many a precious truth before unpriz'd : 
 
 Now from the treasury of heavenly love, 
 
 He can bring joy and peace : now can he look 
 
 With steady eye upon his sorrowing friend, 
 
 And say, ' thou art the man, to thee belongs 
 
 The precious word of comfort : thou hast sought 
 
 And found that God delights in mercy still, 
 
 And though his chastening hand may seem severe, 
 
 Yet afterwards it yields the peaceful fruits 
 
 Of righteousness and love.'
 
 LINES 
 
 SUGGESTED BY READING "MAT. THE MAROOK," A TALE 
 BY PEKCY ST. JOHN. 
 
 How beautiful is light ! when first the dawn 
 
 Of opening day illumes the distant lawn, 
 
 Unfolding to our view full many a scene 
 
 Of life and loveliness ; the village green, 
 
 The lofty hills, the murmuring stream that flows 
 
 Across the verdant meadows, all disclose 
 
 Their rich luxuriance. See without a cloud 
 
 Those golden streaks appear ! night's sable shroud 
 
 Has been withdrawn, that moon's first rays may shed 
 
 Their gladdening influence o'er the path we tread. 
 
 So shone the star of Bethlehem, 'midst the gloom 
 Of night's dark reign, the shepherds' path t' illume, 
 And guide them to the hallowed spot, where lay 
 The babe foretold in many a by-gone day.
 
 28 
 
 E'en so the gospel's radiant light has given 
 To many a heathen land fair hopes of heaven ; 
 Reveal' d to blind idolatry the way 
 To heaven's bright realms of pure celestial day. 
 
 1 Let there be light/ the great Jehovah cried : 
 Swift sail'd the vessel o'er the foaming tide, 
 To Columbian shores, where thousands lay 
 Beneath the weight of superstition's sway. 
 
 With zeal inspired, the missionary went, 
 Pull on his task of heavenly mercy bent ; 
 And there proclaimed the gospel's glorious plan, 
 That faith in Christ would save apostate man. 
 Then rose amidst the gloom of heathen night, 
 The sun of righteousness, and there was light. 
 What but the splendid rays of heavenly love, 
 To us descending from the realms above, 
 Could shew the human heart its innate sin, 
 How deeply rooted there it lay within ; 
 Reveal the law of kindness e'en to foes, 
 And soothe each angry feeling to repose ? 
 
 Far from the Hudson's banks, from which they fled, 
 The negro Matthew his loved partner led 
 From Sebright's bonds and cruel slavery's yoke. 
 Matthew, the slave, had groan' d beneath the stroke 
 Of savage tyranny : had twice been brought
 
 29 
 
 Near to the gates of death. At length he sought 
 
 A safe retreat from pain and misery, 
 
 From cruel masters, and from tyranny. 
 
 Witliin a lonely dell, 'midst forest shade 
 
 Of verdant trees, their safe retreat was made ; 
 
 There nature smiled around ; a lovely spot 
 
 Was that where Matthew built his humble cot. 
 
 One smiling morn the sun's bright beams shone fair 
 
 On that lone cot ; there seem'd no cause for care, 
 
 As calmly seated near her cottage door, 
 
 Her infant playing on the grassy floor, 
 
 Rebecca cried, ' Mat bery long to day, 
 
 What for get up so soon ? where can him stay ? 
 
 Him not so 'dustrious genly.' Then she sought 
 
 To chase away each anxious, gloomy thought, 
 
 By fond caresses, lavishly bestowed 
 
 On her lov'd boy, the pride of her abode. 
 
 Five years had now claps' d, yet still remained 
 
 In Mat a sense of injuries sustain' d, 
 
 The keen remembrance of the cruel stroke 
 
 By which he'd suffer' d : in his mind awoke 
 
 A thirst for vengeance dire ; Mat had not learn'd 
 
 That injuries with love are best returned. 
 
 But now approach'd a distant sound, which drew 
 Eebecca's notice : soon within her view
 
 30 
 
 Appears the husband, while the heavy tread 
 Of soldiers filled her anxious soul with dread. 
 Mat saw her catch her infant from the ground, 
 With all a mother's love gaze wildly round, 
 Then gently shew'd how groundless her alarm, 
 Herself and babe were still secure from harm. 
 The soldiers sat beneath the spreading shade, 
 A mossy bank their rustic couch was made. 
 In conversation deep the time pass'd by, 
 Till the bright sun approach'd the mid-day sky. 
 
 But why those tears, Rebecca? why that sigh 
 
 Of deep distress, that look of misery ? 
 
 Alas within her hearing had been said, 
 
 Words that implied much blood would soon be shed 
 
 She heard of war : heard how the battle plain 
 
 Was strew'd with many a son and father, slain 
 
 By hands which should have guarded from the blow 
 
 A son or brother in that hour of woe. 
 
 How sad that British hearts should seek the life 
 
 Of British hearts in that disgraceful strife, 
 
 As though th' Atlantic's waves could wash away 
 
 The tie that bound them to Britannia's sway : 
 
 As though the Western world and Albion's isle, 
 
 Could not enjoy their heavenly father's smile, 
 
 And join in love and unity to bless 
 
 The God who reigns in love and righteousness.
 
 31 
 
 She too had learn' d the business that had brought 
 
 The soldiers to their lone and peaceful cot ; 
 
 They sought a colonel Sebright, who they said 
 
 Had join'd the British army, but had fled, 
 
 And lay conceal'd within the deepest shade 
 
 Of forest trees : she heard the schemes they laid 
 
 To take the fugitive ; she saw with dread 
 
 The look that o'er her husband's face was spread. 
 
 ' Mat saw him yesterday/ she heard him say, 
 
 Then with a look of dark revenge he gave 
 
 Direction to the lonely mountain cave. 
 
 The men departed : Mat approach' d the place 
 Where stood Rebecca, but her weeping face 
 And agitated mien awoke his fears : 
 ' Why Becca weep/ he cried, ' why him in tears ? 
 Dat something new I spec.' ' Mat no lub wife/ 
 ' What did you Becca say ? ' Then rose a strife 
 'Twixt anger and affection. Matthew lov'd 
 His wife with tenderness, and now was mov'd 
 With more than usual kindness, for he guess' d 
 Some load of grief her aching heart oppress' d. 
 ' Becca, what dat you say, what for him cry ? ' 
 ' Mat want to be a raurdar, else for why 
 Mat bring de soger here ? Him come to find 
 Young massa Sebright, dat did take and bind, 
 Did beat poor Mat, and den did Becca fly ;
 
 32 
 
 And now if Mat kill Massa, Becca die, 
 
 No live to be a murdar's wife' ; she cries, 
 
 With all the eloquence that mercy tries, 
 
 When pleading for the wretched. Christian love, 
 
 Imparted from the realms of bliss above, 
 
 Prevail' d o'er Mat : his angry passions fell, 
 
 SubduM at length by her he lov'd so well. 
 
 ' Becca, you right/ he cried, ' and Mat him brute, 
 
 Mat run and stop the Soger's quick pursuit, 
 
 Him sabe poor Massa.' ' Stop/ his wife replied, 
 
 ' Mat need not go to cave : dere Massa hide/ 
 
 In a recess behind her infant's cot, 
 Rebecca hid the fugitive : forgot, 
 At least forgave her master, all the pain 
 His cruelty had caused them to sustain. 
 Oh, who can tell the joy that shall be given 
 To him who labours in the cause of heaven ? 
 And if one crown of glory shines more bright 
 Than others, which adorn the sons of light, 
 Surely the missionary's head will bow 
 Beneath the crown that will invest his brow ; 
 Tor many a negro's penitential tear, 
 Shall sparkle with a brilliant lustre there. 
 Had not the zealous missionary sought 
 The untaught negro, would the noble thought 
 Have entered that poor darken'd mind, to save 
 And rescue his oppressor from the grave ?
 
 33 
 
 But how did Sebright meet the Christian slave, 
 Who thus had suffered, and who thus forgave ? 
 Pale, ghastly, worn with toil and want he stood, 
 Deprived of rest, of safety, and of food. 
 The heart of Mat was touch' d : he plac'd a seat, 
 With tender care invited him to eat ; 
 Gave him the best his little store supplied, 
 And smiled to find his guest was satisfied. 
 
 ' Matthew,' said Sebright, ' how can I repay 
 The kindness thou hast shewn to me this day ? 
 Thou art a noble fellow, Mat, while I 
 Am quite unworthy of thy sympathy. 
 Give me thy hand, and may the God of heaven, 
 Shew thee as freely all thy sins forgiven 
 As thou'st forgiven me. Yes, God is love, 
 And he beholds thee from his throne above/ 
 
 ' But Massa ' Matthew cried, ' de time pass on, 
 De sogers soon come back, dem long been gone ; 
 Mat know de way, him safely guide along, 
 Through dese dark .woods, fear massa should go 
 
 And now they take their midnight walk, and find 
 Fresh subjects occupy th' unwearied mind ; 
 Then liberty with all its blessings rose 
 As the best gift a gracious God bestows.
 
 34 
 
 To British hearts how dear is liberty, 
 
 How prized the word that set the captive free, 
 
 Unbound his fetters, bade his soul rejoice, 
 
 And listen to the sympathizing voice 
 
 Of Britain's sons, who own'd the negro slave 
 
 A brother in adversity, then gave 
 
 With truly Christian love their anxious thought 
 
 To rescue them from slavery's cruel lot. 
 
 That noble task in mercy was begun, 
 
 And ended by a splendid victory won ; 
 
 For negro slaves now look to England's shore 
 
 And bless the British hearts that now no more 
 
 Tell slavery waits them. Yes, from Britain's shore 
 
 Rose the glad cry that ' Slavery is no more/ 
 
 Then with what eloquence did Matthew plead ' . 
 
 The cause of freedom. ' Let de slave be freed, 
 
 And den will Massa happy be to find 
 
 De poor black negro hab a grateful mind/ 
 
 In silence Sebright listened, till a light 
 Broke in upon his soul : he felt 'twas right 
 What Mat had urg*d, yet still in thoughtful mood 
 He traversed silently the gloomy road. 
 At length the morn appeared, they reach'd the spot 
 Where Sebright' s friend resided, whom he sought ; 
 But when that friend beheld the Colonel's guide, 
 The negro Matthew by his master's side,
 
 35 
 
 Astonished, he exclaim' d, 'What! Sebright here, 
 Whilst Mat the runaway betrays no fear ? ' 
 
 ' Hush, hush, my friend/ the colonel quickly said, 
 Breathe not my name ; or rather let it spread 
 Throughout the land for this brave fellow's sake. 
 Hast thou a boat ? my flight I quickly take, 
 I seek the British shore, for whilst I tread 
 On Western land, around my path are spread 
 Death and destruction ; for the vengeful foe 
 Now seeks my life : and did not Matthew know 
 The Christian law which his forgiving wife 
 Acknowledges their only rule of life, 
 The mountain cave had been my dying bed, 
 Without a friend to raise my drooping head.' 
 
 Now quickly sails the bark along the stream 
 And lo ! poor Mat was left alone, to dream 
 In silence o'er events so new and strange ; 
 To wonder at his feelings ; at the change 
 He felt had taken place within his breast, 
 For every anxious passion was at rest. 
 
 An hour elapsed, when one appear' d, to say 
 That Sebright now was safely on his way. 
 
 ' What ! Massa gone, and no wish Mat good bye, 
 No wish poor Mat good morn, and dat for why ? '
 
 36 
 
 ' He was in haste/ the stranger cried ; * but stay, 
 This purse he left for thee, and bade me say 
 That Sebright's slaves henceforward shall be free 
 Know Mat, that blessing was obtained by thee. 
 All thanks thy former master now disclaims, 
 And bids his men for ever bless the names 
 Of Matthew and his wife ; those noble souls 
 Who own the law of God alone controls 
 And binds the Christian to forgive his foes ; 
 That law which no revengeful passion knows, 
 That bids the sinner when he looks to heaven 
 For pardon, shew his foes are all forgiven.
 
