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The debtor's friends (for still he has some friends) His child shall still receive instruction's toon.
Have time to visit him; the blossoming pea, But hark,-a noise, a cry,-a gleam of swords
That climbs the rust-worn bars, seems fresher tinged; Resistance is in vain,--he's borne away,
And on the little turf, this day renew'd,

Nor is allow'd to clasp his weeping child.
The lark, his prison mate, quivers the wing

My innocent, so helpless, yet so gay!
With more than wonted joy. See, through the bars How could I bear to be thus rudely torn
That pallid face retreating from the view, From thee ;-to see thee lift thy little arm,
That glittering eye following, with hopeless look, And impotently strike the ruffian man,-
The friends of former years, now passing by To hear thee bid him chidingly-begone!
In peaceful fellowship to worship God:

O ye who live at home, and kiss each eve
With them, in days of youthful years, he roam'd Your sleeping infants ere you go to rest,
O’er bill and dale, o’er broomy knowe; and wist And, waken'd by their call, lift up your eyes
As little as the blithest of the band

Upon their morning smile,-think, think of those,
Of this his lot; condemn'd, condemn'd unheard, Who, torn away without one farewell word
The party for his judge ;-among the throng, To wife or children, sigh the day of life
The Pharisaical hard-hearted man

In banishment from all that's dear to man;-
He sees pass on, to join the heaven-taught prayer, O raise your voices in one general peal
Forgive our debts as we forgive our debtors : Remonstrant, for th’ oppress'd. And ye, who sit
From unforgiving lips most impious prayer ! Month after month devising impost laws,
O happier far the victim than the hand

Give some small portion of your midnight vigils
That deals the legal stab! The injured man To mitigate, if not remove, the wrong.
Enjoys internal, settled calm ; to him

Relentless justice! with fate-furrow'd brow;
The Sabbath bell sounds peace; he loves to meet Wherefore to various crimes of various guilt,
His fellow sufferers to pray and praise :

One penalty, the most severe, allot?
And many a prayer, as pure as e'er was breathed Why, pall’d in state, and mitred with a wreath
In holy fanes, is sigh'd in prison halls.

Of nightshade, dost thou sit portentously,
Ah me! that clank of chains, as kneel and rise Beneath a cloudy canopy of sighs,
The death-doom'd row. But see, a smile illumes Of fears, of trembling hopes, of boding doubts;
The face of some; perhaps they're guiltless : 0! Death's dart thy mace !-Why are the laws of God,
And must high-minded honesty endure

Statutes promulged in characters of fire,* The ignominy,of a felon's fate!

Despised in deep concerns, where heavenly guidance No, 'tis not ignominious to be wrongd:

Is most required? The murderer-let him die,
No; conscious exultation swells their hearts And him who lists his arm against his parent,
To think the day draws nigh, when in the view His country,-or his voice against his God.
Of angels, and of just men perfect made,

Let crimes less heinous dooms less dreadful meet
The mark which rashness branded on their names Than loss of life! so said the law divine:
Shall be effaced ;-when wasted on life's storm, That law beneficent, which mildly stretch'd,
Their souls shall reach the Sabbath of the skies ; To men forgotten and forlorn, the hand
As birds from blcak Norwegia's wintry coast Of restitution: Yes, the trumpet's voice
Blown out to sea, strive to regain the shore, The Sabbath of the jubileet announced :
But, vainly striving, yield them to the blast. The freedom-freighted blast, through all the land
Swept o'er the deep to Albion's genial isle, At once, in every city, echoing rings,
Amazed they light amid the bloomy sprays From Lebanon to Carmel's woody cliffs,
Of some green vale, there to enjoy new loves, So loud, that far within the desert's verge
And join in harmony unheard before.

The couching lion starts, and glares around.
The land is groaning 'neath the guilt of blood Free is the bondman now, each one returns
Spilt wantonly: for every death-doom'd man, To his inheritance: The man, grown old
Who, in his boyhood, has been left untaught In servitude far from his native fields,
That wisdom's ways are ways of pleasantness, Hastes joyous on his way; no hills are steep,
And all her paths are peace, unjustly dies.

