What lines of difference, traced in bold relief,
Mark HUMAN LIFE-commingling joy and grief!
What vast gradations, from the Imperial throne,
To the poor captive, doomed to toil and groan!
Yet, what lorn vassal, destined here to toil,
Would, with the proudest lordling of the soil,
Exchange condition ?--Each, to self confined,
To the o'er-ruling HAND of ALL is blind:
And all, with most harmonious accord,
Repine at fate, and "fret against the Lord."

Were human minds endued with power to scan The matchless wisdom of the Almighty plan; Trace each effect to its unerring Cause, And wisely read JEHOVAH's equal laws;— Man, then, might bow to His supreme behest, Trust in His grace, and on His mercy rest.

Nor does he, darkling, rove this nether sphere :A lamp to guide-a light of Heaven is here. Religion's light, the glorious Gospel's ray, Illumes his path, and makes his darkness day: God's holy Book expands before his eyes; Man, if he will, may seize the heavenly prize!

But what can Faith, devoid of Works, avail ?
A shoreless sea--a barque without a sail !—
What is profession but a fleeting breath,
If practice bind us in the thrall of death?

Profession holds the laws of Christ most dear;
Should not our practice, then, those laws revere ?

-But see how deeds of hell deform the earth; How vice and lawless passions spring to birth! Here groans the slave-oppression wields his rod, And "Nature wrong'd, appeals to Nature's God!” Fair LIBERTY! is this thy boasted land?Where sons of Afric groan beneath the hand Of ruthless tyrants; who, with CHRISTIAN name, Traffick in human flesh, nor feel the shame ; And down to earth in hopeless misery bind Each noble effort of the immortal mind!

WAR's fiendlike spirit still stalks o'er our land, And spreads destruction with his hellish brand; Sports with the dearest ties of human life, And whelms the world in misery and strife. Reckless of widows' groans, of orphans' tears, His blood-stained banner still the fiend uprears; His iron car sweeps o'er the embattled plain, While VIRTUE mourns, and MERCY pleads in vain!

O then, bless'd Spirit! source of Love divine, On erring man in pure effulgence shine; Illume his mind with thy celestial ray, And gild the midnight darkness of his way; Teach him to bow submissive to thy rod, And own the rightful sovereignty of God!

DEDICATION.

WRITTEN IN A YOUNG LADY'S ALBUM.

HERE, in this Book, devoted to the MIND,
Be treasured all that's rich in Wisdom, Wit,
Religion, Virtue, Sense, Morality,

And all the sweets of scientifick Lore.
Here let young Genius strew his richest flowers
Glittering CASTALIAN dews. Let Fancy wake
Her liveliest note, and charm the ravished ear;
Nor ev'n, if reason guide her heaven-ward flight,
Repress Imagination's daring wing.

Let all conspire to furnish ample store Of intellectual food; on which the SOUL, Conscious of her high birth and destiny, May feast, fearless of ill; and sure to find A banquet fitted for a guest from Heaven.

The heaven-aspiring Soul no joy can know So pure, as holding converse with her God.

Then let the votive strain, the matin lay
And vesper anthem, from the heart ascend,
In hymnick praise to all Creation's King!
Here, oft record thy gratitude and love;
Thy obligations own; thy sins confess;
Dependance recognise; thy faith inscribe;
Thy vows renew; and dedicate thy life

To Him, from whom each perfect gift descends.
So shall thy earthly pilgrimage be blest

With home-felt peace, which nought on earth can mar;
And Hope, that steadfast anchor of the soul,
Shall raise thy mind above the fear of death,
Illume the midnight darkness of the tomb,
And yield a foretaste of supernal joys.

TRIBUTE OF FRIENDSHIP.

TO THE RECTOR OF ST. JAMES'; NEW LONDON, CONNECTICUT. ON THE ANNIVERSARY OF HIS BIRTH.

SWEET is the memory of departed hours,
On whose brief date the ray of Friendship shone;
Long would I muse in retrospection's bowers,
Of joys to dream, and sorrows, once my own.
Mine once were joys: once parents smiled on me;
On me fraternal love serenely beamed:

Now, left bereaved of kindred, still I see

Bland Friendship's ray, which erst benignly gleamed,
Like BETHLEHEM's Star,-from gloom my heart to free,
And gain a meed, which Stoicks never dreamed.— :
Kindness, disinterested, claims return :—
Shall not the gratitude, to Friendship due,
Like holy incense in my bosom burn,
Each year as on this day I think of you—
Eternal as the spheres their stated course pursue.

Nov. 9, 1817.

LORENZO.