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To Riches? Alas! 'tis in vain,
Who hid in their turns have been hid;
The treasures are squander'd again;
And here in the grave are all metals forbid,
But the tinsel that shone on the dark coffin lid.
To the pleasures which mirth can afford,
The revel, the laugh, and the jeer?
Ah! here is a plentiful board,
But the guests are all mute as their pitiful cheer, And none but the worm is a reveler here.
Shall we build to affection and love? Ah! no; they have wither'd and died, Or fled with the spirit above,
Friends, brothers, and sisters are laid side by side, Yet none have saluted, and none have replied.
Unto sorrow? The dead cannot grieve, Not a sob, not a sigh meets mine ear
Which compassion itself could relieve;
Ah! sweetly they slumber, nor hope, love or fear; Peace, peace, is the watchword, the only one here.
Unto death, to whom monarchs must bow? Ah! no; for his empire is known,
And here there are trophies enow:
Beneath the cold dead, and around the dark stone, Are the signs of a sceptre that none may disown.
The first tabernacle to Hope we will build,
And look for the sleepers around us to rise;
The second to Faith, which ensures it fulfill'd;
and the third to the Lamb of the great sacrifice,
ho bequeath'd us them both when he rose to the
The Divine Omnipresence.
JEHOVAH GOD! thy gracious pow'r
On ev'ry hand we see ;
O may the blessings of each hour
Lead all our thoughts to thee.
If, on the wings of morn, we speed
To earth's remotest bound,
Thy right hand will our footsteps lead,
Thine arm our path surroud.
Thy pow'r is in the ocean deeps,
And reaches to the skies;
Thine eye of mercy never sleeps,
Thy goodness never dies.
From morn till noon, till latest eve,
The hand of God we see!
And all the blessings we receive,
Ceaseless, proceed from thee.
In all the varying scenes of time,
On thee our hopes depend;
In ev'ry age, in ev'ry clime,
Our Father and our Friend.
TO THE OMNIPOTENT GOD.
ALMIGHTY King, who sitt'st above,
Enthron'd with majesty and love,
Eternal arbiter of fate;
Whether we name thee God of all,
Or Alla, Jove, or Mithra call,'
Thou, thou, alone art truly great!
Princes, the shadows of thy nod,
Live but to shew how low to God
Is all the gaudy pride of earth:
Thy kingdom comprehends all space;
Thy crown, enrich'd with pearls of grace,
Is glorious as the morning's birth!
If earth's an atom in thy sight,
Enwrapt in folly's mazy night,
How low am I that on it dwell!
Thy brightness, not the sun can show;
Thy voice, not all the winds that blow,
Nor all the rolling thunders tell ;
The earthquake, and the tempest, both
Are but the bubbles of thy wrath,
When vice appall'd shrinks at thy frown;
But fearless virtue's heav'nly form,
Sits, like an angel, 'mid the storm,
And smiling wreathes her olive crown.
Grasp the whole earth within thy hand,
Bid heav'n be nought at thy command,
Thou, only thou, be still the same;
The void immense itself shall cry,
"Glory to thee, O God most high,"
And ever "hallow'd be thy name!"
Ir there be one whose thoughts delight to wander
In pleasure's fields, where love's bright streams
If there be one who longs to find [meander;
Where all the purer blisses are enshrin'd,—
A happy resting-place of virtuous worth,-
A blessed Paradise on earth,-
Let him survey the joy-conferring union
Of brothers who are bound in fond communion,
And not by force of blood alone,
But by their mutual sympathies are known,
And every heart and every mind relies
Upon fraternal kindred ties.
Oh! blest abode, where love is ever vernal,
Where tranquil peace and concord are eternal,
Where none usurp the highest claim,
But each with pride asserts the other's fame;
Oh! what are all earth's joys compar'd to thee-
E'en as the ointment whose sweet odours blended From Aaron's head upon his beard descended;
Which hung a while in fragrance there,
Bedewing every individual hair,
And falling thence, with rich perfume ran o'er
The holy garb the prophet wore.
So doth the unity that lives with brothers
Share its best blessings and its joys with others,
And makes them seem as if one frame
Contain'd their minds, and they were form'd the same
And spreads its sweetest breath o'er every part,
Until it penetrates the heart.
E'en as the dew, that at the break of morning
All nature with its beauty is adorning,
And flows from Hermon calm and still,
And bathes the tender grass on Zion's hill,
And to the young and withering herb resigns
The drops for which it pines:
So are fraternal peace and concord ever
The cherishers, without whose guidance never
Would sainted quiet seek the breast-
The life, the soul of unmolested rest;
The antidote to sorrow and distress,
And prop of human happiness.
Ah! happy they whom genial concord blesses:
Pleasure for them reserves her fond caresses,
And joys to mark the fabric rare,
On virtue founded, stand unshaken there;
Whence vanish all the passions that destroy
Tranquillity and inward joy.
Who practise good are in themselves rewarded,
For their own deeds lie in their hearts recorded;
And thus fraternal love, when bound
By virtue, is with its own blessings crown'd,
And tastes in sweetness that itself bestows,
What use, what power from concord flows.
God in his boundless mercy joys to meet it;
His promises of future blessings greet it,
And fixt prosperity, which brings
Long life, and ease, beneath its shadowing wings,
And joy and fortune-that remains sublime
Beyond all distance, change, and time.
HYMN FOR THE NEW YEAR.
THE year is gone, and silence now
Hangs o'er its every joy;
But 'midst the stillness of the past,
Its voice is heard on high.
It speaks it calls, aloud to all,
Would we its accents hear;