Smooth is each rugged path; his little ones
But, ah! how many are thus left untaught,
How many would be left, but for the band
United to keep holy to the Lord

*“And it came to pass, on the third day in the morning,

that there were thunders and lightnings, and a thick A portion of his day, by teaching those

cloud upon the mount, and the voice of the trumpet er. Whom Jesus loved with forth-stretch'd hand to ceeding loud; so that all the people that was in the camp bless!

trembled.” Exod. xix. 16. Behold yon motley train, by two and two,

+ “And thou shalt number seven Sabbaths of years Each with a Bible 'neath its little arm,

unto thee, seven times seven years; and the space of the

seven Sabbaths of years shall be unto thee forty and nine Approach well pleased, as if they went to play,

years. Then shalt thou cause the trumpet of the jubilee The dome where simple lore is learnt unbought : to sound on the tenth day of the seventh month; in the And mark the father 'mid the sideway throng; day of atonement shall ye make the trumpet sound Well do I know him by his glistening eye, throughout all your land. And ye shall hallow the fiftieth That follows steadfastly one of the line,

year, and proclaim liberty throughout all the land unto A dark seafaring man he looks to be ;

all the inhabitants thereof: it shall be a jubilee unto you;

and ye shall return every man unto his possession, and And much it glads his boding heart to think,

ye shall return every man unto his family.” Lev, xxv. That when once more he sails the valley'd deep, 8-10.

1

Sport as they go, while oft the mother chides No dawn is ever spread, whose native vale
The lingering step, lured by the way-side flowers : Presented to his closed eyes a blank,
At length the hill, from which a farewell look, Deplores its distance now. There well he knew
And still another parting look, he cast

Each object, though unseen; there could he wend On his paternal vale, appears in view :

His way, guideless, through wilds and mazy woods ; The summit gain'd, throbs hard his heart with joy Each aged tree, spared when the forest fell, And sorrow blent, to see that vale once more; Was his familiar friend, from the smooth birch, Instant his eager eye darts to the roof

With rind of silken touch, to the rough elm : Where first he saw the light ; his youngest born The three gray stones that mark'd where heroes lay He lifts, and, pointing to the much-loved spot, Mourn'd by the harp, mourn'd by the melting voice Says" There thy fathers lived, and there they Of Cona, oft his resting-place had been; sleep.”

Oft had they told him that his home was near: Onward he wends ; near and more near he draws: The tinkle of the rill, the murmuring How sweet the tinkle of the palm-bower'd brook! So gentle of the brook, the torrent's rush, The sunbeam slanting through the cedar grove The cataract's din, the ocean's distant roar, How lovely, and how mild! But lovelier still The echo's answer to his foot or voice, The welcome in the eye of ancient friends, All spoke a language which he understood, Scarce known at first ! and dear the fig-tree shade All warn’d him of his way. But most he feels, Neath which on Sabbath eve his father told* Upon the hallow'd morn, the saddening change : Of Israel from the house of bondage freed, No more he hears the gladsome village bell Led through the desert to the promised land ; Ring the bless'd summons to the house of God : With eager arms the aged stem he clasps,

And for the voice of psalms, loud, solemn, grand, And with his tears the furrow'd bark bedews: That cheer'd his darkling path, as with slow step And still, at midnight hour, he thinks he hears And feeble, he toild up the spire-topt hill,The blissful sound that brake the bondman's chains, A few faint notes ascend among the trees. The glorious peal of freedom and of joy!

What though the cluster'd vine there hardly Did ever law of man a power like this

tempts Display? power marvellous as merciful,

The traveller's hand; though birds of dazzling plume Which, though in other ordinances still

Perch on the loaded boughs ;-"Give me thy woods, Most plainly seen, is yet but little mark'd (Exclaims the banish'd man,) thy barren woods, For what it truly is,-a miracle !

Poor Scotland! Sweeter there the reddening haw, Stupendous, ever new, perform'd at once

The sloe, or rowan's* bitter bunch, than here In every region,-yea, on every sea

The purple grape ; dearer the redbreast's note, Which Europe's navies plough ;-yes, in all lands That mourns the fading year in Scotia’s vales, From pole to pole, or civilized to rude,

Than Philomel's, where spring is ever new; People there are, to whom the Sabbath morn More dear to me the redbreast's sober suit, Dawns, shedding dews into their drooping hearts :

So like a wither'd leaflet, than the glare Yes, far beyond the high-heaved western wave,

Of gaudy wings, that make the iris dim." Amid Columbia's wildernesses vast,

Nor is regret exclusive to the old : The words which God in thunder from the mount The boy, whose birth was midway o'er the main, Of Sinai spake, are heard, and are obey'd.