 THE OLD WEAVER. 
 
 Why wears that face a smile so sweet, 
 And whence that look of calm content ? 
 Say Robert, to thy lone retreat, 
 Has heaven its richest blessings sent ? 
 'Twas even so : the God of heaven, 
 To him a Saviour's love had given. 
 
 No wonder then a smile so bright, 
 
 Should o'er poor Robert's features spread ; 
 
 The soul redeem' d from endless night, 
 
 To heavenly contemplation led, 
 
 May smile 'midst thunder's loudest roar, 
 May smile when time shall be no more. 
 
 Retired, he shun'd th' abodes of men, 
 
 The scenes of worldly care and strife, 
 
 Secluded in his lonely glen ; 
 
 Where, with the partner of his life, 
 
 He pass'd his days in praise and prayer, 
 And blessed his God who plac'd him there.
 
 38 
 
 And oft would he delight to trace 
 
 The mercy of his heavenly guide, 
 
 AY ho check'd him in his dangerous race 
 
 Of sin, of folly, and of pride ; 
 
 When he forsook his home, to share 
 A soldier's life of toil and care. 
 
 But now no longer in the field, 
 With death and horror spread around, 
 His thoughts to mild contentment yield ; 
 He loves each sweet and tranquil sound, 
 
 Eesigning thoughts of sword and flame, 
 
 Again a weaver he became. 
 
 Yet though an heir of endless joy, 
 And rich in heavenly faith and love, 
 Sometimes would earthly cares annoy, 
 AVlrile travelling to his home above ; 
 
 And sometimes feebly has he sighed, 
 ' I hope the Lord will yet provide.' 
 
 Once : 'twas a week of anxious care, 
 A valued web was now complete, 
 The night was dark, the town was far 
 From poor old Eobert's lone retreat ; 
 The web aside well pleas' d he laid, 
 'Till to its owner 'twas convey' d.
 
 39 
 
 Just then a female traveller sought 
 A shelter through the dreary night ; 
 The weaver paus'd : ' the web' he thought, 
 * Is not my own ; can it be right 
 To trust a stranger in the cot 
 With such a web ? I fear 'tis not.' 
 
 The woman saw his anxious eyes 
 Pix'd on the web ; ' my friend,' she cried, 
 ' Let not a moment's doubt arise, 
 Nor let my prayer be now denied ; 
 
 "What surety shall I offer thee ? 
 
 The Saviour shall my surety be/ 
 
 ' The Saviour, say'st thou ? then remain, 
 Till morning dawn with us abide, 
 Thou'rt welcome ; for 'tis not in vain, 
 Thou hast that sacred name applied ; 
 On that dear name my soul relies, 
 That name my passport to the skies.' 
 
 The stranger stay'd : the shades of night 
 Were past ; but ere the morning sun 
 Had spread his beams of cheerful light, 
 She'd fled ; alas ! the web was gone : 
 
 Beneath a neighbouring hill she lay, 
 And waited there the close of day.
 
 40 
 
 Poor Robert ! sad was then thy grief, 
 What comfort could thy wife afford ? 
 One only thought could bring relief, 
 She said her surety was the Lord, 
 
 And he that surety long had tried ; 
 
 His God, his Saviour crucified. 
 
 But oh ! could trees or mountains hide 
 
 Prom God that false one who could dare, 
 
 Blaspheme the name of him who died 
 
 That sinners may his mercy share ? 
 
 She thought not while she lay conceal'd, 
 To him her crimes were all reveaPd. 
 
 She meant, when evening shades appeared, 
 
 To trace the way to her abode, 
 
 But ere the day had disappear' d, 
 
 A mist arose ; she lost her road : 
 
 Perplex' d, she stop'd, when through the trees, 
 "With joy a glimmering light she sees. 
 
 She hasten'd on, but now the light 
 
 Though faint, no longer can she see ; 
 
 ' Oh, how shall I endure this night, 
 
 Such darkness and such misery : ' 
 
 Again it shone, she sought the spot, 
 But knew not 'twas the weaver's cot.
 
 41 
 
 There was an eye upon her turn'd, 
 Th' attempt to shun that eye was vain, 
 And he whose honor stood concern 5 d, 
 Jealous that honor to sustain, 
 
 The web compelFd her to restore, 
 And led her to poor Robert's door. 
 
 Rejoicing now she reach'd the place, 
 Implor'd admittance for the night, 
 But who her thoughts, her fears could trace, 
 When poor old Robert met her sight ? 
 Soon was the stolen web return' d, 
 Nor was she from the cottage spurn' d. 
 
 For he who once, a soldier, pressed 
 Undaunted through the battle's din, 
 Now with a zeal as warm addressed 
 Each wanderer in the paths of sin : 
 
 How blest in Jesu's name could he 
 Proclaim o'er sin the victory. 
 
 Within that humble cot, behold 
 
 The faithful soldier of the cross, 
 
 In Jesu's service long enroll'd, 
 
 Who fear'd not pain, or want, or loss ; 
 Glad if to him the task were given, 
 To lead one suppliant heart to heaven.
 
 42 
 
 He spoke of sin's destructive power, 
 
 The dangerous path her feet had trod ; 
 
 'Oh how/ he ask'd, 'in life's last hour, 
 
 How wilt thou meet an angry God, 
 
 When the last trumpet wakes the dead, 
 Dread judgment bursting on thy head ? 
 
 Then may'st thou on the mountains call, 
 
 To hide thee from the judge's eye, 
 
 For know that justice then will fall 
 
 On those who mercy's call defy : 
 
 Oh ! now to mercy's call attend, 
 
 And beg that Christ will stand thy friend/ 
 
 Behold that guilty one, who dar'd 
 
 To act that base deceitful part ! 
 
 What misery can be e'er compar'd 
 
 With that dread agony of heart, 
 
 Which then her trembling soul nssail'd, 
 When, conscience struck, her fears prevailed ? 
 
 They knelt ; their prayers arose to heaven, 
 
 And God who hears the mourner's cry, 
 
 Accepted theirs : to her was given 
 
 Sweet consolation from on high ; 
 
 And much she lov'd the God of heaven, 
 For oh ! how much had he forgiven.
 
 And did not then the God of Light, 
 Approve that act of Christian love 
 In him who through that dreary night, 
 Had led her thoughts to worlds above ? 
 Angels rejoice 'midst glory's blaze, 
 And cry, ' behold ! yon sinner prays ! ' 
 
 Well might' st thou, good old man, rejoice ; 
 
 Still wear those smiles of heavenly love, 
 
 'Till thou shalt hear thy Saviour's voice, 
 
 Call thee to realms of bliss above ; 
 Thy conflict and thy warfare o'er, 
 Thou'lt hear the sound of war no more. 
 
 And why poor traveller on thy way, 
 
 Why should'st thou stand, why raise thine eye ? 
 
 Why move, and then thy footsteps stay, 
 
 As though thy looks could pierce the sky ? 
 
 Well may'st thou, lost in thought, retrace 
 The wonders of redeeming grace. 
 
 Yes thou, poor sinner, thou hast found, 
 That peace which from repentance flows ; 
 Yes, thou hast heard the joyful sound, 
 The ransom'd sinner only knows. 
 
 'Twas mercy's voice which vspoke to thee, 
 
 And led thv soul to Calvary.
 
 WILLIAM AND MARY. 
 
 The sun shone forth in all his splendid rays, 
 Gladdening each village scene ; the feather'd tribe 
 Rejoiced aloud, and warbling through the grove 
 Sent forth their songs to heaven. The peaceful rill 
 That gently murmur 'd through the fragrant meads, 
 That seem'd to speak of peace. But there was one . 
 Who heard unmov'd that gently flowing rill, 
 Who saw unmov'd the sun's all glorious beams 
 Gild the far distant hills, without one look 
 Of pleasure and delight. No, for her heart was sad ; 
 The cheerful songsters of the leafy grove 
 As vainly warbled forth their sweetest notes, 
 Her ear received them not, she thought of home, 
 That home to her how chaug'd ! her William too, 
 The partner of her life, how was he chang'd; 
 Where are those smiles which brightened every look 
 When she went forth to meet him ? ' are they gone/ 
 She cried, ' for ever ? will he never more 
 Speak joy and comfort to this sorrowing heart ?
 
 45 
 
 Oh ! William, could'st thou know how earnestly 
 
 Fve pray'd for thee, e'en when thy anger rose 
 
 To such a fearful height ; oh ! yes, e'en then, 
 
 When thou could'st sternly shut thy cottage door, 
 
 Nor let thy Mary enter. More than once 
 
 Hast thou too cruelly denied a home 
 
 To her who in the silent fields, whole nights, 
 
 Has wept and pray'd for blessings on thy head; 
 
 And though, e'en now, thy angry, cruel frowns 
 
 Must be my lot, yet will I pray for thee : 
 
 And could these trees, these birds, and yon bright sun, 
 
 Bear witness to my Vows, I'd call on them 
 
 To see, to hear, with what an earnest zeal 
 
 I'd plead thy cause with heaven. And till that sun 
 
 Again I shall behold as now he shines, 
 
 'Till spring again renew in all its bloom, 
 
 Those trees as lovely as they now appear 
 
 In their luxuriant dress ; and those sweet birds 
 
 Again shall chant their praises to high heaven, 
 
 Each day at noon will I devote one hour 
 
 To intercede for thee. Alas ! thy love 
 
 I must not hope for ; though too well I know 
 
 How soon I could regain thy lost regard. 
 
 But no, it must not be ; my God, forbid 
 
 That I should e'er forsake thee ; should thy will 
 
 Allot me still a life of care and woe, 
 
 Oh ! give me strength from heaven, I will be thine, 
 
 Though earth, with all her pleasures spread around, 
 
 L
 
 46 
 
 Conspire to tear me from thee/ Strength was given 
 
 To keep her in the path of holiness ; 
 
 Even while she ask'd, a heavenly peace and joy 
 
 Descended from above : she felt that God 
 
 Would guide her through life's journey, and she felt 
 
 A firm reliance on Jehovah's word, 
 
 Which never did, which never can deceive. 
 
 When Mary reach' d her home her heart was full ; 
 
 The cherish' d hope that God would hear her prayer, 
 
 And bless poor William too, rose bright within, 
 
 Until the tears she vainly strove to check, 
 
 Roll'd down her pallid cheeks : 'what, ever thus? 
 
 Still drowned in tears ? ' the angry William cried, 
 
 ' Must this excess of folly never end ? 
 
 And this is thy religion : Mary, hear ; 
 
 Once more I tell thee calmly 'twill not do, 
 
 Expect not kindness, gentleness from me, 
 
 Whilst thou art deaf to reason. If my will 
 
 Is thus to be despis'd, be slighted thus, 
 
 Thou will not find me other than I am. 
 
 When first I knew thee thou wast all I wished, 
 
 All mirth and gaiety, all life and joy ; 
 
 Be what thou wast, and thou shalt find me still 
 
 All thou canst wish or hope : take thy own way, 
 
 But rest assured deep sorrow will be thine/ 
 
 1 William/ she cried, ' I must obey my God 
 Who gave me life, He mark'd for me my path,
 
 47 
 
 And if 'twere rougher still, it must be mine. 
 How is it I offend ? say, have I been 
 Less kind to thee, less diligent to please, 
 Since, having found I have a friend in heaven, 
 I strive to serve him too ? Believe it not ; 
 Thinkest thou I could requite his love to me 
 By slighting thee ? His will is best obeyed 
 By humbly treading in the Saviour's steps, 
 Whose life was that of love. Where'er he went 
 Humility and lowliness of mind 
 Shone brightly there, and never may I dare 
 Offend by discord, Him whose law is peace. 
 Those tears I could not hide, were not the tears 
 That flow from grief, my heart was full of joy, 
 I hoped my prayers were heard, I also hoped ' 
 
 ' Peace/ William cried, ' I will not hear thee talk 
 Of thy religion, what's thy God to me ? 
 To such weak notions must I be the slave ? ' 
 
 She answer' d not, for well did Mary know 
 She could not glorify the God she loved 
 By rousing angry passions ; no, she sought 
 By mildness and forbearance to allay 
 Each rising discord, for she judg'd the guilt 
 Would then be hers, had she by crossing him 
 Induced an impious word. Mary withdrew 
 And sought a blessing from the God of peace.
 
