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In midst of dangers, fears, and death,
Thy goodness I'll adore ;
And humbly hope for more.
Thy sacrifice shall be ;
Shall join my soul to Thee.
By COWPER. PATRIOTS have toil'd, and in their country's cause Bled nobly; and their deeds, as they deserve, Receive proud recompense. We give in charge Their names to the sweet lyre. The historic muse, Proud of the treasure, marches with it down To latest times, and sculpture, in her turn, Gives bond in stone and ever-during brass To guard them, and to immortalize her trust : But fairer wreaths are due, though never paid, To those, who, posted at the shrine of truth, Have fallen in her defence. A patriot's blood, Well spent in such a strife, may earn indeed, And for a time ensure, to his loved land The sweets of liberty and equal laws; But martyrs struggle for a brighter prize, And win it with more pain. Their blood is shed In confirmation of the noblest claim Our claim to feed upon immortal truth, To walk with God, to be divinely free, To soar, and to anticipate the skies. Yet few remember them. They lived unknown Till persecution draggd them into fame, And chased them up to heaven. Their ashes flew No marble tells us whither. With their names No bard embalms and sanctifies his song : And history, so warm on meaner themes, Is cold on this. She execrates indeed The tyranny that doom'd them to the fire, But gives the glorious sufferers little praise.
THE STAR OF BETHLEHEM.
By HENRY KIRke White.
WHEN marshall'd on the nightly plain,
Can fix the sinner's wandering eye;
Once on the raging seas I rode;
The storm was loud, the night was dark;
The wind that toss'd my foundering bark:
It was the star of Bethlehem!
It was my guide, my light, my all,
For ever and for evermore
The star-the star of Bethlehem!
TO THE BUTTERFLY.
CHILD of the sun! pursue thy rapturous flight,
Yet wert thou once a worm-a thing that crept
To burst a seraph in the blaze of day.
Passages for the Memory. .
THE IMPARTIAL BANQUET,
The unfashionable worm Respectless of the crown-illumined brow, To cheek’s bewitchment, or the sceptred clench, With no more eyes than Love, creeps courtier-like On his thin belly, to his food,
,--no matter How clad or nicknamed it might strut above, What age or sex,- it is his dinner-time.
LOVE OF CHRIST.
“Drop, drop, slow tears !
INSTABILITY OF HAPPINESS.
This is the state of man; to-day he puts forth
LOVE YOUR NEIGHBOUR.
Friend, do not crouch to those above,
And do not tread on those below; Love those, they're worthy of thy love;
Love these, and thou wilt make them so.
WRITTEN IN A BIBLE.
The lapse of time and rivers is the same,
We must not stint
malicious censurers, which ever,
Sum up at night what thou has done by day;
And in the morning what thou hast to do. Dress and undress thy soul. Watch the decay,
And growth of it. If with thy watch, that too Be down, then wind up both. Since we shall be Most surely judged, make thy accounts agree.
Do something ! do it soon! with all thy might;
wing would droop if long at rest,
Contemplate till it shall possess thy mind,
And kindle in thy heart a flame refined:
To this high purpose; to begin, pursue,
Strength to complete, and with delight review, And strength to give the praise where all is due.
We still have judgment here; that we but teach Bloody instructions, which, being taught, return To plague the inventor: This even-handed justice Commends the ingredients of our poison'd chalice To our own lips.
A mind that, in a calm, angelic mood