A ship his cradle, by the billows rock'd, Thy children, Scotia, in the desert land,

“ The nursling of the storm,”-although he claims Driven from their homes by fell monopoly,

No native land, yet does he wistful hear Keep holy to the Lord the seventh day.

Of some far distant country still call'd home, Assembled under loftiest canopy

Where lambs of whitest fleece sport on the hills ; Of trees primeval, soon to be laid low

Where gold-speck'd fishes wanton in the streams: They sing, By Babel's streams we sat and wept. Where little birds, when snow-flakes dim the air,

What strong mysterious links enchain the heart Light on the floor, and peck the table crumbs, To regions where the morn of life is spent! And with their singing cheer the winter day. In foreign lands, though happier be the clime,

But what the loss of country to the woes Though round our board smile all the friends we of banishment and solitude combined ! love,

0! my heart bleeds to think there now may live The face of nature wears a stranger's look.

One hapless man, the remnant of a wreck, Yea, though the valley which we loved be swept

Cast on some desert island of that main Of its inhabitants, none left behind,

Immense, which stretches from the Cochin shore Not e'en the poor blind man who sought his bread To Acapulco. Motionless he sits, From door to door, still, still there is a want;

As is the rock his seat, gazing whole days, Yes, even he, round whom a night that knows With wandering eye, o'er all the watery waste ;

Now striving to believe the albatross *" And these words which I command thee this day A sail appearing on the horizon's verge; shall be in thine heart: And thou shalt teach them dili- Now vowing ne'er to cherish other hope gently unto thy children, and shalt talk of them when Than hope of death. . Thus pass his weary hours, thou sittest in thy house, and when thou walkest by the Till welcome evening warn him that 'tis time way, and when thou liest down, and when thou risest up. Upon the shell-notch'd calendar to mark Thou shall say unto thy son, We were Pharaoh's bondmen in Egypt; and the Lord brought us out of Egypt with a mighty hand.” Deut. vi. 6,7. 21.

* Mountain ash.

Another day, another dreary day,

Breathless, the man forlorn listens, and thinks
Changeless ;-for, in these regions of the sun, It is a dream. Fuller the voices swell.
The wholesome law that dooms mankind to toil, He looks, and starts to see, moving along,
Bestowing grateful interchange of rest

A fiery wave,* (so seems it,) crescent formid,
And labour, is annull’d; for there the trees, Approaching to the land: straightway he sees
Adorn'd at once with bud, and flower, and fruit, A towering whiteness ; 'tis the heaven-fill'd sails
Drop, as the breezes blow, a shower of bread That waft the mission'd men, who have renounced
And blossoms on the ground. But yet by him, Their homes, their country, nay, almost the world,
The hermit of the deep, not unobserved

Bearing glad tidings to the farthest isles The Sabbath passes. 'Tis his great delight. Of ocean, that the dead shall rise again. Each seventh eve he marks the farewell ray, Forward the gleam-girt castle coastwise glides ; And loves, and sighs to think,—that setting sun It seems as it would pass away. To cry Is now impurpling Scotland's mountain tops, The wretched man in vain attempts, in vain, Or, higher risen, slants athwart her vales,

Powerless his voice as in a fearful dream: Tinting with yellow light the quivering throat Not so his hand: he strikes the flint,-a blaze Of day-spring lark, while woodland birds below Mounts from the ready heap of wither'd leaves : Chant in the dewy shade. Thus all night long The music ceases, accents harsh succeed, He watches, while the rising moon describes Harsh, but most grateful: downward drop the The progress of the day in happier lands.

sails; And now he almost fancies that he hears

Ingulfid the anchor sinks; the boat is launch’d; The chiming from his native village church; But cautious lies aloof till morning dawn: And now he sings, and fondly hopes the strain O then the transport of the man unused May be the same that sweet ascends at home To other human voice besides his own,In congregation full,-where, not without a tear His native tongue to hear! he breathes at home, They are remember'd who in ships behold Though earth's diameter is interposed. The wonders of the deep:* he sees the hand, Of perils of the sea he has no dread, The widow'd hand, that veils the eye suisused; Full well assured the mission'a bark is safe, He sees his orphan'd boy look up, and strive Held in the hollow of th’ Almighty's hand. The widow'd heart to soothe. His spirit leans (And signal thy deliverances have been On God. Nor does he leave his weekly vigil Of these thy messengers of peace and joy.) Though tempests ride o'er welkin-lashing waves From storms that loudly threaten to unfix On winds of cloudless wing it though lightnings Islands rock-rooted in the ocean's bed, burst