 48 
 
 Again the seasons roll'd their annual round ; 
 The fields and trees were clad in brightest green ; 
 The birds as sweetly warbled from the spray, 
 As well as when, twelve months before, her heart 
 With grief oppress' d, had wander' d forth and pray'd 
 For him she lov'd. And still each day at noon, 
 She sought her God for him ; but twelve long months 
 Had yet reveal' d no change : the night drew on, 
 She watch'd for his return with anxious heart, 
 And almost ventur'd to indulge the hope 
 Her prayers would yet be heard : at length he came ; 
 But oh ! unkindness mark'd each word he spoke, 
 Yet she with patience bore his cruel wrongs. 
 
 She sought her lonely bower ; the moon arose 
 And cast her silver light across the path 
 Which led to her retreat ; ' my God/ she cried, 
 ' Yet grant me strength renew' d to bear the cross 
 Thou hast to me asssign'd ; oh ! may that faith 
 Thy mercy has afforded, shed her light 
 O'er all my steps, that so I may sustain 
 The Christian's lot unmov'd : let not a cloud 
 Of dark distrust forbid my hope in thee : 
 May its mild rays be still as clearly thine, 
 Deriv'd as purely from the God of heaven, 
 As those bright, silv ry beams, derive their light 
 From their resplendent source, day's glorious orb.' 
 Hope did not quite forsake her, and a ray
 
 49 
 
 Cheer'd her sad heart. ' I yet will pray/ she said, 
 ' Full six months longer, and perhaps my God 
 May look in pity on me : if he then 
 Rejects my prayer, though dreadful is the thought, 
 I must not, dare not longer urge my suit.' 
 
 Winter approach'd ; Mary had daily sought 
 Her wonted place of prayer. The day arriv'd 
 When she resolv'd to leave her cause with God. 
 Alas ! no change appeared in William's life, 
 Sullen he left his home, no kind farewell 
 Eeviv'd her drooping soul ; with pain she read, 
 E'en in his looks, his hatred to his God. 
 
 ' And must I now forbear to pray for him, 
 And leave him to his God ? ' poor Mary cried : 
 Oh ! yes, once more Til seek that boon from heaven, 
 That blessing which I fear will be denied.' 
 
 The hour of noon arriv'd, and Mary sought 
 Once more her calm retreat ; she greatly fear'd 
 She might be led to murmur at the will 
 Of him who reigns in righteousness and love. 
 
 ' Father of mercies, as it is thy will 
 To keep me longer in this vale of tears, 
 Oh ! give me patience ; let me not repine, 
 Although my fervent prayers may be denied. 
 Still let me hope that he for whom I plead 
 
 M
 
 50 
 
 May jet be snatchM from ruin's fearful gulph, 
 And sav'd from endless woe. And now my God 
 I leave him in thy hands ; the hour is come 
 On which my hopes of joy and comfort hung, 
 And yet it brings not joy.' Slowly and sad 
 She left the spot as one resign' d to woe. 
 ' And must I not petition for thee more, 
 My poor lost William ! no, my suit is o'er, 
 And thou, alas !' she felt o'erwhelm'd with grief, 
 'Twas agony to think, yet vain the hope 
 To banish from her heart her load of care . 
 
 The shades of night drew on ; William return' d 
 Depressed and sad ; Mary observ'd his grief. 
 
 ' William, thou art not well/ she gently said ; 
 ' Has any thing distress' d thee? art thou ill? ' 
 He spoke not, for he seem'd as one oppressed 
 With grief too deep for utterance ; at length 
 A long, deep sigh, relieved his aching breast. 
 
 ' Mary,' he cried, ' canst thou forgive e'en me ? 
 
 No, 'tis too much to hope, yet thou hast borne 
 
 Such cruel injuries so patiently, 
 
 I almost think thou canst/ ' Can I forgive ? 
 
 Oh ! William, ask me not ; these tears must speak 
 
 Thy full and free forgiveness.' ' 'Tis enough/ 
 
 William replied, ' so oft thou hast forgiven,
 
 51 
 
 I will not doubt it now. But there's a God 
 
 Who hates oppression, cruelty, and vice ; 
 
 He cannot look on me but to condemn, 
 
 I cannot, dare not ask him to forgive ; 
 
 But Mary, thou hast found a friend in him, 
 
 And 'tis thy happiness to seek his throne ; 
 
 Oh ! when thou dost approach him, when his ear 
 
 Inclines to thy requests, then plead for one 
 
 Who dares not for himself.' ' But why despair, ' 
 
 She cried, ' hast thou not heard that God delights 
 
 To grant his mercy to the contrite heart ? 
 
 The tear of penitence he loves to see : 
 
 He will accept thy prayer.' ' Oh ! say not so/ 
 
 He cried, ' thou dost not know the weight of woe 
 
 I have to bear. This day, at noon, the thought 
 
 That I must stand before a righteous judge, 
 
 O'erwhelm'd my soul : I felt that I was lost, 
 
 And lost I am, I know, I feel it so ; 
 
 I've sinn'd past all forgiveness, I've presum'd 
 
 To scorn, revile the great Redeemer's name, 
 
 And oh ! how deeply have I injured thee.' 
 
 'William' she cried, ' had all the griefs I've borne 
 Been tenfold what they were, I yet would bear, 
 Could joyfully receive them, did they bring 
 Such joy as this ; yes, such an hour as this 
 Would well outweigh a life of care and pain, 
 Such mercy so despair'd of, so desir'd.'
 
 52 
 
 Speakest thou of mercy Mary, when tkou know'st 
 
 How surely T am lost ? there is no hope for me 
 
 Which I can rest upon.' ' No hope/ she cried, 
 
 ' Behold the night, how dark ; see, not a star 
 
 Illumes the vast expanse, how dark and drear, 
 
 And yet as surely as the morning sun 
 
 Again shall re-appear, so shall the sun, 
 
 The glorious sun of righteousness, arise 
 
 And shine upon thy soul ; for know that God, 
 
 The God of heaven, has said, the prayer of faith 
 
 Shall not be made in vain.' Mary's was heard ; 
 
 The sun of righteousness arose on him 
 
 For whom she long had pray'd, and now appear'd 
 
 With healing on his wings, and he was blest.
 
 EDWIN. 
 
 On a green bank with fragrant flowerets deck'd, 
 
 An aged man reclin'd ; near him a youth, 
 
 Whose bright black eyes and glowing cheek of health 
 
 Bespoke a heart as yet unknown to care ; 
 
 The lovely bloom of youth seem'd heightened far 
 
 When placed in contrast with the drooping age 
 
 And bending body of his dearest friend, 
 
 Whose silver locks proclaimed the hand of time ; 
 
 Yet had not time done all, for poignant grief 
 
 Had heap'd its snows upon his aching head, 
 
 And mark'd deep furrows on his pallid cheeks. 
 
 On rising ground, above a chrystal stream, 
 A modest dwelling rose ; 'twas Edwin's home : 
 A well stock'd farm, whose fields of golden corn, 
 And orchards bending 'ncatli their load of fruit, 
 Promised to yield the most abundant crops.
 
 54 
 
 The lowing cattle graz'd beneath the shade 
 Of aged oaks, and seem'd t' enjoy the scene 
 Of varied beauties nature strew'd around. 
 With soften' d rays the splendid orb of day 
 SmiTd on luxuriant woods : a purple hue 
 Was shed o'er all the vale ; the verdant lawns 
 A grateful fragrance yield ; the eglantine, 
 With perfum'd dematis and blushing rose, 
 Unite their sweets and breathe rich odours round . 
 It was an eve that well might draw, afar 
 From crowded towns or deep sequester' d dells, 
 Those who delight in nature's loveliest scenes, 
 And hi the works of God behold his hand. 
 
 ' My boy/ the good old man exclaim' d, ' behold 
 Yon village church ! see how the setting sun 
 Illumes the sacred fane ! how beautiful 
 Those brilliant rays of burnished gold appear, 
 And may the sun with all his splendour grace 
 A house devoted to the God of heaven, 
 To holy contemplation and to prayer. 
 
 ' I well remember, Edwin, when a boy, 
 
 Entering a market town : it was at eve : 
 
 I pass'd through crowded streets, the windows blaz'd 
 
 With brilliant lights ; nought but the sound of joy 
 
 Could be distinguished there. I ask'd the cause, 
 
 And soon T learnt that peace had been proclaimed ;
 
 55 
 
 The vanquish'd foes had left the battle field, 
 
 Laid down their arms, and offered terms of peace ; 
 
 And when returning from the busy town' 
 
 To gain my tranquil home, then did my friend 
 
 Explain to me the nature of that peace 
 
 Of which I'd heard so much ; describ'd the grief 
 
 Of those who by their conquering foes were led 
 
 To share the prisoners' fate, where, far from home, 
 
 They pin'd in sad captivity. Then came 
 
 The wish'd for ransom : then their hearts rejoiced, 
 
 And gloried in the blissful sounds of peace. 
 
 ' But Edwin tliou canst now behold that view, 
 
 Yon windows gilded with the splendid rays 
 
 Of day's bright luminary ; thou canst feel 
 
 A peace more solid, which the world knows not. 
 
 Gladly hast thou receiv'd the joyful news 
 
 Proclaimed within those walls to ransomed souls. 
 
 But Edwin ' here he paus'd ; the glistening tear 
 
 Had dimm'd Ins eye : ' But what? oh ! say, my friend, 
 
 The youth exclaim' d, ' hast thou an anxious fear 
 
 My future conduct should destroy thy peace, 
 
 And darken thy declining years ? oh ! say, 
 
 Hast thou beheld conceaTd within my heart 
 
 Such deep ingratitude ? If so, farewell ! 
 
 Thou canst not feel an interest in one 
 
 Who thus would prove so base.' The old man smiled, 
 
 And kindly press'd the hand held out to him :
 
 56 
 
 ' Not yet, my boy/ he cried, ' restrain thy warmth, 
 
 I know the ardent feelings of thy soul ; 
 
 Though far advanced in years, I can recall 
 
 The wilful scenes of my impetuous youth, 
 
 When giddily I ran my wayward course ; 
 
 "Pis therefore that I warn thee of the snares 
 
 Laid to allure thy unsuspecting age : 
 
 To morrow thou must leave us ; leave thy home, 
 
 To enter on a world by thee untried. 
 
 Could'st thou but know the treachery of its smiles, 
 
 Its deep laid schemes to tempt unwary youth, 
 
 Thou would'st exclaim, ' oh ! how shall one so young, 
 
 Eesist each strong temptation, and remain 
 
 Untouch'd by vice ? ' Edwin, there is one path 
 
 That thou may'st safely tread ; that one thou'st tried, 
 
 And found it safe. But oh ! dear youth, beware, 
 
 Should'st thou be drawn aside, forsake thy God, 
 
 Neglect thy duties, what must follow then ? 
 
 Thy father must by sad experience learn 
 
 He had too fondly trusted in thy strength, 
 
 And live to mourn his hapless Edwin's fall ; 
 
 Thy mother, that dear object of thy love ' 
 
 1 My mother hold, my friend, oh ! speak not thus ! 
 Grieve her fond heart ? no, could I dare resist 
 My Saviour and my God, defy his power, 
 And prove a base apostate, yet even then 
 Think'st thou I could forget a mother's love ?
 
 57 
 
 Repay with grief her kind maternal care ? 
 No, when I can repay a mother's love, 
 That nourished me through infancy and youth, 
 With such unkind returns, and by one act, 
 Unworthy of her care, wound that fond heart, 
 May stern misfortune shed her direst woes 
 Round the ungrateful Edwin. Then, my friend, 
 Fd bear the keen reproach : 'twould be deserved.' 
 
