Imagens das páginas

For priests, he said, are patterns for the rest;
The gold of heaven, who bear the God impress'd;
But when the precious coin is kept unclean,
The Sovereign's image is no longer seen.
If they be foul, on whom the people trust,
Well may the baser brass contract a rust.

The prelate for his holy life he prized;
The worldly pomp of prelacy despised.
His Savior came not with a gaudy show:
Nor was his kingdom of the world below.
Patience in want, and poverty of mind,
These marks of church and churchmen he design'd,
And living taught, and dying left behind.

Such was the saint, that shone with every grace, Reflecting, Moses-like, his Maker's face. God saw his image lively was express'd, And his own work, as in creation, bless'd.


How sweet, upon this sacred day,

The best of all the seven,
To cast our earthly thoughts away,

And think of God and heaven!

How sweet to be allow'd to pray

Our sins may be forgiven!
With filial confidence to say,

“Father! who art in heaven!"

With humble hope to bend the knee,

And, free from folly's leaven, Confess that we have stray'd from thee,

The righteous Judge of heaven! How sweet the words of peace to hear

From Him to whom 't is given To wake the penitential tear,

And lead the way to heaven!
And if to make all sin depart

Vainly the will has striven,
He who regards the inmost heart

Will send his grace from heaven.

When from the bosom that was dear,

By cold unkindness driven, The heart that knows no refuge here,

Shall find a friend in heaven.

And when from all of bliss below

In solitude 't is riven,
He who dispenses weal or wo

Shall raise it up to heaven.

Then hail, thou sacred, blessed day,

The best of all the seven !
When hearts unite their vows to pay

Of gratitude to Heaven !


She said she was alone within the world :
How could she but be sad !
She whisper'd something of a lad,
With eyes of blue, and light hair sweetly curld;
But the grave had the child !
And yet his voice she heard,
When at the lattice, calm and mild,
The mother in the twilight saw the vine-leaves stirr’d.
“Mother,” it seem' to say,
“I love thee;
When thou dost by the side of thy lone pillow pray,
My spirit writes the words above thee;
Mother, I watch o'er thee—I love thee.”
Where was the husband of that widow'd thing,
That seraph's earthly sire ?
A soldier dares a soldier's fire;
The murderous ball brought death upon its wing,
Beneath a foreign sky,-
He fell in sunny Spain ;
The wife, in silence, saw him die,
But the fond boy's blue eyes gave drops like summer

rain. “Mother,” the poor lad cried, “He's dying! We are close by thee, father—at thy bleeding sideDost thou not hear thy Arthur crying ?Mother, his lips are closed--he's dying !”

It was a stormy time when the man fell;
And the youth shrunk and pined;
Consumption's worm his pulse entwined-

Prepare his shroud,” rung out the convent bell.
Yet, through his pain he smiled,
To soothe a parent's grief :-
Sad soul ! she could not be beguiled :
She saw the bud would leave the guardian leaf!

Mother," he faintly said,
" Come near me-
Kiss me—and let me in my father's grave be laid-
I've pray'd that I might still be near thee;
Mother, I'll come again and cheer thee !”




ING ON THE WATER.”Gen, i. 2.

Spirit of spirits ! who, through every part

Of space expanded, and of endless time,

Beyond the stretch of laboring thought sublime,
Badst uproar into beauteous order start;
Before Heaven was, Thou art;

Ere spheres beneath us roll’d, or spheres above,
Ere earth in firmamental ether hung,

Thou sat'st alone; till through thy mystic love
Things unexisting to existence sprung,
And grateful descant sung :

What first impell’d thee to exert thy might?
Goodness unlimited, What glorious light

Thy power directed ? Wisdom without bound.
What proved it first? O! guide my fancy right.

Oh, raise from cumbrous ground

My soul, in rapture drown'd; That fearless it may soar on wings of fire, For thou who only know'st, thou only canst inspire. Omniscient Spirit! whose all-ruling power

Bids from each sense bright emanations beam;

Glows in the rainbow; sparkles in the stream;
Smiles in the bud; and glistens in the flower,
That crowns each vernal bower;
Sighs in the gale; and warbles in the throat

Of every bird that hails the bloomy spring,
Or tells his love in many a liquid note,

Whilst envious artists touch the rival string,

Till rocks and forests ring;
Breathes in rich fragrance from the sandal grove,
Or where the precious musk-deer playful rove;

In dulcet juice from clustering fruit distils,
And burns salubrious in the tasteful clove;

Soft banks and verd'rous hills

Thy present influence fills; In air, in floods, in caverns, woods and plains, Thy will enlivens all; thy sovereign spirit reigns. Blue crystal vault and elemental fires

That in ethereal fluid blaze and breathe;

Thou tossing main, whose snaky branches wreathe This pensile globe with intertwisted gyres ; Mountains, whose radiant spires Presumptuous rear their summits to the skies,

And blend their emerald hues with sapphire light;

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