Thou dost deliver them,-and from the calm, So vivid, that the stars are hid and seen

More dreadful than the storm, when motionless In awful alternation : Calm he views

Upon the purple deep the vessel lies The far exploding firmament, and dares

For days, for nights, illumed by phosphor lamps; To hope-one bolt in mercy is reserved

When sea-birds seem in nests of flame to float For his release: and yet he is resign'd

When backward starts the boldest mariner
To live; because full well he is assured,

To see, while o'er the side he leans, his face
Thy hand does lead him, thy right hand upholds. As if deep tinged with blood.-
And thy right hand does lead him. Lo! at last,

Let worldly men One sacred eve, he hears, faint from the deep, The cause and combatants contemptuous scorn, Music remote, swelling at intervals,

And call fanatics them who hazard health
As if th’imbodied spirit of such sounds

And life in testifying of the truth,
Came slowly floating on the shoreward wave: Who joy and glory in the cross of Christ!
The cadence well he knows,-a hymn of old, What were the Galilean fishermen
Where sweetly is rehearsed the lowly state But messengers, commission'd to announce
Of Jesus, when his birth was first announced, The resurrection, and the life to come!
In midnight music, by an angel choir,

They too, though clothed with power of mighty To Bethlehem's shepherds, s as they watch'd their works flocks.

Miraculous, were oft received with scorn;

Oft did their words fall powerless, though enforced *"They that go down to the sea in ships, that do busi. By deeds that mark'd Omnipotence their friend: ness in great waters; these see the works of the Lord, But, when their efforts faild, unweariedly and his wonders in the deep." Psal. cvii.

+ In the tropical regions, ihe sky during storms is often They onward went, rejoicing in their course. without a cloud.

"If I take the wings of the morning, and dwell in the uttermost parts of the sea, even there shall thy hand lead the babe wrapped in swaddling clothes, lying in a manger. me, and thy right hand shall hold me." Psal. cxxxix. And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of

§ “And there were in the same country shepherds the heavenly host, praising God, and saying, Glory to abiding in the field, keeping watch over their flocks by God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward night. And lo! the angel of the Lord came upon them, men." Luke ii. 8-14. and the glory of the Lord shone round about them, and * "In some seas, as particularly about the coast of they were sore afraid. And the angel said unto them, Malabar, as a ship floats along, it seems during the night Fear not, for, behold! I bring you good tidings of great to be surrounded with fire, and to leave a long track of joy, which shall be to all people. For unto you is born light behind it. Whenever the sea is gently agitated, it this day in the city of David, a Saviour, who is Christ the seems converted into little stars: every drop as it breaks Lord. And this shall be a sign unto you, Ye shall find | emils light, like bodies electrified in the dark."-Dancin.

Like helianthus,* borne on downy wings

Triumphantly sails down th’ensanguined stream, To distant realms, they frequent fell on soils On corses throned, and crown'd with shiver'd boughs, Barren and thankless; yet oft-times they saw That erst hung imaged in the crystal tide.* Their labours crown'd with fruit a hundred fold, And what the harvest of these bloody fields ? Saw the new converts testify their faith

A double weight of fetters to the slave, By works of love,-the slave set free, the sick And chains on arms that wielded freedom's sword. Attended, prisoners visited, the poor

Spirit of Tell! and art thou doom'd to see Received as brothers at the rich man's board. Thy mountains, that confess'd no other chains Alas! how different now the deeds of men

Than what the wintry elements had forged, Nursed in the faith of Christ -The free made slaves! | Thy vales, where freedom, and her stern compeer, Torn from their country, borne across the deep, Proud, virtuous poverty, their noble state Enchain'd, endungeon'd, forced by stripes to live, Maintain'd, amid surrounding threats of wealth, Doom'd to behold their wives, their little ones, Of superstition, and tyrannic swayTremble beneath the white man's fiend-like frown! Spirit of Tell! and art thou doom'd to see Yet e'en to scenes like these the Sabbath brings That land subdued by slavery's basest slaves ; Alleviation of th' enormous wo:

By men, whose lips pronounce the sacred name, The oft reiterated stroke is still;