 ' Edwin, should' st thou forsake thy heavenly friend, 
 
 Despise the sacred words of holy Avrit, 
 
 If sinners should entice, and thou consent 
 
 To tread forbidden paths ; dread not my frown : 
 
 When conscience speaks, fear not reproach from me, 
 
 For then thou wilt have learnt how bitter 'tis, 
 
 To bear the frowns of an offended God/ 
 
 And now they rose to part, yet linger' d still ; 
 They paused ere they pursued their homeward way ; 
 At length the old man spoke : ' Edwin, my boy, 
 Whilst thou art absent, I shall often seek 
 This verdant bank, and I shall think of thee 
 As of a friend who holds the dearest place 
 Within my heart. When thou wast yet a child, 
 Thy fond endearments sooth' d my troubled mind ; 
 When death had borne my last surviving friend 
 Beyond a mortal's reach, 'twas then it seem'd 
 As though my God, in pity to my woes, 
 o
 
 Sent thee, a little cherub from the skies, 
 
 To soothe my grief; and from that time till now 
 
 Thou hast been a son to me. How shall I miss 
 
 Thee, my beloved friend ! but we must part, 
 
 And three long years must pass ere I may see . 
 
 My boy again. Yet stay, once more with me 
 
 Behold that glorious view ! 'tis what will soothe 
 
 And cheer my mind when thou art far away ; 
 
 But only when the sun shall lend his rays 
 
 To gild that holy structure, shall I reach 
 
 This lovely spot ; for should a cloud arise 
 
 And dim its lustre, then perchance, my mind, 
 
 Tinged with the spreading gloom, may thence forebode 
 
 Some sorrow to my boy. Yes, I may fear 
 
 That thou, by some unwary step, hast lost 
 
 That heavenly peace, the sunshine of thy soul. 
 
 Forgive me, Edwin, if my words offend ; 
 
 Remember, 'tis the privilege of age 
 
 To counsel youth, and now once more farewell.' 
 
 The morning's dawn beheld the youth depart, 
 But tears of fond affection rendered vain 
 Th' attempt to speak. The sad adieu, alas ! 
 Died on his lips, and when his mother's voice 
 RecalTd him for another fond embrace, 
 He felt how matchless was a mother's love. 
 
 Since Edwin left his home, three tedious years 
 Had pass'd away ; and now the father's heart
 
 59 
 
 Beat high in expectation, and he long'd 
 To fold his Edwin to his heart ; alas ! 
 The time pass'd on, and yet he saw him not. 
 The mother slept beneath the yew tree's shade> 
 Hers was a rest unbroken by the storms, 
 However wild and fierce. Her soul was safe 
 Beyond the reach of every earthly care. 
 
 One sultry day an aged man was seen, 
 Fatigued with long exertion : he reclin'd 
 Beneath a spreading tree, for many a mile 
 Now lay between him and his home ; and yet 
 Far distant was the town he sought : but why 
 Did he thus wander on ? why thus pursue 
 His journey ere he felt himself refresh'd ? 
 Alas ! poor Godfrey's heart was ill at ease, 
 For daily at the farm had he enquired 
 If any tidings had been heard of him 
 Whom his soul lov'd. But disappointment still 
 Had follow' d him. One day he had been there 
 But still in vain ; his path led near the spot 
 He lov'd for Edwin's sake. Once more he sat 
 Upon the grassy mount ; the radiant sun 
 In all his splendour setting, shed his beams 
 Upon the church where he and Edwin oft 
 Had hail'd the sabbath morn ; but 'twas not long 
 Ere a dark cloud o'erspread the fields with gloom, 
 Loud thunders echoed from the neighbouring hills,
 
 While many a vivid flash was seen to play 
 
 Across the darkened skies ; at length descending rain 
 
 Compell' d him to depart. He sought his home 
 
 "Wearied and sad. 'Twas the first time he'd seen 
 
 A cloud rest on that spot. ' My God/ he cried, 
 
 ' Is this an emblem of my Edwin's fate ? 
 
 Oh ! if my boy has trifled with that peace 
 
 He once enjoyed ; lightly esteem' d that gift 
 
 By heaven bestow'd ; if he, alas ! has heard 
 
 And yielded to temptation's voice, and thus 
 
 Has brought a flood of sorrow on his soul ; 
 
 Then, oh ! my heavenly father, let me be 
 
 The bearer of some promis'd good to him ; 
 
 Let me once more behold thy pardoning love 
 
 Cheer his repentant soul ; may the last act 
 
 Of my declining years restore my boy, 
 
 Reclaim his wandering heart : then may I close 
 
 These aged eyes for ever on a world 
 
 Of sin and sorrow.' Such was Godfrey's prayer : 
 
 'Twas therefore that the good old man pursued 
 
 With unabated zeal his weary way. 
 
 He gain'd the town, he travers'd many a street, 
 
 Till worn by long fatigue, o'ercome by grief, 
 
 His spirits fail'd him, and a flood of tears 
 
 Betray'd how much he felt. A flight of steps 
 
 Was there, on which reposing, he had found 
 
 A short relief ; he cast his eyes around, 
 
 And from a neighbouring tavern he beheld
 
 61 
 
 Many pass by him : some inflam'd by wine, 
 
 Seem'd by their mirth to glory in their sin. 
 
 Others were there whose features spoke excess, 
 
 But they seem'd sad ; for dissipation yet 
 
 Had fail'd to harden them, and deep remorse 
 
 Prey'd keenly on their minds ; though wanting strength 
 
 To break the enticing charms, they sought it not 
 
 From that one source that fails not, from their God ; 
 
 And thus they sinn'd and thus they sorrow'd still. 
 
 But there was one who yet remained within, 
 
 Whose pallid cheeks, whose anxious looks betray' d 
 
 That peace had ceased to be an inmate there. 
 
 What? was his game unfinished that he stay'd? 
 
 Or did he yet require another glass 
 
 To drown the voice of conscience ? soon he rose, 
 
 And from an open window saw his friend, 
 
 The aged Godfrey. Then a tide of joy 
 
 Plowed to his aching heart, and at that sight, 
 
 For one delightful moment he forgot 
 
 He was not what he had been ; he forgot 
 
 His sin and sorrow, all the painful past 
 
 Had vanished from his mind, he turn'd to seek 
 
 One so beloved; but ere he reach' d the door, 
 
 Various and mingled feelings o'er his heart 
 
 Eush'd in such wild confusion, that he stood 
 
 Immoveable ; then pride, repentance, shame, 
 
 And the base charge of vile ingratitude, 
 
 The dread of meeting that kind monitor 
 
 He had so deeply wounded, all conspired
 
 62 
 
 To overwhelm his soul. Then thoughts of home, 
 Thoughts of those dear neglected parents, left 
 To mourn his errors, Avith resistless force 
 ImpelTd him onward ; soon the steps were gain'd. 
 
 ' Godfrey, my friend,' he cried, ' say, by that name 
 May I address thee now ? I have deserv'd 
 Thy stern rebuke, and yet thou dost not frown/ 
 
 ' My Edwin, can I frown on one whose heart 
 
 Is torn with sad remorse ? thou need'st not say 
 
 How bitterly thou'st felt the keen reproach 
 
 Of an awaken' d conscience. I can trace 
 
 Deep marks of sorrow on thy alter' d face; 
 
 Sin ever leads to sorrow, yet apply 
 
 To him who will not break the bruised reed, 
 
 To him who loves to heal the broken heart, 
 
 Tor Edwin I have that to say to thee, 
 
 Will make his succour needful ; start not thus, 
 
 It cannot be concealed : then know, dear youth, 
 
 Thy mother lives not, with her dying breath 
 
 She bade me bear her blessing to her son. 
 
 But haste to that dear parent that remains, 
 
 And with redoubled tenderness repay 
 
 His love to thee. How anxiously he longs 
 
 For thy return.' But Edwin heard him not : 
 
 'Twas thus the storm that Godfrey long had fear'd, 
 
 Descended in its wrath, and for a time 
 
 His reason yielded to the sudden shock ; 
 
 He knew not that beside him sat his friend,
 
 63 
 
 Whose eager eye awaited the first glance 
 
 Of consciousness ; nor had he long to wait ; 
 
 No, for that power by whose permission fell 
 
 A storm so heavy, bade the tempest cease, 
 
 And guided by that power they reached 
 
 Their wish'd for home ; that home, to Edwin's eyes, 
 
 How alter' d now. His father welcom'd him 
 
 With tears of joy ; he pressed him to his breast 
 
 With deep and strong emotion, but a sigh 
 
 Would oft escape when he would fain have smiTd 
 
 On his belov'd son : but when the youth 
 
 Beheld the vacant seat where one so lov'd 
 
 Was wont to sit, ( Mother,' he sadly cried, 
 
 ' Mother ! my mother ! could' st thou tell me now 
 
 I never griev'd thy heart ; oh ! could' st thou say 
 
 I did not hasten thee to yon cold grave, 
 
 What would I give ? but could' st thou see thy son, 
 
 Behold his aching heart, see his distress, 
 
 Thou would'st forgive him now.' ' Be comforted/ 
 
 Exclaim' d his father, ' for she never knew 
 
 Her Edwin had neglected to fulfil 
 
 His sacred duties. With her latest breath 
 
 She blest her son/ 'Then I am blest indeed, 
 
 That glad assurance cheers my drooping heart, 
 
 And speaks of peace a gain/ And peace once more 
 
 Resum'd its influence there. Henceforth to tread 
 
 The path of duty was his happy choice, 
 
 And well did he repay the debt of love 
 
 He owed his sire, now more than ever dear.
 
 THE MINSTREL. 
 
 The minstrel had sought a lonely spot, 
 
 From life's gay scenes retiring, 
 
 And he loved that peaceful, that lowly cot, 
 
 No wealth or fame desiring : 
 
 Though oft he'd wak'd his harp's wild strain 
 
 To notes of gladness swelling, 
 
 Where pleasure had held her magic reign, 
 
 In many a lordly dwelling. 
 
 And many a lay had the minstrel sung, 
 
 With deeds of valour teeming ; 
 
 How the victor's brow was with laurels hung, 
 
 While fame's bright rays were beaming : 
 
 And many a knight could the minstrel name, 
 
 From distant wars returning, 
 
 Who had hasten'd his lady love to claim, 
 
 The reward of his valour earning. 
 
 And many a rustic lay would he tune, 
 Of the hapless village maiden,
 
 Co 
 
 Who stray' d by tlie light of the silver moon, 
 
 Her heart with sorrow laden. 
 
 Why sits he now with pensive air, 
 
 On his moss-grown seat reclining ? 
 
 Why all unstrung should his harp lie there, 
 
 Its sweetest strains declining ? 
 
 The minstrel had been his Redeemer's love 
 
 With the love of the world comparing, 
 
 And his thoughts were lost in the joys above, 
 
 That the souls of the blest are sharing ; 
 
 And he thought of the last expiring breath 
 
 Of the Saviour for sinners given, 
 
 How his Maker had suffer' d so dread a death, 
 
 To bear lost souls to heaven. 
 
 ' The martyr/ he cried, ' has sought the stake, 
 
 No pain or anguish dreading, 
 
 Nor shunn'd for his kind Redeemer's sake, 
 
 The flames around him spreading : 
 
 But he knew that the Saviour his life had given, 
 
 His soul from death restoring, 
 
 And he long'd with the ransom'd hosts in heaven, 
 
 To be ever his God adoring.' 
 
