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"From out their substance issuing, maintain

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Herbage that never fails; no grass springs up "So green, so fresh, so plentiful, as mine!"

See, in this well conditioned Soul, a Third
To match with your good Couple that put forth
Their homely graces on the mountain side.
But thinly sown these Natures; rare at least

The mutual aptitude of seed and soil

That yields such kindly product. He-whose bed poor Pensioner

Perhaps yon loose sods cover, the

Brought yesterday from our sequestered dell
Here to lie down in lasting quiet-he,

If living now, could otherwise report

Of rustic loneliness: that grey-haired Orphan—

So call him, for humanity to him

No parent was-could feelingly have told,

In life, in death, what Solitude can breed

Of selfishness, and cruelty, and vice;

Or, if it breed not, hath not power to cure.

—But your compliance, Sir! with our request
My words too long have hindered.”

Undeterred,

Perhaps incited rather, by these shocks,

In no ungracious opposition, given
To the confiding spirit of his own
Experienced faith, the reverend Pastor said,
Around him looking, "Where shall I begin?
Who shall be first selected from my Flock
Gathered together in their peaceful fold?”
He paused-and having lifted up his eyes
To the pure Heaven, he cast them down again
Upon the earth beneath his feet; and spake.
-"To a mysteriously-consorted Pair ·
This place is consecrate; to Death and Life,
And to the best Affections that proceed
From their conjunction. Consecrate to faith
In Him who bled for man upon the Cross;
Hallowed to Revelation; and no less

To Reason's mandates; and the hopes divine
Of pure Imagination;-above all,

To Charity, and Love; that have provided,
Within these precincts, a capacious bed
And receptacle, open to the good

And evil, to the just and the unjust;

In which they find an equal resting-place:
Even as the multitude of kindred brooks

A

And streams, whose murmur fills this hollow vale,

Whether their course be turbulent or smooth,

Their waters clear or sullied, all are lost

Within the bosom of yon chrystal Lake,

And end their journey in the same repose!

And blest are they who sleep; and we that know,

While in a spot like this we breathe and walk,
That All beneath us by the wings are covered
Of motherly Humanity, outspread

And gathering all within their tender shade,
Though loth and slow to come! A battle-field,
In stillness left when slaughter is no more,
With this compared, is a strange spectacle!

A rueful sight the wild shore strewn with wrecks
And trod by people in afflicted quest

Of friends and kindred, whom the angry Sea

Restores not to their prayer! Ah! who would think That all the scattered subjects which compose Earth's melancholy vision through the space

Of all her climes; these wretched-these depraved, To virtue lost, insensible of peace,

From the delights of charity cut off,

To pity dead-the Oppressor and the Oppressed;
Tyrants who utter the destroying word,

And Slaves who will consent to be destroyed;

Were of one species with the sheltered few,

Who with a dutiful and tender hand

Did lodge, in an appropriated spot,

This file of Infants; some that never breathed

The vital air; and others, who, allowed
That privilege, did yet expire too soon,

Or with too brief a warning, to admit
Administration of the holy rite

That lovingly consigns the Babe to the arms

Of Jesus, and his everlasting care.

These that in trembling hope are laid apart;
And the besprinkled Nursling, unrequired
Till he begins to smile upon the breast
That feeds him; and the tottering Little-one
Taken from air and sunshine when the rose

Of Infancy first blooms upon his cheek;

The thinking, thoughtless School-boy; the bold Youth Of soul impetuous, and the bashful Maid

Smitten while all the promises of life

Are opening round her; those of middle age,

Cast down while confident in strength they stand,
Like pillars fixed more firmly, as might seem,
And more secure, by very weight of all
That, for support, rests on them; the decayed
And burthensome; and, lastly, that poor few
Whose light of reason is with age extinct;
The hopeful and the hopeless, first and last,
The earliest summoned and the longest spared,
Are here deposited, with tribute paid

Various; but unto each some tribute paid;
As if, amid these peaceful hills and groves,
Society were touched with kind concern,

And gentle "Nature grieved that One should die ;"
Or, if the change demanded no regret,

Observed the liberating stroke-and blessed.

-And whence that tribute? wherefore these regards?

Not from the naked Heart alone of Man

(Though framed to high distinction upon earth
As the sole spring and fountain-head of tears,

His own peculiar utterance for distress
Or gladness) No," the philosophic Priest
Continued, " 'tis not in the vital seat
Of feeling to produce them, without aid

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