Of liberty, then kiss the despot's foot ? The clotted scourge hangs hardening in the shrouds. Helvetia ! hadst thou to thyself been true, But see, the demon man, whose trade is blood, Thy dying sons had triumph'd as they fell: With dauntless front convene his ruffian crew But 'twas a glorious effort, though in vain. To hear the sacred service read. Accursed, Aloft thy genius, ʼmid the sweeping clouds, The wretch's bile-tinged lips profane the word The flag of freedom spread; bright in the storm Of God: Accursed, he ventures to pronounce The streaming meteor waved, and far it gleam'd : The decalogue, nor falters at that law

But, ah! 'twas transient, as the Iris' arch, Wherein 'tis written, Thou shalt do no murder : Glanced from leviathan's ascending shower, Perhaps, while yet the words are on his lips, When 'mid the mountain waves heaving his head. He hears a dying mother's parting groan ;

Already had the friendly-seeming foe He hears her orphan'd child, with lisping plaint, Possess'd the snow piled ramparts of the land : Attempt to rouse her from the sleep of death. Down like an avalanche they rolld, they crush'd

O England! England! wash thy purpled hands The temple, palace, cottage, every work Of this foul sin, and never dip them more

Of art and nature, in one common ruin. In guilt so damnable! then lift them up

The dreadful crash is o'er, and peace ensues, In supplication to that God, whose name

The peace of desolation, gloomy, still: Is Mercy; then thou mayest, without the risk Each day is hush'd as Sabbath; but, alas ! Of drawing vengeance from the surcharged clouds, No Sabbath service glads the seventh day! Implore protection to thy menaced shores ; No more the happy villagers are seen Then God will blast the tyrant's arm that grasps Winding adown the rock-hewn paths, that wont The thunderbolt of ruin o'er thy head :

To lead their footsteps to the house of prayer; Then will he turn the wolvish race to prey But, far apart, assembled in the depth Upon each other; then will he arrest

Of solitudes, perhaps a little group The lava torrent, causing it regorge

Of aged men, and orphan boys, and maids, Back to its source with fiery desolation.

Bereft, list to the breathings of the holy man, Of all the murderous trades by mortals plied, Who spurns an oath of fealty to the power 'Tis war alone that never violates

Of rulers chosen by a tyrant's nod. The hallow'd day by simulate respect,

No more, as dies the rustling of the breeze, By hypocritic rest: No, no, the work proceeds. Is heard the distant vesper hymn; no more From sacred pinnacles are hung the flags,

At gloamin hour, the plaintive strain, that links That give the sign to slip the leash from slaughter. His country to the Switzer's heart, delights The bells, whose knoll a holy calmness pour'd The loosening team; or if some shepherd boy Into the good man's breast,—whose sound solaced Attempt the strain, his voice soon faltering stops ; The sick, the poor, the old-perversion dire He feels his country now a foreign land. Pealing with sulphurous tongues, speak death O Scotland! canst thou for a moment brook fraught words:

The mere imagination, that a fate From morn to eve destruction revels frenzied, Like this should e'er be thine! that o'er these hills Till at the hour when peaceful vesper-chimes And dear-bought vales, whence Wallace, Douglas, Were wont to soothe the ear, the trumpet sounds

Bruce, Pursuit and fight altern; and for the song Repell’d proud Edward's multitudinous hordes, of larks, descending to their grass-bowerd homes, A Gallic foe, that abject race, should rule ! The croak of flesh-gorged ravens, as they slake No, no! let never hostile standard touch Their thirst in hoof-prints fill'd with gore, disturbs Thy shore: rush, rush into the dashing brine, The stupor of the dying man; while death And crest each wave with steel; and should the

stamp • Sunflower. “The seeds of many plants of this kind are furnished with a plume, by which admirable mechanism they are disseminated far from their parent stem.” * After a heavy cannonade, the shivered branches of -Darwin.

trees, and the corpses of the killed, are seen floating + Church steeples are frequently used as signal posts. Logether down the rivers.

Of slavery's footstep violate the strand,
Let not the tardy tide efface the mark;
Sweep off the stigma with a sea of blood !

Thrice happy he, who, far in Scottish glen
Retired, (yet ready at his country's call,)
Has left the restless emmet-hill of man:
He never longs to read the saddening tale
Of endless wars; and seldom does he hear
The tale of wo; and ere it reaches him,
Rumour, so loud when new, has died away
Into a whisper, on the memory borne
Of casual traveller:-as on the deep,
Far from the sight of land, when all around
Is waveless calm, the sudden tremulous swell,
That gently heaves the ship, tells, as it rolls,
Of earthquakes dread, and cities overthrown.