 ' The parent to save a drowning son, 
 In nature's keen emotion, 
 Has rush'd to save his beloved one, 
 And snatch him from the ocean : 
 
 Q
 
 66 
 
 But 'twas his child, his beloved child, 
 Beneath the billows sinking, 
 That fir'd his heart with a courage wild, 
 Prom death nor danger shrinking/ 
 
 ' The patriot with a zeal as warm, 
 
 His country's rights defending, 
 
 Has nobly braved the approaching storm , 
 
 O'er his fated head impending : 
 
 But not for his foes did his life's blood flow, 
 
 'Twas his country's cause he cherished, 
 
 For his country's welfare he met the blow, 
 
 For the land of his birth he perished/ 
 
 ' The soldier/ he cried, ' to the field has rush'd, 
 
 His brave heart death defying ; 
 
 His parents' hopes in one moment crush'd, 
 
 Their prayers and tears denying : 
 
 He heeded not, for his vengeful sword, 
 
 With the life of his foes was reeking ; 
 
 To the victor's crown his ambition soar'd, 
 
 The reward of glory seeking/ 
 
 Thus thought the bard, when a sudden glow, 
 
 His soul with rapture raising, 
 
 He seiz'd his harp that its strains may flow, 
 
 The love of his Saviour praising : 
 
 The lyre was tun'd, the touch was given,
 
 The chords were richly bieL ',.!, 
 
 When the melody which had jeem'd from heaven, 
 
 As suddenly was ended. 
 
 For the minstrel ceas'd, he'd raised his eyes, 
 His heart was with reverence glowing ; 
 And he thought of the joys beyond the skies, 
 In streams celestial flowing : 
 Eye hath not seen since time began, 
 
 rf \j * 
 
 To the ear hath it not been given, 
 
 Nor has been conceived by the mind of man, 
 
 The joy, the bliss of heaven. 
 
 Be still, my harp, be hush'd my lays, 
 From that great theme receding, 
 Sublimer strains must speak the praise, 
 My feeble powers exceeding. 
 But now the hand that could tune that lyre, 
 Yet humbly those strains resigning, 
 Is employ' d with the full celestial choir, 
 In realms of glory shining.
 
 THE MOTHER'S PRAYER. 
 
 The mother had watch' d her infant boy, 
 With a love the mother alone can know, 
 There were cares and fears, yet hope and joy, 
 Would o'er her path their pleasures throw. 
 
 But as helpless infancy gave place, 
 And childhood's bloom was rising fair, 
 She long'd in his opening mind to trace, 
 Some buds of grace unfolding there. 
 
 ' Oh ! could my boy,' she fondly cried, 
 ' Bow to the great Redeemer's will, 
 Entreat his God to be his guide, 
 Through every scene of good or ill ; 
 
 Then would my anxious fears subside, 
 Could I behold him firmly rest 
 His hopes in Jesus crucified, 
 In whom alone he may be blest.
 
 CD 
 And still she sought \vith unwearied zeal. 
 
 o * 
 
 For him the first best gift of heaven, 
 And felt as a parent alone can feel, 
 How sacred a charge to her was given. 
 
 Yet well she knew how vain the toil, 
 Unblest the precious seed to cast ; 
 A hand divine must prepare the soil, 
 And screen it from tempest's chilling blast. 
 
 That hand must send the gentle rain, 
 Bright sunbeams and soft morning dew, 
 Ere we the wish'd for buds obtain, 
 Or ripening fruits with gladness view. 
 
 At length the final hour drew nigh, 
 When she must arise to meet her God, 
 But she viewed her home beyond the sky, 
 Nor feared to lie beneath the sod. 
 
 She knew a state of perfect joy 
 Awaited her ransomed soul in heaven, 
 Yet still she pray'd that her wayward boy, 
 May be led to seek for sins forgiven. 
 
 Beside her dying bed he stood, 
 And then the mother beheld a tear, 
 But 'twas not the tear of pride subdu'd, 
 No trace of penitence was there. 
 
 R
 
 70 
 
 And though the mother perceiv'd a sigh, 
 "Twas not the -sigh of holy fear, 
 Alas ! no deep repentant cry, 
 Arose upon that dying ear. 
 
 But ere that happy soul had gain'd 
 The realms of bliss, beside her bed 
 Stood one who the task had long sustained , 
 To teach the way that to glory led. 
 
 She seiz'd his hand, and gently plac'd 
 Her son's with his ; then breath'd a prayer, 
 That from that hour her son may haste 
 And seek a Saviour's love to share. 
 
 Then to bright realms of glory soar'd 
 That happy spirit for ever blest, 
 And weeping friends her loss deplor'd, 
 And laid her low in her peaceful rest. 
 
 But when the silent tomb was left, 
 That fond fond mother for ever gone, 
 Of her prayers, of her counsels all bereft, 
 Then on the youth rose mercy's dawn. 
 
 Then broke upon his mind a ray 
 
 Of light till now unseen ; he felt 
 
 How dear was the mother who thus could pray, 
 
 For one who to heaven had never knelt.
 
 71 
 
 And dear was that friend on whom he lean'd, 
 Who pointed his trembling soul to heaven, 
 When now, from his sinful follies wean'd, 
 He sought and hoped to be forgiven. 
 
 Thus as the sun's meridian blaze, 
 Each frozen field and tree renew' d, 
 Thus mercy's mild and genial rays, 
 With heavenly love that heart subdued. 
 
 And the deeply penitential sigh, 
 
 Arose to heaven with many a tear, 
 
 And the breaking heart and the weeping eye, 
 
 Obtain' d an answer of mercy there. 
 
 Nor did he question the God of heaven, 
 Why thus was richest grace delay' d ; 
 Why was not an answer of mercy given, 
 To her who was in the cold tomb laid. 
 
 ' Oh ! what can I render my God,' he cried, 
 ' For mercy so gracious, so divine ? 
 I'll trust in the Saviour crucified, 
 And to him my heart, my life resign.' 
 
 And he look'd by faith beyond the skies, 
 As his future home of heavenly joy, 
 And dearly that mother's love would prize, 
 Whose prayers were heard for her erring boy.
 
 ALFRED. 
 
 ' My mother/ exclaimed the playful boy, 
 As he stood erect with an air of pride, 
 ' I'm form'd for arms ; 'twill be my joy, 
 To take some hero for my guide : 
 I'll put all coward fears to shame, 
 The path of danger bravely daring, 
 I'll win the conqueror's glorious name, 
 The laurel wreath with honor wearing ; 
 And then, dear mother, I'll come to thee, 
 And thy blessing shall crown my victory/ 
 
 He ceas'd ; but to her anxious mind, 
 Rose all a mother's tenderest fears ; 
 In Alfred she had hoped to find 
 The stay of her declining years ; 
 She fondly look'd on her darling boy, 
 The image of one she long had wept. 
 The partner of each care and joy 
 In the lone church-yard silent slept ;
 
 73 
 
 And patiently she long had sought 
 
 Each rising murmur to restrain, 
 
 To check the sad rebellious thought, 
 
 Nor had her efforts been in vain. 
 
 ''Thou did'st not know, my child/ she cried, 
 
 ' Those words could cause such heartfelt pain, 
 
 Thou hast not thought how long I've tried 
 
 Thy fond affection to retain ; 
 
 Or thou had'st not cherish' d a thought for me 
 
 So full of sorrow and misery. 
 
 That cheek must wear a deeper bloom, 
 
 That eye must beam with a brighter fire, 
 
 That voice a deeper tone assume, 
 
 Ere thou to the warrior's fame aspire ; 
 
 Thou'st heard with youth's impassioned glow, 
 
 How many a dauntless heart has bled 
 
 Beneath the victor's direful blow, 
 
 And gain'd his glory 'midst heaps of dead. 
 
 But the soldier's home thou hast not sought, 
 
 Nor hast thou heard the widow's cry, 
 
 When to her ear the truth was brought 
 
 That plung'd her in hopeless misery ; 
 
 Thou hast not heard the sad sad sighs 
 
 That spoke a heart thus crush' d and breaking, 
 
 Nor heard the infant's piteous cries, 
 
 The parent's wretchedness partaking : 
 
 Nor hast thou seen the aged sire, 
 
 "With silver locks his head adorning,
 
 74 
 
 Whose soul possess'd one strong desire, 
 To hail his son from war returning, 
 When that son so worthy of his sire, 
 Had fallen amidst the battle's fire : 
 Thou did'st not see the inward strife 
 That blanched the aged sufferer's face, 
 As he felt unconscious yet of life, 
 And gain'd a few short moments' space, 
 Ere he clasp' d his hands in fervent prayer, 
 Ere he sought his God and found him there. 
 Nor the mother in that sad hour of woe, 
 When her lov'd son amongst the slain, 
 Had rush'd to meet the fatal blow, 
 Thou hast not heard that soul complain; 
 Nor reach'd thy ear that piercing shriek, 
 The bitter cry, ' my child ! my child ! ' 
 Hadst thou beheld that pallid cheek, 
 That quivering lip, that eye so wild, 
 Then hadst thou known, my own brave son, 
 How dearly victory must be won. 
 
 But think not love, the battle's noise 
 Alone the hero's valour tries, 
 He who resists temptation's voice, 
 And treads the path where duty lies ; 
 He that can firmly, bravely check 
 Forbidden thoughts, the wish to sin, 
 Sin which his future peace may wreck,
 
 75 
 
 That soul shall brightest glory win. 
 
 Yes, sin, with all enticing charm, 
 
 Shall tempt thy youth with many a snare, 
 
 But when thy conscience sounds the alarm, 
 
 Arise, and for thy foes prepare. 
 
 Oh ! then the Christian's armour take, 
 
 The spirit's sword with ardour bearing, 
 
 The shield of faith thy refuge make, 
 
 The helmet of salvation wearing ; 
 
 Then should' st thou hear the call to arms, 
 
 Though foes around are thickly spreading, 
 
 No fears shall chill or loud alarms 
 
 Shall check the course thy steps are treading ; 
 
 For he who bids thee not to fear, 
 
 The Captain of Salvation, 's near. 
 
 But should my boy in riper years, 
 Become a soldier of the cross, 
 Not all a mother's hopes and fears, 
 Not all her sufferings, want, or loss, 
 Shall tempt me to repress thy zeal, 
 Or damp the ardour thou might' st feel. 
 
 Should' st thou be calFd to distant lands, 
 Eedemption's glories to unfold, 
 Then go ; from the Almighty's hand, 
 My darling boy Fd not withold : 
 Then would I send my own lov'd son,
 
 76 
 
 A herald from the courts of heaven ; 
 Yes, thou, my best, my only one, 
 Should to that holy cause be given.' 
 
 But the youth could see her colour fade, 
 Could feel the tremor of her hand, 
 As gently on his head 'twas laid ; 
 Her voice unable to command, 
 She rais'd to God her tearful eye, 
 And sought heaven's blessings silently. 
 
 But now approach' d the hour of rest, 
 Her Alfred bade a kind good night, 
 ,But gloomy thoughts his mind oppress'd, 
 He saw his hopes but late so bright, 
 His visions of glory fair and gay, 
 As the morning dew had pass'd away. 
 
 Not light more fair did morn disclose, 
 Nor look'd more fair the sun's bright rays, 
 Than Alfred's smile, when he arose 
 And sought his mother's lov'd embrace. 
 She fondly blest her boy : ' but why, 
 Why wears thy cheek that radiant bloom ? 
 "Why should it be that thus thy eye 
 Should such unwonted fire assume ? ' 
 
 ' My mother, know, I long have thought 
 How priz'd by me the hero's fame,
 
 77 
 
 But thou so tenderly hast taught, 
 
 A mother's love is a stronger claim, 
 
 That every wish I've now subdu'd, 
 
 That would tempt from duty and from thee ; 
 
 Regret's deep sigh shall not intrude, 
 
 For I have gained the victory.' 
 
 He stayed; and rolling years reveal' d 
 How firmly duty triumph' d there, 
 His arm was ever near to shield 
 His charge from every anxious fear. 
 How could he fame or honors court ? 
 Earth's dazzling glories all were dim ; 
 His widow' d mother's sole support, 
 Oh ! what were worldly fame to him ? 
 He felt her lean upon his arm, 
 He watch' d her sweet and placid smile, 
 And would with fond affection's charm, 
 The hours of anxious care beguile. 
 
 But youth, however virtuous found, 
 Is not exempt from many a care, 
 Temptations everywhere surround, 
 And oft unseen is the fatal snare, 
 Till he wakes, his future path to see 
 O'erspread by remorse and misery. 
 
