SCOFFERS.

MOCK on, mock on, Voltaire, Rousseau, Mock on, mock on; 'tis all in vain; You throw the sand against the wind, And the wind blows it back again.

And every sand becomes a gem

Reflected in the beams divine;

Blown back, they blind the mocking eye, But still in Israel's paths they shine.

The atoms of Democritus

And Newton's particles of light

Are sands upon the Red Sea shore

Where Israel's tents do shine so bright.

THE AGONY OF FAITH.

'I SEE, I see,' the mother said,

'My children will die for lack of bread! What more has the merciless tyrant said?' The monk sat him down on her stony bed.

His eye was dry, no tear could flow,

A hollow groan bespoke his woe;

He trembled and shuddered upon the bed;

At length with a feeble cry he said :

'When God commanded this hand to write
In the shadowy hours of deep midnight,
He told me that all I wrote should prove
The bane of all that on earth I love.

'My brother starved between two walls, Thy children's crying my soul appals;

I mocked at the rack and the griding chain,My bent body mocks at their torturing pain.

Thy father drew his sword in the north, With his thousands strong he is marched forth; Thy brother hath armed himself in steel, To revenge the wrongs thy children feel.

'But vain the sword, and vain the bow,-
They never can work war's overthrow;
The hermit's prayer and the widow's tear
Alone can free the world from fear.

'For a tear is an intellectual thing,

And a sigh is the sword of an angel king; And the bitter groan of a martyr's woe

Is an arrow from the Almighty's bow.

The hand of vengeance found the bed
To which the purple tyrant fled;
The iron hand crushed the tyrant's head,
And became a tyrant in his stead.'

DAYBREAK.

To find the western path,
Right through the gates of wrath
I urge my way;
Sweet morning leads me on;

With soft repentant moan

I see the break of day.

The war of swords and spears,
Melted by dewy tears,

Exhales on high;

The sun is freed from fears,
And with soft grateful tears
Ascends the sky.

THAMES AND OHIO.

WHY should I care for the men of Thames And the cheating waters of chartered streams; Or shrink at the little blasts of fear

That the hireling blows into mine ear?

Though born on the cheating banks of Thames-
Though his waters bathed my infant limbs-
The Ohio shall wash his stains from me;
I was born a slave, but I go to be free.

YOUNG LOVE.

ARE not the joys of morning sweeter
Than the joys of night?

And are the vigorous joys of youth
Ashamed of the light?

Let age and sickness silent rob

The vineyard in the night;

But those who burn with vigorous youth
Pluck fruits before the light.

RICHES.

SINCE all the riches of this world

May be gifts from the devil and earthly kings, I should suspect that I worshipped the devil If I thanked my God for worldly things.

The countless gold of a merry heart,

The rubies and pearls of a loving eye, The idle man never can bring to the mart Nor the cunning hoard up in his treasury.