CARELESS MEN.

If we the scenes of life could justly scan,
We're twice a child, and only once a man.
And yet some human forms, which men we call,
If rightly judg'd, are scarcely men at all.
Compos'd, like other men, of flesh and bones,
Yet nothing better still than idle drones ;
Indolent, careless, quite averse to learning,
And between good and evil scarce discerning,
Seeming content, nor for advancement try;
And so they spend their lives-and so did I.

NoT from the sacred will of Heav'n,

By no vain superstition driven,

Refuse the bitter cup;

Content beneath his smile or frown,

Since He whose hand hath cast me down,

Again can lift me up.

As life is uncertain, we all should take care,
By improving our moments, for death to prepare.
If now we don't hunger and thirst after Heav'n,
'Twill be almost too late at the hour of eleven.

MAN should be humble, prudent, just,
Honest and faithful to his trust,

Vigilant, watchful of his charge,

And strive these virtues to enlarge.

How can men think themselves secure,
When they have not a moment sure?

Man's life is never at a stay,

For while he lives, he fades away.

SOME foolish mortals ev'ry hour,
Call their own weakness Satan's pow'r,
For all their vices, guilt, and shame,
Satan must always bear the blame.

THAT every one must die, we all allow,

But none can tell us when, or where, or how.
Our sight thus limited, does plainly shew,
What Heav'n conceals we never ought to know.
"Tis therefore wise no clearer view to give.
If all were seen, it would be death to live.

AH! what a world! how often do we change!
How diff'rently the human passions range!
A time to labour, and a time to play;
A time to gather stones and cast away;
A time to borrow, and a time to lend;
A time t'accumulate, and a time to spend ;

A time for rest, and times for joy and sorrow:
Thousands who laugh to day will weep to-morrow.

On let me not myself deceive!

Time lost, I never can retrieve!

DISTRESS.

WITH pitchy clouds by blust'ring winds o'erspread,

The azure sky withheld its wonted light; Slow through a rugged path of late I stray'd, A weary trav❜ler in the gloom of night.

Contemplative, and musing on my fate,

Loaded with grief and bursting out in tears,
I call'd to mind, how much my present state
Appear'd contrasted to my former years.

Alas! said I, what horrid scenes of woe,
In close succession have beset me round,
What sad misfortunes now I undergo,

And each affliction gives a deeper wound.

Forsaken by my friends of ev'ry kind,

Lonely I pass my sullen hours away,

No future prospect to relieve my mind,

Or cheer my bosom with one glimmʼring ray.

Where now your friendship? Where the fond embrace? Where all the kindness you profess'd to show?

Why such a sudden change on ev'ry face?

And ev'ry former friend become a foe?

P

By friends neglected, and by foes oppress'd,

A thousand ills disturb my troubled mind, Still struggling onward, hopeless and distress'd, I nothing now but disappointment find.

Heav'n grant me fortitude and patience, here,
While thus involv'd, my duty to perform,

That I, at last, with all these dangers near,

May stem the tide, and weather out the storm!

THE man who keeps his conscience clear,
From other men has nought to fear.

This is my case—nor smile nor frown,
While I am right, shall cast me down.
Nor will I fret my soul with grief
But trust in God to send relief.