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LIFE AND DEATH.

There is a life of guilty joy,
A transient dream-a fitful toy,
And, for its end, the dread alloy
Of endless woe is given :-
There is a Life of soothing flow,
Of hope on high and peace below,
Of blameless mirth, and cheerful glow,
That knows no end-but HEAVEN !

Hast thou not tried the earthly?-say

Are not its pleasures for a day?

Its splendours vanishing away?

O try the Lord and prove him! He vails his face, but not in wrath; No eye hath seen the glorious path,

The things thy Heavenly Father hath
Prepared for those that love him!

Let earthly things arrest thee not :-
There is above a brighter spot,

And power to gain that blessed lot
To thee is freely given.

Seek not on earth thy Paradise ;—

Its hopes are vain-its friendship flies;

And O! for thee prepared there is

A Paradise in Heaven!

CHRISTIANUS LAICUS.

TO A LADY,

With King's "Hymns to the Divine Being."

This little book of hymns divine,

Where truth and sweetness blend,

To blooming Anna I consign,

The present of a friend.

And may some beam of heavenly light

Illuminate the theme,

And in her youthful breast excite

Pure love to the Supreme.

To guide thy steps in wisdom's ways,
With admonitions kind,

I seek thy nobler powers to raise,

And elevate thy mind

Buoyant above the world's low cares,
And fashion's giddy rage,

From vice's fascinating snares,

To guard thy pilgrimage,

Hast thou not seen the beauteous flower

Its summer tints display?

Ah! tints within one little hour

Predestin❜d to decay!

The charms that dazzle in the face

Of Albion's fairest maid,

The hue of health, the form of grace, Too like that flower shall fade.

With scrutinizing eye survey

Gay fashion's giddy round,

And midst her wheel of mirth oh! say,

Can happiness be found?

The rout, the ball, the masquerade,

The opera and the play,

To dissipate dull time were made

And stea! the hours away.

To Zion's harmony divine,

Devote the tuneful lyre,

And let her sacred songs combine

To wake celestial fire,

And let a dying Saviours throes
Thy grateful accents raise;

(Mindful for whom he bore those woes,) In hymns of joy and praise.

Should sorrow's tempests hem thee round,

(For sorrow will assail

E'en breasts like thine, tho' gentlest found

And turn health's roses pale ;) Religion rob'd in heaven's own light

Will take an Angel's form,

Instant dispel the gather'd night,

And bear thee thro' the storm.

And when the trumpets last dread sound The Universe shall shake,

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