 Was Alfred tempted to depart, 
 To shun the path where duty lay ?
 
 78 
 
 His was a kind and social heart, 
 
 And strongly bound by friendship's sway : 
 
 One youth he lov'd above the rest, 
 
 Companion of his earliest years, 
 
 In whose long tried and faithful breast, 
 
 Repos'd his wishes, cares, and fears : 
 
 That friend was bound for a foreign shore, 
 
 And dreaded much the long adieu, 
 
 How ardently did he now implore 
 
 That his friend might journey with him too. 
 
 He offered pleasure, riches, ease, 
 
 The world's allurements round him lay; 
 
 Could he refuse ? did he not seize 
 
 The offer of a life so gay ? 
 
 Alfred replied, ' I would not speak 
 A word to wound thy friendly ear, 
 Attend me to the spot I seek, 
 And thou wilt read my answer there.' 
 
 His much lov'd mother sat serene, 
 As one whose thoughts had rest in heaven, 
 No trace of worldly care was seen, 
 To heavenly love her soul was given ; 
 As a bright light that Christian shone, 
 Fair emblem of that perfect rest, 
 Possess' d by those blest souls alone, 
 Whose cares repose on Jesu's breast.
 
 79 
 
 Still unperceiv'd the friends retired : 
 
 As she mus'd upon the sacred word, 
 
 Her thoughts, with heavenly love inspir'd, 
 
 Had reach'd their ears ; her voice they heard, 
 
 Implore in accents soft and mild, 
 
 Heaven's blessings on her duteous child. 
 
 ' Alfred/ his young companion cried, 
 ' I've now thy answer ; never more 
 I'll tempt thee from thy mother's side, 
 To seek with me a foreign shore : 
 May I, by thy example taught, 
 Practice those virtues thou hast sought ; 
 And when I tread a distant clime, 
 I'll think of thy widowed mother's love, 
 Of her prayers for thee, her looks sublime, 
 As she humbly sought from God above, 
 Heaven's blessings on her duteous boy, 
 Her hope, her all of earthly joy ; 
 No longer I ask thee to come with me, 
 For thou hast gain'd the victory.'
 
 LINES ON THE CROSS. 
 
 Stay traveller, oh ! stay, 
 As you pass on your road ; 
 What form is that bending 
 Beneath his dread load ? 
 Look sinner ! behold him, 
 That eye rais'd above ! 
 It seems to speak volumes, 
 Of mercy and love. 
 
 It pleads with the father, 
 Lost souls to forgive ; 
 It says, ' I am dying, 
 That sinners might live : ' 
 What form but the Saviour's 
 That load could sustain, 
 Bear the fierce wrath of heaven, 
 Man's peace to obtain ?
 
 ei 
 
 i 
 
 And canst thou unmov'd, 
 See liim sinking alone ; 
 Sinking thus under sorrows. 
 For sin not his own ? 
 Thou can'st weep o'er a talc 
 Of imagin'd distress, 
 When eloquence decks it 
 In fanciful dress. 
 
 And shall not that eye, 
 With eloquence fraught, 
 In prayer raised to heaven, 
 Excite one sad thought ? 
 Oh ! look once again, 
 On the cross now erected, 
 See heaven's gracious King 
 By his people rejected ! 
 
 And can'st thou behold him 
 
 Sustaining the weight 
 
 Of the cross, that heaven's glory 
 
 Thy soul may await? 
 
 And yet can thy heart 
 
 By repentance unbroken, 
 
 Reject all the truths 
 
 The Redeemer has spoken ? 
 
 Behold on his head 
 A crown of thorns resting ! 
 u
 
 82 
 
 And see'st thou the glory 
 Those temples investing ? 
 Behold those pierc'd hands 
 Which to heaven are spread, 
 That pardon may rest 
 On His murderer's head ? 
 
 Behold his torn feet ! 
 See the blood from his side ! 
 Can'st thou view yet unmov'd 
 Thy God crucified ? 
 Oh ! why shines the sun 
 On a world so deprav'd ? 
 Why gilds he a spot 
 By Satan enslaved ? 
 
 Why bloom yon sweet flow'rets 
 In loveliness glowing ? 
 Why thus their rich fragrance 
 On sinners bestowing? 
 Oh ! why does yon rivulet 
 Gently pursuing 
 Its course, sweetly solace 
 Man man bent on ruin ? 
 
 The sun sheds his radiance 
 With many a bright beam, 
 And murmuring still 
 Is the soft-flowing stream ;
 
 83 
 
 Because the Creator 
 In mercy delighting, 
 By blessings like these 
 Man's praise is exciting. 
 
 Even now do the flow'rets 
 Iheir lively tints borrow 
 From nature to gladden 
 These dark scenes of sorrow ; 
 Day's bright orb still shines, 
 But a brighter sun yet 
 The fair sun of righteousness 
 Never will set. 
 
 That sun sheds his rays 
 'Midst a world so deprav'd, 
 O'er many a heart 
 Once by Satan enslav'd ; 
 'Midst darkness and sorrow, 
 'Midst clouds of distress, 
 That sun in his glory 
 Has risen to bless. 
 
 And still o'er the cross 
 
 Will his bright beams appear, 
 
 While a penitent soul 
 
 For mercy flies there 
 
 Then weep not poor mourner, 
 
 Though sorrow's full tide
 
 84 
 
 Should seem to o'erwlielm thee, 
 Thy Saviour has died. 
 
 Thou can'st rest on the word 
 Which to thee he has given, 
 Thou can'st cling to the cross 
 As thy passport to heaven ; 
 For thee has Christ suffer'd, 
 The meek and the lowly, 
 That thou may'st enjoy 
 Endless bliss endless glory !
 
 THE ORPHAN BOY. 
 
 The day was wearing fast away, no moon nor stars 
 
 arose, 
 
 To guide the little orphan to a place of calm repose, 
 Yet still with slow and faltering step, he trod his 
 
 weary way, 
 And thought upon his lonely path with terror and 
 
 dismay. 
 The orphan William once had friends, and, innocent 
 
 and fair, 
 He flour ish'd, like a lovely flower, beneath a parent's 
 
 care, 
 But sorrow, like a wint'ry wind, came sweeping o'er the 
 
 plain, 
 It crush'd the parent plant to earth, but let the bud 
 
 remain. 
 The mother murmur' d not, although she felt she soon 
 
 must die, 
 
 v
 
 86 
 
 For faith was strong, and bright her views of immortality, 
 And she had hopes, thojugh sorrow's hand had mark'd 
 
 the path she trod, 
 The father of the fatherless would be her "William's 
 
 God, 
 Then with her latest dying breath her orphan boy she 
 
 bless' d, 
 Resign'd him to her Saviour's care, and enter'd into 
 
 rest. 
 Then came the pious minister, who oft with words of 
 
 love 
 Had led the little William's thoughts to happier worlds 
 
 above ; 
 He spoke to him of brighter lands where happy spirits 
 
 dwell, ?/ .^ 
 
 Where friends shall meet again in heaven, nor ever 
 
 bid farewell ; 
 He lov'd the little orphan boy, he press'd him to his 
 
 heart, 
 And felt from friends so dearly lov'd how bitter 'twas 
 
 to part; 
 
 He strove to cheer the aching heart with words of ten 
 derness, 
 And told him that the God of heaven was ever near 
 
 to bless ; 
 And while he spoke the list'ning boy would wipe away 
 
 a tear, 
 And sometimes would a ray of hope his sobbing bosom 
 
 cheer :
 
 87 
 
 ' Thy uncle now will do for thee what parents would 
 
 have done, 
 And tliou must love him too, my child, and be to him 
 
 a son.' 
 He took him to his uncle's home, that home to him so 
 
 drear, 
 No smile was seen to welcome him, no look of love was 
 
 there ; 
 
 And oft he saw the tender kiss on other lips impress'd, 
 And wept to think that he alone should never thus be 
 
 bless'd ; 
 He thought of all a father's care, a tender mother's 
 
 love, 
 And wept that he should be below, and they in heaven 
 
 above ; 
 And when at night he sadly sought his wonted place 
 
 of rest, 
 He almost thought he heard the words so oft to him 
 
 address' d, 
 
 When kneeling at his mother's side he lisp'd his eve 
 ning prayer, 
 "When she would bid him sink to rest beneath a Saviour's 
 
 care; 
 He fancied he could feel her hand plac'd gently on his 
 
 head, 
 When she would stroke his curling hair and leave him 
 
 in his bed. 
 
 ' Now rest, my dear one, rest in peace, on Jesu's care rely, 
 May he protect my darling boy and fit him for the sky:'
 
 88 
 
 And when the mom's bright rays appeared, they brought 
 no joy to him, 
 
 He has no mother now to hear him say his morning 
 hymn ; 
 
 And while the other children pla/d in all their youth 
 ful glee, 
 
 He stole away to mourn unseen his hapless destiny ; 
 
 And then 'twas notic'd that the boy would ever keep 
 aloof, 
 
 And what was deemed his sullenness would meet the 
 harsh reproof, 
 
 Till, wearied with such cruelty, he left his only home, 
 
 To lead a mean and vagrant life, in sin and vice to roam, 
 
 Indeed he cared not what the fate of other days may be, 
 
 He knew and felt his present state was one of misery ; 
 
 That day the summer's sun shone bright the lambkins 
 pla/d around, 
 
 And flow'rets, spread beneath his feet, of richest hues 
 were found ; 
 
 The birds sang gaily in the groves their' s seem'd the 
 notes of joy, 
 
 Yet vain those notes to glad the heart of that poor or 
 phan boy ; 
 
 But as the day began to close, exhausted and forlorn 
 
 He lay upon his grassy couch, and wish'd that it were 
 morn. 
 
 At length a man in gipsy's garb approached the weep 
 ing child,
 
 89 
 
 And though his looks were coarse and rough, yet were 
 his accents mild : 
 
 He was a father, and he felt the little orphan's woes ; 
 
 He led him to the gipsy's tent, and sooth'd him to re 
 pose. 
 
 'Twas there he learnt the paths of vice, the gayest of 
 the set, 
 
 The lessons of his earliest years, how soon did he forget. 
 
 His minister with fond concern had watch' d with pious 
 care 
 
 The growth of seeds in that young heart, he had im 
 planted there ; 
 
 But had he look'd for blossoms there, where once they 
 promis'd fair, 
 
 His hopes had yielded to the sight of sad and deep 
 despair. 
 
 But years pass'd on, and William now a tall and hand 
 some youth, 
 
 Rejected still the pleasant ways of virtue and of truth ; 
 
 He danc'd and sang in merry strains, uncheck'd his 
 wild career, 
 
 Nor would, if conscience spoke at all, afford a willing ear. 
 
 "Twas on a smiling summer's eve he wander'd o'er the 
 green, 
 
 When passing near a cottage door a lovely girl was 
 seen; 
 
 The youth beheld her pleasing look, and drawing 
 quickly near
 
 90 
 
 1 Shall I reveal to thee, fair girl, what may to me ap 
 pear ? 
 
 ' Believe me I am skill'd in arts but to the few reveal'd 
 ' Who study deeply to acquire what is from most con- 
 
 ceaTd ; 
 ' Give me thy hand that I may read to thee thy future 
 
 state 
 ' Yes, I can clearly trace those lines prophetic of thy 
 
 fate/ 
 
 He told of future happiness of many a joyous day, 
 Which she should spend in rank and wealth, in places 
 
 far away ; 
 Said there was one in foreign lands who soon would 
 
 seek her smile, 
 And bear her as a blooming bride to his far distant 
 
 isle. 
 Well pleased, she listened to his words, but how could 
 
 she repay 
 
 The youth who thus had shewn the joys which yet be 
 fore her lay ? 
 She cast her eyes around the room a bible met her 
 
 view 
 ' Take this,' she cried ' and go thy way, and may thy 
 
 words prove true/ 
 
 He smil'd at the deception he had practic'd to obtain 
 The book he meant to part with for a little worldly 
 
 gain; 
 He knew not that to him the pearl of greatest price 
 
 was given,
 
 91 
 
 Nor did he think he then possess' d the richest gift of 
 
 heaven. 
 
