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 mortals 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 reveller 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 insures it fulfill'd,
And the third to the LAMB of the Great Sacrifice,
Who bequeathed us them both when he rose to the skies.
ONE hour with Thee, my God! when daylight breaks
Over a world thy guardian care has kept,
When the fresh soul from soothing slumber wakes,
To praise the love that watch'd me while I slept; When with new strength my blood is bounding free, That first, best, sweetest hour, I'll give to Thee.
One hour with Thee, when busy day begins
Her never-ceasing round of bustling care,
When I must meet with toil, and pain, and sins,
And through them all thy holy cross must bear;
O then to arm me for the strife, to be
Faithful to death, I'll kneel an hour to Thee.
One hour with Thee, when rides the glorious sun
High in mid-heaven, and panting nature feels
Lifeless and overpower'd, and man has done
For one short hour with urging life's swift wheels;
In that deep pause my soul from care shall flec,
To make that hour of rest one hour with Thee.
One hour with Thee, when sadden'd twilight flings
Her soothing charm o'er lawn, and vale, and grove,
When there breathes up from all created things
The sweet enthralling sense of thy deep love;
And when its softening power descends on me,
My swelling heart shall spend one hour with Thee.
One hour with Thee, my God! when softly night
Climbs the high heaven with solemn step and slow,
When thy sweet stars, unutterably bright,
Are telling forth thy praise to men below;
Oh then, while far from earth my thoughts would flee,
I'll spend in prayer one joyful hour with Thee.
EAR, Father, hear thy faint afflicted flock
Cry to thee, from the desert and the rock:
While those, who seek to slay thy children, hold
Blasphemous worship under roofs of gold;
And the broad goodly lands, with pleasant airs,
That nurse the grape and wave the grain, are theirs.
Yet better were this mountain wilderness,
And this wild life of danger and distress-
Watchings by night and perilous flight by day,
And meetings in the depths of earth to pray:
Better,.far better, than to kneel with them,
And pay the impious rite thy laws condemn.
Thou, Lord, dost hold the thunder; the firm land
Tosses in billows when it feels thy hand;
Thou dashest nation against nation, then
Stillest the angry world to peace again.
Oh! touch their stony hearts who hurt thy sons-
The murderers of our wives and little ones.
Yet, mighty God, yet shall thy frown look forth
Unveil'd, and terribly shall shake the earth.
Then the foul power of priestly sin, and all
Its long upheld idolatries shall fall:
Thou shalt raise up the trampled and opprest,
And thy deliver'd saints shall dwell in rest.
My youth had glad and golden hours, but these were few and fleet,
For I was early call'd to quit my boyhood's blest retreat;
And so, with not a friend to cheer or counsel me, was thrown
Amid the herd of Mammon's slaves-and found myself alone!
I in the path of letters toil'd—that path so thickly spread
With roses-ah! the thorns are felt by those who up it tread!
The bitter pangs of "hope deferr'd" were mine, in the pursuit ;
And long I trimm'd and pruned the vine, while others pluck'd the fruit.
But cheerly, now, my vessel glides:-the quicksand and the shoal
Are past; and wreck-denouncing waves no more around her roll;
The clouds that round her early course cast doubt and gloom, are gone;
And winds, that then adversely blew, now bear me bravely on!
of foes whom, in my uphill road, I found so fierce and strong,
A few have seen, and deeply felt, they did me grievous wrong;
And others have been swept from earth by Time's unsparing wing;
And some, if they retain their wrath, now lack the power to sting.
My cottage hath a blazing hearth-my board hath ample fare,
And healthful cheeks and beaming eyes and merry hearts are there:
Their mother's smile is yet as sweet as when, at first, it told
She prized a fond and faithful heart above the worldling's gold.
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