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Sets some gay joy before our face,
Then claps a trouble in its place;
Turns up some loss for promised gain,
And conjures pleasure into pain.

Be wise then, O ye worldly tribe,
Nor sell your conscience for a bribe;
When Satan tempts you to begin,
Resist him, and refuse to sin:
Bad is the bargain on the whole,
To gain the world and lose the soul!

HERE AND THERE

OR,

THIS WORLD AND THE NEXT.

BEING SUITABLE THOUGHTS FOR A NEW YEAR.

Here bliss is short, imperfect, insincere,
But total, absolute, and perfect there.

Here time's a moment, short our happiest state;
There infinite duration is our date.

Here Satan tempts, and troubles e'en the best;
There Satan's power extends not to the blest.
In a weak, sinful body here I dwell;

But there I drop this frail and sickly shell.

Here my best thoughts are stained with guilt and fear,
But love and pardon shall be perfect there.

Here my best duties are defiled with sin;
There all is ease without, and peace within.
Here feeble faith supplies my only light,
There faith and hope are swallowed up in sight.
Here love of self my fairest works destroys,
There love of God shall perfect all my joys.
Here things, as in a glass, are darkly shown;
There I shall know as clearly as I'm known.

Frail are the fairest flowers which bloom below,
There freshest palms on roots immortal grow.
Here wants or cares perplex my anxious mind,
But spirits there a calm fruition find.

Here disappointments my best schemes destroy,
There those that sowed in tears shall reap in joy.
Here vanity is stamped on all below,

Perfection there on every good shall grow.
Here my fond heart is fastened on some friend,
Whose kindness may, whose life must, have an end;
But there no failure can I ever prove;

God cannot disappoint, for God is love.

Here Christ for sinners suffered, groaned, and bled; But there he reigns the great triumphant head:

Here, mocked and scourged, he wore a crown of thorns;
A crown of glory there his brow adorns.

Here error clouds the will, and dims the sight;
There all is knowledge, purity and light.
Here, so imperfect is this mortal state,
If blest myself, I mourn some other's fate.
At every human wo I here repine;

The joy of every saint shall there be mine.
Here, if I lean, the world shall pierce my heart,
But there that broken reed and I shall part.
Here on no promised good can I depend,
But there the Rock of ages is my friend.
Here, if some sudden joy delight inspire,
The dread to lose it damps the rising fire;
But there, whatever good the soul employ,
The thought that 'tis eternal, crowns the joy.

THE

HONEST MILLER OF GLOUCESTERSHIRE.

A TRUE BALLAD.

Or all the callings and the trades
Which in our land abound,
The miller's is as useful, sure,
As can on earth be found.

The lord or squire of high degree
Is needful to the state,

Because he lets the land he owns
In farms both small and great.

The farmer, he manures the land,
Or else what corn could grow?
The ploughman cuts the furrow deep
Ere he begins to sow.

And though no wealth he has, except
The labor of his hands,
Yet honest industry's as good

As houses or as lands.

The thresher, he is useful too
To all who like to eat ;

Unless he winnowed well the corn,

The chaff would spoil the wheat.

But vain the squire's and farmer's care,
And vain the thresher's toil;

And vain would be the ploughman's pains,
Who harrows up the soil;

And vain, without the miller's aid,

The sowing and the dressing:

Then sure an honest miller, he

Must be a public blessing.

And such a miller now I make
The subject of my song,

Which, though it shall be very true,
Shall not be very long.

This miller lives in Glo'stershire :
I shall not tell his name;

For those who seek the praise of God,
Desire no other fame.

In last hard winter-who forgets
The frost of ninety-five ?—
Then was all dismal, scarce, and dear,
And no poor man could thrive.

Then husbandry long time stood still,
And work was at a stand;
To make the matter worse, the mills
Were froze throughout the land.

Our miller dwelt beside a stream,
All underneath the hill;

Which flowed amain when others froze,
Nor ever stopped the mill.

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Both rich and poor our miller sought,
For none but he could grind.

His neighbors cried, "Now, miller, seize
The time to heap up store,
Since thou of young and helpless babes
Hast got full half a score.'

For folks, when tempted to grow rich,
By means not over nice,

Oft make their numerous babes a plea
To sanctify the vice.

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"When God afflicts the land," said he,
"Shall I afflict it more?

And watch for times of public wo,
To wrong both rich and poor?

"Thankful to that Almighty Power
Who makes my river flow,
I'll use the means he gives to soothe
A hungry neighbor's wo.

"My river flows when others freeze,
But 'tis at his command;

For rich and poor I'll grind alike;
No bribe shall stain my hand!"

So all the country who had corn
Here found their wants redressed;

May every village in the land

Be with such millers blessed!

KING DIONYSIUS

AND

SQUIRE DAMOCLES.

A NEW SONG TO AN OLD STORY.

PROPER TO BE SUNG AT ALL FEASTS AND MERRY MEETINGS

THERE was a heathen man, sir,

Belonging to a king;

And still it was his plan, sir,

To covet every thing.

And if you don't believe me,
I'll name him, if you please;
For let me not deceive ye,
'Twas one Squire Damocles.

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