O Scotland! much I love thy tranquil dales :
But most on Sabbath eve, when low the sun
Slants through the upland copse, 'tis my delight,
Wandering, and stopping oft, to hear the song
Of kindred praise arise from humble roofs;
Or, when the simple service ends, to hear
The lifted latch, and mark the gray-hair’d man,
The father and the priest, walk forth alone
Into his garden-plat, or little field,
To commune with his God in secret prayer,
To bless the Lord, that in his downward years
His children are about him: Sweet, meantime,
The thrush, that sings upon the aged thorn,
Brings to his view the days of youthful years,
When that same aged thorn was but a bush.
Nor is the contrast between youth and age
To him a painful thought; he joys to think
His journey near a close,-heaven is his home.
More happy far that man, though bowed down,
Though feeble be his gait, and dim his eye,
Than they, the favourites of youth and health,
Of riches, and of fame, who have renounced
The glorious promise of the life to come,
Clinging to death.

Or mark that female face, The faded picture of its former self,The garments coarse, but clean ;-frequent at church I've noted such a one, feeble and pale, Yet standing, with a look of mild content, Till beckond by some kindly hand to sit. She had seen better days; there was a time Her hands could earn her bread, and freely give To those who were in want; but now old age, And lingering disease, have made her helpless. Yet she is happy, ay, and she is wise, (Philosophers may sneer, and pedants frown) Although her Bible is her only book; And she is rich, although her only wealth Is recollection of a well-spent life Is expectation of the life to come. Examine here, explore the narrow path In which she walks ; look not for virtuous deeds In history's arena, where the prize Of fame, or power, prompts to heroic acts. Peruse the lives themselves of men obscure : There charity, that robs itself to give; There fortitude in sickness, nursed by want; There courage, that expects no tongue to praise; There virtue lurks, like purest gold deep hid, With no alloy of selfish motive mix'd.

The poor man's boon, that stints him of his bread,
Is prized more highly in the sight of Him
Who sees the heart, than golden gifts from hands
That scarce can know their countless treasures

less :*
Yea, the deep sigh that heaves the poor man's breast
To see distress, and feel his willing arm
Palsied by penury, ascends to heaven;
While ponderous bequests of lands and goods
Ne'er rise above their earthly origin.
And should all bounty that is clothed with

power
Be deem'd unworthy ?-Far be such a thought!
E’en when the rich bestow, there are sure tests
Of genuine charity ;-Yes, yes, let wealth
Give other alms than silver or than gold, -
Time, trouble, toil, attendance, watchfulness,
Exposure to disease ;-yes, let the rich
Be often seen beneath the sick man's roof;
Or cheering, with inquiries from the heart,
And hopes of health, the melancholy range
Of couches in the public wards of wo:
There let them often bless the sick man's bed,
With kind assurances that all is well
At home, that plenty smiles upon the board,

-
The while the hand that earn'd the frugal meal
Can hardly raise itself in sign of thanks.
Above all duties, let the rich man search
Into the cause he knoweth not, nor spurn
The suppliant wretch as guilty of a crime.
Ye, bless'd with wealth! (another name for

power Of doing good,) O would but devote A little portion of each seventh day To acts of justice to your fellow men ! The house of mourning silently invites: Shun not the crowded alley ; prompt descend Into the half-sunk cell, darksome and damp; Nor seem impatient to be gone: Inquire, Console, instruct, encourage, soothe, assist; Read, pray, and sing a new song to the Lord; Make tears of joy down grief-worn furrows flow.

O health ! thou sun of life, without whose beam The fairest scenes of nature seem involved In darkness, shine upon my dreary path Once more ; or, with thy faintest dawn, give hope, That I may yet enjoy thy vital ray! Though transient be the hope, 'twill be most

sweet, Like midnight music, stealing on the ear, Then gliding past, and dying slow away. Music ! thou soothing power, thy charm is proved Most vividly when clouds o’ercast the soul; So light its loveliest effect displays In lowering skies, when through the murky rack A slanting sunbeam shoots, and instant limns

ye

*“And Jesus sat over against the treasury, and beheld how the people cast money into the treasury: and many that were rich cast in much. And there came a certain poor widow, and she threw in two mites, which make a farthing. And he called unto him his disciples, and saith unto them, Verily, I say unto you, that this poor widow hath cast more in than all they which have cast into the treasury: For all they did cast in of their abun. dance, but she of her want did cast in all that she had, even all her living." Mark xii. 41–44.

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