 But as he gaily wander'd on again it met his eye ; 
 Then visions of departed days rush'd on his mem'ry : 
 He thought of his beloved home the morn and evening 
 
 hymn 
 The daily intercourse with heaven the mother's pray'r 
 
 for him ! 
 And then did fond affection's tear, so long by vice 
 
 restrain' d, 
 Betray that in that wand'ring heart some buds of hope 
 
 remained. 
 ' My mother, shall I yet despise the book which now I 
 
 hold? 
 
 'More dear to me that sacred word than mines of rich 
 est gold ! 
 ' How sweet the prayers, and may I hope they reac h'd 
 
 the throne on high, 
 ' That ' God would bless thy darling boy, and fit him 
 
 for the sky/ ' 
 
 ' But does not he who reigns above in spotless glory, shine 
 'Too pure to look upon a soul so dark and base as 
 
 mine? 
 ' And yet Fve heard that Jesus left his radiant throne 
 
 on high, 
 ' To seek the lost, and ransom them, and fit them for 
 
 the sky ; 
 ' But I will read this sacred book, I'll bend my knees 
 
 in pray'r,
 
 92 : 
 
 ' Perhaps my God will deign to make a soul like mine 
 
 his care ; 
 ' And I will bless the love which bore my mother's 
 
 prayer on high, 
 'That 'God would bless her darling boy, and fit him 
 
 for the sky.' ' 
 
 With open book he slowly trod his solitary road, 
 But with what alter' d feelings did he view his late 
 
 abode ? 
 The sounds of noisy revelry assail'd his listening 
 
 ear, 
 Which now attun'd to mercy's voice, could find no 
 
 pleasure there : 
 He enter' d, but the coarsest jokes the wanton song 
 
 offends; . ' 
 
 With tears he look'd on those he once had thought his 
 
 dearest friends. 
 
 At length he begg'd them to desist to hear his sim 
 ple tale, 
 But when he sought to gain their ears, their noise 
 
 would yet prevail ; 
 Till shock' d with impious language, which he once un- 
 
 mov'd could hear, 
 He left the tent to pray that God in mercy would 
 
 appear. 
 And Wilh'am learnt at length to trust his sinful soul to 
 
 one 
 Who came from heaven to seek and save the wretched 
 
 and undone ;
 
 93 
 
 And much he wish'd to leave a set so harden' d in their 
 
 sin, 
 
 Yet lingered still, in hopes that he might their atten 
 tion win : 
 But fruitless prov'd poor William's task, he turn'd and 
 
 left the wood, 
 Pray'd for the inmates of the tent, and then his way 
 
 pursued. 
 And now the youth, from vice reclaim' d, approach'd the 
 
 lovely spot 
 W here he had seen the lovely girl, and hastened to the 
 
 cot; 
 'Fair girl/ he cried, Tm now return' d, thy bible to 
 
 restore, 
 ' By fraud and falsehood 'twas obtain'd, and now 'tis 
 
 mine no more ; 
 
 ' And should another bring a tale, false as the one I told, 
 ' Then may thy ear be deaf to him, no converse with 
 
 him hold : 
 ' Oh ! learn from me one lesson yet, 'ere it may prove 
 
 too late, 
 ' That God and God alone, can know what yet may be 
 
 thy'fate/ 
 He plac'd the bible in her hand, and oft with tearful 
 
 look 
 
 He turn'd to take a ling'ring view of his beloved book ! 
 He griev'd to think that sacred word no longer was his 
 
 own
 
 94 
 
 * But have I not a friend in heaven, to whom my wants 
 
 are known ? ' 
 And now he sought the minister, that pious aged 
 
 man, 
 Who in the path of holiness his heaven-ward journey 
 
 ran; 
 
 And to that faithful bosom, did the orphan boy confide 
 His sins, his fears, and then his hopes in Jesus 
 
 crucified ! 
 The holy minister, with tears, bless'd and embraced the 
 
 youth, 
 And joy'd to think the words he heard wore such an 
 
 air of truth : 
 His was a heart that could rejoice at pleasure's lively 
 
 glow, 
 And he could weep with those who wept, and soothe the 
 
 mourner's woe ! 
 'Oh ! say/ the orphan boy exclaim'd, 'my crimes can'st 
 
 thou forget ? 
 ' And I will be to thee a son, and thou shalt bless me 
 
 jet; 
 
 ' And let me be the solace of thy now declining years, 
 'To soothe thy anxious cares to rest, and dry thy^stream- 
 
 ing tears.' 
 
 The good old minister, o'ercome with gratitude and joy, 
 Ascribed the praise to heaven, and bless'd the long-lost 
 
 orphan boy !
 
 SIN LEADS TO SORROW. 
 
 How truly 'tis seen 
 That sin leads to sorrow, 
 The transient delight 
 Which from pleasure we borrow, 
 Even while with fond hope 
 We are madly pursuing, 
 The phantom deceives us, 
 And leads on to ruin. 
 
 This world how inviting 
 How fair to the sight 
 It seems how enchanting ! 
 Its beauties delight. 
 We watch the gay sun 
 In splendour declining; 
 And night's gentle queen 
 In her mild lustre shining.
 
 96 
 
 We rove through the meads, 
 Their rich verdure we view, 
 See the arch spread above 
 Of ethereal blue ; 
 We listen to hear 
 Full many a glad lay, 
 Caroll' d forth by the songsters, 
 On bush or on spray. 
 
 And we muse with deep feeling 
 
 On sin's cruel reign, 
 
 And the sorrows that follow 
 
 So thick in its train ; 
 
 And we grieve that frail man 
 
 In Eden's bright home, 
 
 Should have sunk 'neath its power, 
 
 By Satan overcome. 
 
 Yet who that has read 
 His own heart, shall declare 
 That sin, his worst foe, 
 Has not enter' d there ? 
 Oh ! what has sin done ! 
 With its treacherous snare, 
 Even Eden escap'd not 
 Its poison was there. 
 
 Like the flow'rets expos' d 
 To the sun's scorching ray,
 
 That fades ere 'tis noonday. 
 
 Then withers away; 
 
 So droops yon fair infant 
 
 Its life just begun, 
 
 It sickens, it dies, 
 
 This, this has sin done. 
 
 Behold that long train 
 In its sable array, 
 Alas ! 'tis a father 
 They're bearing away ! 
 His widow, his friends, 
 And his now bereav'd son, 
 Are bitterly weeping, 
 And this has sin done ! 
 
 In ages long past 
 Did the God of creation, 
 Prom a world sunk in sin, 
 Take a people a nation ! 
 And mighty and great 
 Did that people arise, 
 As the sands of the sea, 
 As the stars in the skies. 
 
 And led by the hand 
 
 Of the great God of heaven, 
 
 They enter' d that land 
 
 Y
 
 Which by promise was given. 
 'Twas a land set apart 
 From the nations around ; 
 With the favour of God 
 'Twas abundantly crown'd. 
 
 'Twas a nation belov'd, 
 The fair type of heaven, 
 Which to penitent mourners 
 By promise is given ; 
 Their hills and green valleys, 
 Their herds and their flocks, 
 Their temples, their treasure, 
 Description but mocks ! 
 
 That people beloved, 
 That once happy race, 
 The glory of nations, 
 Where now is their place ? 
 Oh, what hath sin done ! 
 To these scatter 'd ones turn, 
 And in their lost tribes 
 Heaven's judgment discern. 
 
 Behold them, and trace, 
 'Midst derision and scorn, 
 The remains of their nation 
 Divided, forlorn ! 
 Sure never did judgment
 
 99 
 
 So fiercely descend : 
 Still, still does contempt 
 Their descendants attend. 
 
 Oh, land of iniquity ! 
 Who shall enquire 
 Why then should thy glory 
 Be doom'd to expire ? 
 Why yet should thy harps 
 On the willows be hung 
 Why thus they remain 
 Through ages unstrung ? 
 
 Who now shall enquire, 
 Why Zion's soft strains 
 No more shall be heard 
 Through the valleys and plains ? 
 Why Judah's fair daughters 
 No more shall be known, 
 With the timbrel and harp, 
 In that land once their own ? 
 
 On Calvary's mount, 
 In Gethsemane's gloom, 
 In the dread judgment hall, 
 Or in Joseph's new tomb ; 
 In the agonized look 
 Which the sufferings betray'd 
 Of their crucified King, 
 Is the reason displayed.
 
 100 
 
 Yet where is the heart 
 That mercy has known, 
 That sighs not for those 
 Who the Saviour disown ? 
 That longs not to bear 
 To Judah's sad race 
 The gospel's glad tidings 
 Of pardoning grace ? 
 
 Oh ! jes, there are souls 
 Who delight to reveal 
 Those blessings still flowing, 
 The wounded to heal ; 
 The plan of redemption 
 With joy to unfold, 
 That the outcasts of nations 
 Heaven's grace may behold. 
 
 E'en now may they say 
 To the nations untaught, 
 To the scatter'd of Israel 
 ' What hath God wrought ? ' 
 Salvation! Eedemption! 
 To sinners undone 
 The work is completed, 
 The victory is won ! 
 
 Go on then, nor weary, 
 Still think with delight
 
 101 
 
 Of the joy in reserve 
 Which shall break on your sight, 
 When that day shall arise, 
 That great day of account, 
 When your God and their's 
 Shall your labours recount. 
 
 When he owns his reclaim' d ones, 
 By Jesus forgiven 
 Sees you as the means 
 Which has led them to heaven : 
 When you hear the glad sound 
 That proclaims your reward 
 ' Now enter, ye faithful, 
 The joy of your Lord/
 
 WILHELMINE. 
 
 Hail ! heavenly love, divinely blest ! 
 Hail ! glorious source of endless rest ! 
 Heaven's brightest attribute, whose rays 
 Gild with their all-resplendent blaze 
 Th 5 ethereal plains, where angels sing 
 The honours of the eternal King, 
 In strains all holy, all divine, 
 In strains no mortal tongue can join; 
 Yet who shall say that mortal tongue 
 Knows not to join that holy song ? 
 Eedeeming grace ! redeeming love ! - 
 Proclaim'd throughout the realms above, 
 Descends from heaven, on angel's wing, 
 That man redeeming love might sing ! 
 Redeeming love ! the theme how great, 
 Its depths what thought can penetrate 
 Eedeeming love ! its heights to explore, 
 The brightest angel may not soar :
 
 103 
 
 And yet the great Redeemer see, 
 Clad in such sweet simplicity, 
 That e'en a child may lisp his praise, 
 And triumph in redeeming grace. 
 
 So thought the little Wilhelmine ; 
 To her young mind her God was seen, 
 As a kind father bending low, 
 To hear her prayerful accents flow; 
 In faith she sought his willing ear, 
 And told him all her tale of care. 
 
 Thrice happy youth, in whom we trace 
 The blessings of redeeming grace ! 
 In vain shall angry tempests rage, 
 And storms assail their tender age : 
 Their hopes yield not to smile or frown, 
 No flames can quell, nor floods can drown ; 
 Hope looks to heaven with eye serene, 
 Such was the faith of Wilhelmine. 
 
 When Hamburgh's ancient city lay 
 To all-consuming flames a prey, 
 How dread to hear the piercing cries ! 
 Street after street in ruin lies, 
 While many a houseless mourner view'd 
 The flames rage on yet unsubdued : 
 How sad to see the look of care, 
 The look of hopeless, mute despair,
 
 104 
 
 When sinking from fatigue, dismay' d, 
 The firemen ceas'd their useless aid. 
 
 But one lov'd spot amidst the scene 
 Claim'd the regard of Wilhelmine ; 
 Well may she love the sacred place 
 Where first she heard of Jesu's grace ; 
 Where to her tender mind was given, 
 To love and serve the God of heaven. 
 
 The school, that so much interest claims, 
 Stood yet unhurt amidst the flames ; 
 The mother saw her darling gaze 
 With eager eye upon the place. 
 
