Page images
PDF
EPUB

And all that late so radiant shone,
Now sunk in Winter's joyless tomb.

Thus blooming is Life's early spring;
For Nature on each path hath shed
Her smiles, and Pleasure seeks to fling
Her garlands round each youthful head.
My Spring has fled, and Summer now
Rich o'er my youthful cheek doth breathe,
And soon to deck this gladsome brow,
Autumn her holiest sweets will wreathe.

Yet, ere dim Winter's gloomy birth,
Or Age destroy this cheek of bloom,
Oh! I may press my mother Earth,
And quit this vain world for the tomb.

Then let me, Lord, at whose command,
Summer and Spring and Winter roll,
Praise, while I've life, th' Almighty hand
That spans the world from pole to pole.

At morning's light, Lord, of all space,-
I'll praise Thee; and at close of even;
Then lend me, Lord, some ray of grace
To light my trembling steps to Heaven.

RICHARD RYAN.

THE RAINBOW.

STILL young and fine, but what is still in view
We slight as old and soil'd, though fresh and new.
How bright wert thou when Shem's admiring eye
Thy burnish'd flaming arch did first descry;
When Terah, Nahor, Haran, Abram, Lot,
The youthful world's gray fathers in one knot

Did with intentive looks watch every hour

For thy new light, and tremble at each shower! When thou dost shine, darkness looks white and

fair;

Forms turn to music, clouds to smiles and air;
Rain gently spends his honey-drops, and pours
Balm on the cleft earth, milk on grass and flowers.
Bright pledge of peace and sunshine, the sure tye
Of thy Lord's hand, the object of his eye!
When I behold thee, though my light be dim,
Distant and low, I can in thine see him,
Who looks upon thee from his glorious throne,
And minds the covenant betwixt all and One.

VAUGHAN.

REASONS FOR THE SOUL'S IMMORTALITY.

FOR who did ever yet, in honour, wealth,

Or pleasure of the sense, contentment find? Who ever ceas'd to wish when he had health? Or, having wisdom, was not vex'd in mind?

Then as a bee, which among weeds doth fall Which seem sweet flowers, with lustre fresh and gay,

She lights on this and that, and tasteth all;

But, pleased with none, doth rise and soar away.

So when the soul finds here no true content,
And, like Noah's dove, can no sure footing take,
She doth return from whence she first was sent,
And flies to him that first her wings did make.

DAVIS.

VIRTUE

SWEET Day! so cool, so calm, so bright,
The bridal of the earth and sky;
The dew shall weep thy fall to-night ;-
For thou must die.

Sweet Rose! whose hue, angry and brave,
Bids the rash gazer wipe his eye;
Thy root is ever in its grave;—
And thou must die :

Sweet Spring! full of sweet days and roses;
A box, where sweets compacted lie;
My music shews ye have your closes :-
And all must die.

Only a sweet and virtuous soul,
Like season'd timber, never gives;
But, tho' the whole world turn to coal,
Then chiefly lives.

HERBERT.

A MEDITATION.

O THоυ great Power! in whom we move,
By whom we live, to whom we die,
Behold me through thy beams of love,
Whilst on this couch of tears I lie,
And cleanse my sordid soul within
By thy Christ's blood, the bath of sin.

No hallow'd oils, no gums I need,
No new-born drams of purging fire;
One rosy drop from David's seed

Was worlds of seas to quench thine ire :

O precious ransom; which once paid,
That Consummatum est was said.

And said by him, that said no more,

But seal'd it with his sacred breath;
Thou then, that hast dispurg'd our score,
And dying wert the death of death,
Be now, whilst on thy name we call,
Our life, our strength, our joy, our all!

WOTTON.

DEATH OF A CHRISTIAN.

CALM on the bosom of thy God,
Fair spirit! rest thee now!

E'er while with ours thy footsteps trod,
His seal was on thy brow.

Dust to its narrow house beneath!

Soul to its place on high!

They that have seen thy look in death,
No more may fear to die.

MRS. HEMANS.

THE PLACE OF REST.

THERE is an hour of peaceful rest
To mourning wanderers given;
There is a tear for soul distrest.
A balm for every wounded breast-
'Tis found above-in heaven!

There is a soft, a downy bed,

'Tis fair as breath of even :

A couch for weary mortals spread,
Where they may rest their aching head,
And find repose in heaven!

There is a home for weeping souls,
By sin and sorrow driven;
When tost on life's tempestuous shoals
Where storms arise, and ocean rolls,
And all is drear-but heaven!

There faiths lifts up the tearful eye.
The heart with anguish riven :
And views the tempest passing by,
The evening shadows quickly fly,
And all serene in heaven!

There fragrant flowers immortal bloom,
And joys supreme are given;
There rays divine disperse the gloom;
Beyond the confines of the tomb
Appears the dawn of heaven!

HYMN.

Perfect happiness not earthly.
PROVIDENCE, profusely kind,
Whereso'er you turn your eyes,
Bids you, with a grateful mind,
View a thousand blessings rise.

Thankful own what you enjoy;
But a changing world, like this,
Where a thousand fears annoy,
Cannot give you perfect bliss.

Perfect bliss resides above,
Far above yon azure sky;
Bliss that merits all your love,

Merits ev'ry anxious sigh.

ANON.

« PreviousContinue »