The wise old man is gone; His honoured head lies low, And his thoughts, of power are done, And his voice's manly flow, And his pen, that, for truth, like a sword, was drawn, Is still, and soulless, now. The brave old man is gone! With his armour on, he fell; Nor a groan, nor a sigh, was drawn, For mortal sufferings, keen and long, The good old man is gone! And no trouble can molest; For his crown of life is won, And the dead, in Christ, are blessed! Boston, March 15, 1830. LINES BY THE LAKE-SIDE. THIS placid lake, my gentle girl, Be emblem of thy life, As full of peace, and purity, As free from care and strife; And see, how every glorious form, A mirrored image lies; 1831. So be thy spirit, ever pure, To God, to virtue, given ; And thought, and word, and action, bear TO MY DEAR GEORGE HOBART. My beauty and my blessing, A year ago, to-day, Thy little eyes first opened, To the morning's blessed ray; And, as I saw thee lying, On thy gentle Mother's breast, My beauty, what strange wonders, My blessing, such I feel thee, To refresh life's dusty way; And lift the heart's affections, up, In prayers, for thee, to God. My beauty and my blessing, For thee, my prayers shall rise, That He, who gave thee, to us, WRITTEN ON LEAVING HOME. I LEAVE thee, dearest, for a while, I leave with thee, our little ones, But He who gave, and guards them, still, To bear His word, to sinful men, And lead them, to His throne. Thus must the Master's work be mine, I dare not "love thee," dear, so well, THE FOUNTAIN OPENED IN THE CHURCH. WITHIN the Church, a fountain springs; Its living streams, forever flow, "Ho, every one that thirsts, draw nigh-" Are welcome there; and these are thine. Come, then-the Spirit calls,-come near, SPIRIT OF SPRING. SPIRIT, that from the breathing south, Spirit of beauty, these thy charms, Spirit of Spring. Spirit of Spring, thou comest to wake, The slumbering energies of earth, The zephyr's breath, to thee, we owe, Spirit of Spring, when the cheek is pale, There is health, in thy balmy air, And peace, in that brow of beaming bright, And joy, in that eye of sunny light; And golden hope, in that flowing hair; Oh! that such influence e'er should fail, For a moment, Spirit of Spring, Spirit of health, peace, joy, and hope, Spirit of Spring. 1833. Yet fail it must, for it comes of earth, But oh! there's a changeless world above, The holy hopes, that earth has crost, And the friends, so dear, we have loved and lost, Who will not watch, and strive, and pray, To join the throng, of saints in light, THE AMULET OF GRACE. Written in "the Amulet." DEAREST, Could thy husband get, With his blood, an amulet, That could charm away thy woe, From his heart the stream should flow. But from mortal misery, Such redemption may not be; Vain before the holy God, Oceans filled with human blood. Yet let heaven and earth resound, |