To heaven my earthly friends are gone, And thither are my comforts flown, But I continue here!

Be thou my Patron-Thou my Guide! This friendless heart from sorrow hide, Reposing on thy care!

If I am spared throughout the span
That makes the narrow life of man,
And reach to hoary age;
Instruct me in thy holy will!
Teach me the duties to fulfil,
Of each successive stage!

But if thy wisdom should decree
An early sepulchre for me,
Father, thy will be done!
On thy dear bosom I rely;
And if I live, or if I die,

O leave me not alone!

The Feeling Heart.

AN ELEGIAC PETITION.

WHILE others ask for riches, or for fame,
If wise their wish, benign the boon impart ;
Though different mine, their suit let others blame :
But, O! on me bestow the feeling heart.

Wide as the world of rationals, my soul,
Diffuse the generous and the heart-felt wish :
No creed, no clime, the rising flame controul,
But may
it burn for universal bliss.

Teach me to feel the joy another knows,

And catch the sparkling radiance of his eyes: And, while my breast with beams reflected glows, Forbid pale envy's haggard train to rise.

True as the trembling needle to the pole,

Instruct my heart to turn to other's woe;

May equal sympathy affect my soul,

The while it turns, it always trembles too.

Though rudely pierced with many a vicious wound,
Still soft, still tender, be my feeling breast:
For every wretch, the generous tear be found;
The full sigh heaved, for every one distress'd.

Should pale disease my lonely cot invade,

And health my humble roof for ever fly; Let not the selfish tear alone be shed,

Nor, unrelieved, the wretched wander by.

Should poverty's hard hand my power confine,
O let it ne'er contract the generous heart;
Teach me, the scanty pittance to resign,

And some small portion freely to impart.

When famish'd hunger craves the humble meal,
And shiv'ring nakedness calls loud for aid;

My smaller wants, forbid me then to feel,
Nor bear to see their humble suit denied.

When drooping melancholy claims my care,
And grief's dejected offspring wanders by ;
If not remove their sorrows, may I share,
And speak a pitying word, or breathe a sigh.

Be it my grand employ, to calm distress;

To wipe the tear from off the mourner's check; With lenient balm, to heal the wounded breast, And consolation's sweetest love to speak.

Through all the varied scenes of changing life,
Ye pitying powers, this glad'ning boon impart ;
All else, as best beseems, withhold or give,
But, O! deny me not the feeling heart.

On Piety.

HAIL! heavenly piety, supremely fair!
Whose smiles can calm the horrors of despair;
Bid in each breast unusual transports flow,

And wipe the tears that stain the cheek of woe.
How blest the man, who leaves each meaner

scene,

Like thee, exalted, smiling, and serene!

Whose rising soul pursues a nobler flight,
Whose bosom melts with more refined delight;
Whose thoughts, elate with transports all sublime,
Can soar at once beyond the view of Time.

One To-day is worth two To

morrows.

All who has power to say,
To-morrow's sun shall warmer glow;
And o'er this gloomy vale of woe,
Diffuse a brighter ray?

Ah! who is ever sure
Though all that can the soul delight,
This hour enchants the wond'ring sight
These raptures will endure?

Is there, in life's dull toil, One certain moment of repose; One ray to dissipate our woes, And bid reflection smile?

We seek Hope's gentle aid;We think the lovely phantom pours Her balmy incense on those flow'rs Which blossom but to fade.