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STANZAS ON THE DEATH OF A CHILD.
Taough parental affection lament thee,
And anguish, which loves to recall Thy image, may oft represent thee
As the fairest and loveliest of all :
There is so much bliss in thy lot,
And joy could not wish thee forgot.
When childhood, by sin yet untainted,
Gives up life, which it scarcely hath gain'd And, ere with affliction acquainted,
Hath its end and its object attain'd;
To soften the sorrow we feel;
We bow to the hand which can heal.
Death comes not to such in his terrors,
His pains are half pangless to them; Crimes have not succeeded to errors,
Nor conscience been roused to condemn. The prospect before and behind them
Awakes not one heart-stinging sigh; The season of suffering assign'd them
May be bitter, but soon is gone by.
There is much to relicvé, and restore us
To peace, when the child which we loy'd Hath ascended to glory before us,
Not unblest, though in mercy unprov'd! Fond fancy gives birth to the feeling
That part of ourselves is at rest ; Hope, humble, but holy and healing,
Sheds its balm in the yet bleeding breast.
With tenderest ties to this world,
With their cherub-like pinions unfurld?
To be visible, still they are near;
They tell us that change of existence
Has not sever'd, but strengthen'd each tie; And, that though we may think them at distance,
Yet still they are spiritually nigh. There yet is an unbroken union,
Though mortality's curtain may fall; And souls may keep up their communion,
Through the God of the spirits of all!
TO THE EVENING PRIMROSE. Fair flower, that shunn'st the glare of day,
Yet loy'st to open, meekly bold, To evening's hues of sober gray
Thy cup of paly gold;
Be thine the offering owing long
To thee, and to this pensive hour, Of one brief tributary song,
Though transient as thy flower. I love to watch at silent eve,
Thy scatter'd blossoms' lonely light, And have my inmost heart receive
The influence of that sight.
I love at such an hour to mark
Their beauty greet the night breeze chill, And shine, inid shadows gathering dark,
The garden's glory still.
For such, 'tis sweet to think the while,
When cares and griefs the breast invade, Is friendship's animating smile
In sorrow's dark’ning shade.
Thus it bursts forth, like thy pale cup
Glist’ning amid its dewy tears, And bears the sinking spirit up
Amid its chilling fears. Bat still more animating far,
If meek Religion's eye may trace,
The lolier hope of Grace.
Expands to glad the close of day,
May break forth Mercy's ray.
VERSES WRITTEN AFTER RETURNING FROM AN
NAL MORNING WALK.
It is the very carnival of nature,
The loveliest season that the year can show!
Her richest boons delighteth to bestow.
Have more than vernal softness; and the sun
Than in his summer splendour he has done,
Of leafy luxury begins to fade!
Yet seem but lovelier from each deepening shade,
It is the reason when each streamlet's sound,
Assumes a tone more penisive, more profound ;
Was glorious with the dawning light of day;
The mists of morning slowly melt away:
With dew-drops glistening, ever niore have heard
Or bleat of sheep, or lowing of the herd;
Can I do better, while my bosoins glows,
Even till enjoyment wishes for repose,
Can I do better than once more to trim My evening fire, and these my labours close,
Before my feelings chill, or sense wax dim, With solemn strain of prayer, fit for a parting hymn? "O God! it is an awful thing indeed
For one who estimates our nature well,
To name thee, thou Incomprehensible!
As in thy gospel thou hast done; nor less,
Could man have ever found to thee access,
“No! for the utmost that we could have done,
Were to have rais'd, as Paul at Athens saw, Altars upto the dread and unknown One,
Bending before, we knew not what, with awe;
Holier than that of Moses, what know we
Near thee in spirit: () then pardon me,
“ It shall be this: permit me not to place
My soul's affections on the things of earth; But, conscious of the treasures of thy grace,
To let them, in my inmost heart, give birth To gratitude proportion'u to their worth:
Teach me to feel that all which thou hast made Upon this mighty globe's gigantic girth,
Though meant with filial love to be survey'd, Is nothing to thyself: the shadow of a shade.
“If thou hast given me, more than unto some,
A feeling sense of nature's beauties fair, Which sometimes renders admiration dumb,
From consciousness that words cannot declare The beauty thou hast scatter'd every where;
O grant that this may lead me still, through all Thy works to thee! nor prove a treacherous snare
Adapted those affections to enthral, Which should be thine alone, and waken at thy call.
“ I would not merely dream my life away
In fancied rapture, or imagin'd joy ;
A murmuring brook, or any prouder toy,
So far alone as nature's charms can lead
Or innocent enjoyment serve to feed;
“ But while from one extreme thy power may keep
My erring fraility, O preserve ine still From dulness, nor let cold indifference steep
My senses in oblivion : it' the thrill Of early bliss must sober, as it will,
And should, when earthly things to heavenly yield. I would have feelings left, time cannot chill;
That, while I yet can walk through grove or field, I
may be conscious there of charms by thee reveal’d.
“ And when I shall, as, soon or late, I must,
Becoine infirm: in age, if I grow old ;
When I relinquish haunts where I have stroll'd
Thy glnrious works : forbid me to repine;
Before my mental eye, and let them shine
VERSES TO THE MEMORY OF A CHILD OF SUPERIOR IN
DOWMENTS AND EXTRAORDINARY PIETY.
It is not length of years which lends
The brightest loveliness to those,
Whose worth within our bosoms glows.
The age we honor standeth not
In locks of snow, or length of days;
A heart, which heavenly wisdom sways.
For wisdom, which is taught by truth,
Unlike mere worldly knowledge, finds
Its image e'en in infant minds.
Thus was this child made early wise,
Wise as those sages, who, from far,
The Christian church's gathering star.
What more could wisdom do for them,
Than guide them in the path they trod ?
Hath led his spirit home to God!
With holy hopes and humble joy.
“The brightest star of morning's host,"
Is that which shines in twilight skies;
And vanishes from mortal eyes.