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I had been three weeks absent; in that time
And spar'd not one of all the infant group.
THE HAPPY EVENING.
How blest is he whose tranquil mind,
The years that time has cast behind,
So, when the transient storm is past,
The loveliest is the ev'ning hour.
LINES LEFT AT A FRIEND'S HOUSE.
O THOU dread Pow'r, who reign'st above!
When, for this scene of peace and love,
The hoary sire-the mortal stroke,
To bless his little filial flock,
And show what good men are.
She, who her lovely offspring eyes
Their hope, their stay, their darling youth,
In manhood's dawning blush!
Bless him, thou God of love and truth,
The beauteous, seraph, sister-band,
Thou know'st the snares on ev'ry hand,
When soon or late they reach that coast,
He left his native land, and far away
He left his home, around whose humble hearth
Te left the scenes by youthful hopes endear'd— The woods, the streams that sooth'd his infant ear, The plants, the trees, that he himself had rear'd, And every charm to love and fancy dear.
All these he left, with sad but willing heart, Though unallured by honours, wealth, or fame, In them not even his wishes claim'd a part,
And the world knew not of his very name.
Canst thou not guess what taught his steps to stray? 'Twas love!-but not such love as worldlings That often smiles its sweetest to betray, [own, And stabs the breast that offer'd it a throne.
Twas love to God! and love to all mankind;
His master bade the obedient servant go,
And try if he in distant realms could find [know. Some, who His name and saving grace would 'Twas this that nerv'd him when he saw the tears His aged mother at their parting shed;
'Twas this that taught her how to calm her fears, And beg a heavenly blessing on his head.
'Twas this that made his father calmly bear
"And go," he said, "though I, with mortal eyes, Shall ne'er behold thy filial reverence more; But, when from earth to heav'n our spirits rise, The hand that gave him shall my child restore. "I bid thee go, though human tears will steal From eyes that see the course thou hast to run And God forgive me if I wrongly feel,
Like Abraham call'd to sacrifice his son."
And he is gone! with ardent steps he prest
Did none of those, who, in a favour'd land,
'Tis not for me to answer questions here;
TIME speeds away-away-away:
Time speeds away-away-away:
which they can return no more.
Time speeds away-away-away:
KNOX'S SONGS OF ISRAEL.
IT IS GOOD TO BE HERE.
METHINKS it is good to be here,
But the shadows of eve that encompass the gloom,
Shall we build to ambition? Ah! no;
Affrighted he shrinketh away;
For see! they would pin him below
To a small narrow cave, and begirt with cold clay, To the meanest of reptiles a peer and a prey.
To Beauty? Ah! no; she forgets
The charms which she wielded before :
Nor knows the foul worm that he frets
The skin which, but yesterday, fools could adore For the smoothness it held, or the tint which it wore.
Shall we build to the purple of Pride,
The trappings which dizen the proud?
Alas! they are all laid aside,
And here's neither dress nor adornment allow'd, But the long winding sheet, and the fringe of the shroud.