 ' Thy school, my Wilhelmine, must yield, 
 
 ' From flames like these what power can shield ? 
 
 ' Those raging flames all aid defy, 
 
 ' Soon must that house in ruin lie/ 
 
 ' No mother, no ! for twice Fve pra/d 
 ' That God, our God, will lend his aid ! 
 ' Again I'll pray, nor will I fear 
 ' That God will now refuse my prayer.' 
 
 Hail ! blessed faith, divinely given 
 To cheer us in our path to heaven ! 
 Well may we prize thy heavenly rays, 
 Which shine through sorrow's gloomiest days \
 
 105 
 
 Could human eye the scene behold, 
 And view the faithful train of old, 
 See Abraham's darling son resigned, 
 See Daniel to his den consigned, 
 Elijah check the falling rain, 
 And showers again by faith obtain ; 
 See Simeon clasping to his breast, 
 His infant Lord supremely blest : 
 See Stephen with his angel face, 
 Bright trophy of redeeming grace, 
 Amaz'd should we the scene review, 
 And cry, " behold what faith can do." 
 
 Yet we may bless the God of heaven, 
 
 That such like precious faith is given, 
 
 Even in our days to lead us on, 
 
 To that bright world whence they are gone, 
 
 The prayer of faith will yet prevail, 
 
 Though sword or floods, or flames assail, 
 
 Though dark the clouds, though dread the scene 
 
 Thus thought the little Wilhelmine. 
 
 She knew that God alone could stay 
 The flames which spread so fearfully, 
 And he who stills the angry wave, 
 Was there to hear, was there to save ; 
 A mighty wind at his command 
 Blew towards the Alster from the land, 
 A A
 
 106 
 
 The winds and flames their ruler know, 
 So far, no further dare they go ; 
 In that school garden, so endear'd 
 To Wilhelmine, at length appear' d 
 The last hot stone ; the fire was sta/d 
 By him whom winds and flames obe/d, 
 Who heard 'midst that appalling scene, 
 The prayer of faith, of Wilhehnine.
 
 THE BEREAVED MOTHER. 
 
 The maiden owned a heart serene, 
 And pleasure glanc'd from her sparkling eye, 
 The bloom of youth on her cheek was seen, 
 In her step was joyous gaiety ; 
 The spring of life to her young eye, 
 Seem'd but the dawn of a brighter day, 
 For hope and joy their enchantments try 
 To allure the youthful steps astray. 
 
 A message came and it reach'd her heart, 
 
 It came from the God of grace and truth, 
 
 It bade her from every sin depart, 
 
 And remember her God in the days of youth ; 
 
 " Give me thy heart," her heart was given, 
 
 Obedient to the heavenly call, 
 
 She sought and found the God of heaven, 
 
 Her strength, her righteousness, her all,
 
 108 
 
 She lor'd her God, and she lov'd as one, 
 Who saw through Christ, her sins forgiven, 
 And hop'd her pilgrimage begun 
 On earth, would end in the joys of heaven ; 
 How dear to her was the sacred place, 
 Where many a heart with fervour glow'd, 
 Where tidings of redeeming grace, 1 
 In streams of living water flowed. 
 
 But years roll'd on, behold her now, 
 The spring of life seems scarcely o'er, 
 No cloud of grief rests on her brow, 
 And bright her eye as heretofore ; 
 Yet somewhat chang*d is life's gay scene, 
 Her joys are found in her own abode, 
 On her hand love's golden tie is seen, 
 By her heart's best, dearest choice bestow'd. 
 
 Her babes, so oft to her bosom press'd, 
 
 Like olive branches around her spread, 
 
 And she hopes they will rise to call her blest, 
 
 And crown with joy her hoary head ; 
 
 But where is the heart so freely given, 
 
 In life's young day to the God of grace, 
 
 When she look'd with faith and hope to heaven, 
 
 As her future home, her resting place ? 
 
 Now when the house of God she seeks, 
 
 Where is her heart ? far far away, 
 
 The wandering eye the truth bespeaks,
 
 109 
 
 She is weary of God's most holy day ; 
 How chang'd to her that sacred place 
 Where once her heart with fervour glow'd, 
 Where tidings of redeeming grace, 
 In streams of living water flow'd : 
 Oh ! could'we read her inmost mind, 
 Each deep recess^we there should see, 
 Her partner and her babes enshrined, 
 Objects of her idolatry. 
 
 In vain are now the threatenings given 
 To check the wanderer's sad career; 
 And vain alike the voice from heaven 
 In gentlest accents meets her ear : 
 A few more years behold her now ! 
 Again how chang'd the scene appears ! 
 A look of sorrow sits on her brow, 
 Her eye is dimm'd with bitterest tears. 
 
 Behold the wreck of her happiness ! 
 Behold the mother's streaming eye ! 
 Her widow's 'cap, and her sable dress, 
 Bespeak the extreme of misery : 
 Where now is that dearest, fondest tie, 
 That fix'd to earth her every thought ? 
 Where now are her blooming family, 
 Where may those infant forms be sought ? 
 They're not in the weeping mother's room, 
 
 B B
 
 110 
 
 Nor are they clasp'd to the father's breast ; 
 They are all, save one, in the silent tomb, 
 Laid in their lone and quiet rest ! 
 
 One lovely boy to her yet was left, 
 One earthly idol yet remain' d ; 
 And did she not, if so much bereft, 
 Seek by her God to be sustain'd ? 
 
 One day, in agonizing thought, 
 She sat the image of despair ; 
 Nor had she a ray of comfort sought 
 From Him who waits to answer prayer. 
 
 A friend with anxious tenderness, 
 With many a precious promise sought 
 To lead her thoughts to the God of grace, 
 And trust that love which changes not. 
 ' Behold ! ' he cried, ' His mercy still 
 ' Has left one lov'd, one darling boy 
 ' Thy future wishes to fulfil, 
 ' Thy present hope, thy present joy ! ' 
 
 That child behind his mother's chair 
 Had climb'd, in playfulness, to seek 
 A fond embrace ; nor knew 'twas care 
 Had blanch'd his mother's pallid cheek. 
 
 ' Yes, one,' she cried, ' He's left, 'tis true, 
 ' Of the many I have lov'd He's all the rest ;
 
 Ill 
 
 ' He may as well have taken liim too/ 
 
 She spoke by the bitterest greef oppress'd ! 
 She arose, the chair gave way, the boy 
 Fell from the height he'd proudly gained, 
 And the mother beheld her last sole joy 
 A lifeless corpse, by her friend sustain'd ! 
 
 She gaz'd on that form, in death so fair, 
 She saw her child in his last long sleep, 
 But no soothing tear alas ! was there, 
 'Twould have been a luxury to weep. 
 
 ' My child, my boy, Oh ! could I give 
 
 'Worlds to recall thee back again 
 
 f From this deep sleep, to see thee live 
 
 ' But one short hour the wish how vain ! 
 
 ' Could' st thou but clasp my neck once more, 
 
 ' Once more receive my fond embrace ! 
 
 ' Oh ! could returning life restore 
 
 ' One smile upon thy dimpled face ; 
 
 ' Then would thy mother cease to grieve : 
 
 ' But no ! that blessing is not for me : 
 
 ' Yet may I not this hope receive 
 
 ' That pardoning grace may reach e'en me ? 
 
 ' I'll look to heaven, till peace and joy 
 
 ' At length shall soothe this troubled breast ; 
 
 ' Till praise shall all my powers employ, 
 
 c And my heart acknowledge thy ways are best/
 
 112 
 
 Nor in vain did that last o'erwhelmiug stroke 
 Descend on her heart, with its weight of grief ; 
 For he that wounded, in mercy spoke, 
 And brought at length the kind relief. 
 And then the mother, submissive, mild, 
 Heaven's pardoning grace with fervour sought ; 
 ' My father, I now resign my child, 
 'My heart by these proofs of mercy taught, 
 ' How keen soever the stroke may fall, 
 ' Shall no longer rebel at thy wise design, 
 ' Since thou wilt my early vows recall, 
 'Thou shalt have my heart behold, 'tis thine.' 
 
 And though no offspring around her arose 
 
 To crown with joy her hoary head, 
 
 Yet sweet to her was the calm repose, 
 
 That o'er her widoVd path was shed : 
 
 She meekly waited life's closing scene, 
 
 The entrance to a world of light ; 
 
 Tor her heart had long with the Saviour been, 
 
 Ere that bright world broke on her sight : 
 
 Yes, long by the'arm of God sustain' d, 
 
 By faith her heavenward path she trod; 
 
 That once rebellious heart remain'd 
 
 Through life devoted to her God : 
 
 He claim'd her heart, and her heart was given 
 
 Without reserve, to the God of heaven.
 
 ON EARTHLY JOYS. 
 
 Is there no spot on earthly ground 
 Where perfect joy and peace abound ? 
 Where the gentle dove may love to stay, 
 No storms disturb the cloudless day ? 
 When the fields shall wear unfading green, 
 Nor falling leaves around be seen ? 
 Where no sigh shall be heard, nor fall a tear ; 
 No pretended friend gain entrance there ? 
 
 A resting place shall not be found, 
 Where joy is lasting, on earthly ground ; 
 For the dove her silver wings shall plume, 
 And fly from scenes of care and gloom : 
 Nor is there a spot of unfading green, 
 Where fallen leaves shall no more be seen ; 
 Where no sigh shall be heard, nor fall a tear, 
 Nor pretended friend gain entrance there. 
 c c
 
 114 
 
 But happiest they whose thoughts can rise, 
 
 And trace bright scenes beyond the skies, 
 
 And know themselves but travellers here. 
 
 Through a world of changing grief and care ; 
 
 Who can look unmoved on the busy throng 
 
 Of crowded cities, where of the tongue 
 
 Of the false deceiver, for some base end, 
 
 Lures on his too confiding friend, 
 
 Till having betray 'd, his fall can see, 
 
 And leave him to ruin and misery ! 
 
 There is a land, but 'tis not here 
 
 Tar, far above, lies that brighter sphere, 
 
 Where no earthly foot shall dare to tread, 
 
 "Where beams of glory around are spread : 
 
 Nor has it been given to mortal hand 
 
 To unclose the entrance to that blest land ; 
 
 And still unseen to mortal eye, 
 
 Are those scenes of glory beyond the sky, 
 
 But the eye of faith that land descries, 
 
 As the home where the Christian's treasure lies, 
 
 Nor is there a spot on earth so drear, 
 
 That the eye of faith can fail to cheer ; 
 
 That eye can pierce through the deepest sorrow, 
 
 And hail the dawn of a bright to morrow. 
 
 The mother who mourns her infant son, 
 
 Her last born lovely cherish'd one, 
 
 From the darksome tomb may raise her eyes,
 
 115 
 
 And view her fair one in the skies ; 
 
 And the sight shall check the streaming tear, 
 
 For her cherub boy is in glory there. 
 
 Even those who have watch'd the last calm sleep, 
 
 Of their widowed mother, so still, so deep, 
 
 Have felt though death at present sever, 
 
 Have felt that parting was not for ever ; 
 
 They knew her heaven-born soul could rest 
 
 In its home, the mansions of the blest. 
 
 Did that happy spirit its flight delay, 
 
 And pause ere yet it soared away, 
 
 To soothe those hearts with sorrow breaking, 
 
 To shew them their mother in glory waking, 
 
 To lead their thoughts to that brighter sphere, 
 
 And behold their angel mother there ? 
 
 Then say not on earth may not be found, 
 
 A spot where perfect joys abound, 
 
 For he who well his course has run, 
 
 Assured the victory will be won, 
 
 Ere yet the silver cord be broken, 
 
 Ere yet the wish'd for word be spoken, 
 
 That bids the longing soul arise, 
 
 And claim a mansion in the skies, 
 
 That soul shall receive the joys which flow 
 
 From a life of glory begun below. 
 
 OEO. M. SMITH, PRINTER, IRONBR1DGE, BR08ELEY, AND WENLOCK;
 

 
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