What folly, then, to seek for good on earth,
Where only transitory joys have birth!
'Tis reason's dictate, that we only prize
The bliss, that in RELIGION's empire lies.
For soon the brilliant scenes of life shall fade, And our gay visions merge in Death's dark shade; When all we fondly prized, and held most dear, Will cease to charm, as we the tomb draw near. Then, what we here possessed, or here enjoyed, What pleased our fancy, or our senses cloyed, Will nought avail :-then, then we learn to prize The bliss, that in RELIGION's empire lies!
And then shall HE, whose being's brightest ray Shines from the bourn of his terrestial way; Whose days of sickness, and whose nights of pain, Form one unbroken, one continuous chain; Whose languid frame no genial current warmed, Whose ear health's grateful accents never charmed; Who sees on earth no respite from his woe, And looks in vain for happiness below; Who finds no earthly treasures he can prize,
Rejoice in hope of REST, in yonder glorious skies!
WRITTEN BY A FATHER IN HIS DAUGHTER'S ALBUM.8
My daughter asks her father to insert
A Dedication in her Album. Well,
Here he will write a father's best advice:
And when the heart which dictates, and the hand
Which writes it, shall be cold and motionless
In death's embrace-oh! may my daughter's heart
Receive instruction, as she casts her eye
O'er this instructive page. For, doubtless, oft
Her eye will scan these lines.
The image of your father, and the love
The holy love-the ever-during flame,
That warmed his heart, when writing for his child!
Oh! call to mind his prayers-his anxious fears-
His deep solicitude-his cherished hopes-
His soul-warmed wishes-in his child's behalf!
And what his wishes are, full well you know. Oft have you heard them uttered: Yet again
I here record-I wish your soul's best good!
And on this wish, I found my ardent hope,
That such may be the tenor of your life,
As to afford a parent's heart that joy-
That greatest of all joys-" to see his child
Walking in truth.” *
Take, therefore, for your guide
God's holy volume; make that sacred Book
Your counsellor. Its precepts " read, mark, learn,
And inwardly digest," love, and obey.
Ask you for an exemplar?-Look to CHRIST!
In that bless'd Book his character is drawn ;
His self-denying, painful life portrayed,
And still more painful death! Who reads, must love
His character, his holy, spotless life.
And as you read the more, still more your love
Is drawn, in holy exercise, to rest
On this celestial Personage; this CHRIST,
The anointed One: this Saviour, JESUS; Lamb,
The Lamb of God; IMMANUEL, God with us.
Be this your pattern: follow where he leads:
His life-unsullied, pure, impeccable-
So far as imitable, imitate.
Devote yourself to him; and by his grace
Your death shall win the crown of endless life.
Thus, to the MIND I dedicate your book;
To mind, heaven's noblest gift, distinctive trait
Of man; to Virtue, to Religion, Sense,
And chastened sentiment. Whate'er these claim,
What these require, what these approve,-insert.
But ne'er pervert this mental register,
Nor desecrate its page. No thought impure,
No sentence void of sense, no sentiment
Unworthy of the MIND, or which can raise
A blush upon the cheek of modesty,
Or give offence in aught, should enter here.
Be this your standard, then. For, those who read
Or hastily look o'er an Album's page,
Consider it, with strict propriety,
The approved index of its owner's mind.
Let yours, then, indicate a mind endowed
With richest lore; bright with Castalian dew;
Enriched with classick science; and illumed
With the pervasive rays of literature;
And what is richer still, all price above-
Let pure religion, vital piety,
As a presiding genius, sit enthroned;
That her health-breathing spirit may appear,
As with a zone, to invest your mental stores,
To enhance their value, and to sanctify
All the acquirements gained by human art :-
For know, my daughter, that RELIGION's ways
Are pleasantness, and all her paths are peace.
The following pathetick poem was written by this beloved daughter, and left in my cabinet, when she was going to reside abroad.
ON LEAVING THE PATERNAL MANSION.
FATHER! now again I leave thee,
In the stranger's land to dwell;
Thou, who never didst deceive me,
Oh, receive this sad Farewell!
MOTHER! as thine eye is dwelling
On each child thou lov'st so well;
Think of her, whose heart is swelling,
As she breathes this fond Farewell!
SISTERS! as soft eve is stealing,
Sing the hymn we loved so well;
And those tones, a grief revealing,
Will for me respond Farewell !
BROTHERS! whose young, sweet caressing,
On my heart has laid a spell;
Think, thy sister's heart-felt blessing
Mingles with this last Farewell!
Father! Mother! though we're parting,
And the tear-drops warm are starting;—
Sisters! Brothers! if no more
Meet we on this earthly shore;
May we all with Jesus dwell,
Never more to say FAREWELL !
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