Page images
PDF
EPUB

I will search out the matter.

But while I look'd, the clouds immediately
Did break and scatter.

Then went I to a garden, and did spy
A gallant flower,

The crown imperial: sure said I,
Peace at the root must dwell.

But when I digged, I saw a worm devour
What show'd so well.

At length I met a rev'rend good old man:
Whom when for peace

I did demand, he thus began;
There was a prince of old

At Salem dwelt, who liv'd with good increase
Of flock and fold.

He sweetly lived; yet sweetness did not save
His life from foes,

But after death out of his grave,

There sprang twelve stalks of wheat:

Which many wond'ring at, got some of those
To plant and set.

It prosper'd strangely and did soon disperse,
Through all the earth:

For they that taste it do rehearse,
That virtues lie therein;

A secret virtue, bringing peace and mirth
By flight of sin.

Take of this grain, which in my garden grows,

And grows for

you:

Make bread of it; and that repose

[blocks in formation]

GREAT God, whom heav'n, and earth, and sea,

With all their countless hosts obey:
Upheld by whom the nations stand,
And empires fall at thy command.

Beneath thy long suspended ire,
Let papal antichrist expire;

Thy knowledge spread from sea to sea,
"Till ev'ry nation bows to thee.

Then show thyself the Prince of Peace,
Make ev'ry hostile effort cease;
All with thy sacred love inspire,
And burn their chariots in the fire.

In sunder break each warlike spear,
Let all the Saviour's livery wear;
The universal Sabbath prove,
The utmost rest of Christian love.

The world shall then no discord know,
But hand in hand to Canaan go;
Jesus the peaceful King adore,
And learn the art of war no more.

Toplady.

ON THE NEW YEAR.

HAs the late year effac'd one single crime?
Or rather has it not the score increased,
And laid up store of grief for future years?
For future years! O fond presumptive thought!
When not a day, when not a moment's ours;
On this point only, this important NOW,
Strange, awful truth, eternity depends;
And yet this precious moment, man's sole treasure,
This only stroke for everlasting bliss,

Is giv'n to painted joys, to dust, to winds;
And Wisdom sueing for her rightful claim,
Has the poor pittance of a courtier's pay,
An airy promise, and a faint resolve,

Both broke as soon as made; while folly shouts,
And claps her wings at this her fairest triumph.
And shall this year, like that already fled,

Be fool'd away in song and vanity?
No: let me now, indeed, begin to live;
Let me press forward in the glorious race
That leads to life, that leads to joys eternal.

Tho' earth and hell combine t'obstruct my passage,
My God will arm me with his conqu'ring pow'r,
And crown the conflict with an endless triumph.
Turn then, my soul, from earth and all its wiles;
Keep thine eye fix'd on thy celestial home:
Contemplate the delights the blest enjoy,
Delights full beaming from the throne of God,
Without cessation, and without alloy,

To last for ever!

Here must I pause and leave to angels' tongues
The vast remainder.-Human thought amaz'd,
Shrinks at the wide unfathomable deep;
Shrinks, but soon rises, and exulting views

The endless transports Heaven reserves for man.
Who would not, to secure these scenes of bliss,
Content endure whole ages of despair?

But Heaven requires not such an arduous task,
It mingles sweets with every bitter draught,
And strews the thorny path with fragrant flowers;
Short is the journey, and the end is peace.

Mrs. Wakeford.

THE WISH.

O BEAR me to some lonely cell,
Where peace and contemplation dwell,
Far from the noisy thoughtless crowd,
The vain, the busy, and the loud;
In some recess the hours I'd spend,
And there enjoy my book and friend.
I ask no stately pompous dome,
Content to call a cot my home.

No levell'd hill, nor artful bow'rs,
But all in simple beauty drest,

Among the trees, and herbs, and flow'rs
I'd wish to live secure and blest.

A pleasing dream! but ah! I see,
Such bliss was ne'er design'd for me.
Then with content I'll travel through
This wilderness of pain and woe;
Upward my tow'ring thoughts shall rise,
Nor wish a heav'n below the skies.

REMINISCENCES..

WHERE are ye with whom in life I started,
Dear companions of my golden days?
Ye are dead, estrang'd from me, or parted,-
Flown, like morning clouds a thousand ways.

Where art thou, in youth my friend and brother,
Yea in soul my friend and brother still?
Heaven received thee, and on earth none other
Can the void in my lorn bosom fill.

Where is she, whose looks were love and gladness?-
Love and gladness I no longer see!
She is gone; and since that hour of sadness,
Nature seems her sepulchre to me.

Where am I?-life's current faintly flowing,
Brings the welcome warning of release;
Struck with death, ah! whither am I going?
All is well, my spirit parts in peace.

J. Montgomery.

THE STRANGER AND HIS FRIEND.

Composed for the Ladies' Bazaar, in aid of the Leeds Dispensary.

MATT. XXV. 35-40.

A POOR wayfaring man of grief
Hath often cross'd me on my way,
Who sued so hunbly for relief
That I could never answer Nay:

« PreviousContinue »