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Those mothers' hymns “my soul" would join,
My Lord “ to magnify," with mine;
Praise, loud as theirs, shall tune my voice,
“ His handmaid he hath bid rejoice."*
His gift again to Him I give,
Who in Death's Shadowt bade me live;
Though wintry winds around me sweep,
A “Dedication feast” I keep. I
When on his brow the holy sign
Is press'd, to seal this lamb as thine,
Oh, Saviour! Shepherd ! ratify
Th’ adoption blessings from on high!
Blessings above, the same beneath-
In chequer'd life-in pains of death!
Conquest o'er sin, its sting, its grave,
Thy glory, when Thou com’st to save.
A loftier height upon that hill
I see, a purer water still
Than sparkles in baptismal font-
To those, through these, my soul would mount.
Blame not my haste! life's speeding on,
Each step a passage to the tomb,
And friends are fading like the leaves,
While every blast of some bereaves.
Still, dear ones on their boughs remain
To cheer the homestead woodland scene,
And, while in autumn suns they linger yet,
First of a new-born race, this early bud we set. I
Nov. 25th, 1849.
H. V. T.
Luke i. 46, 48. + Ps. cxvi. 9. John x. 22.
“He, ere one flowery season fades and dies,
Designs the blooming wonders of the next.”---Cowper'.
THE MANGER-PRINCE. YE golden harp'd angels, oh, sing the strange story Of the Child of the manger-his shame, and his glory; Make your azure-laid pavement of amethyst ring With the tale of the love and the woe of your King! The seven-hilled despot had scorned, had he known The mean manger-birth that was shaking his throne; Well may tremble his idols of lewdness and crime, For their glass runneth fast in the Temple of Time. 'Twas not heeded or known by the great ones on earth, 'Twas not known in the marble-roofed temples of mirth; Nor witted proud Rome of that swift coming day, Of His birth, who should stretch to carth’s confines his sway. But the shepherd-kings knew—they who dwelt where the tide Of mighty Euphrates rolls headlong and wide ; They girded their loins, and obedient they sped, To the spot where the strange-flaming meteor-star led. Not the great, or the noble, or mighty of earth, Shall know of the Manger King's wonderful birth; But the harps of bright angels for ever shall sing, Of the triumph, the love, and the woe of our King!
What is it scorns both Time and Space,
And from their everlasting base
Can hurl huge mountains down?
Or, this life's sorrows counting not,
Prefers a poora beggar's lot,
For an immortal crown?
When circle round the powers of harm,
Oh, what preserves an holy calm
In danger's threatening hour?
What scoffs at pain, what conquers sin,
And heaven's hope-lumin'd land can win ?
'Tis Faith's Almighty power!
A Lamp, of radiance ever bright,
A Pearl, of value infinite,
A Book, to make the simple wise,
A Counsel, kings should not despise,
A vast Enigma for the sage,
A Comforter for hoary age,
A Record of events gone by,
Yet, a most wondrous Prophecy.
It tells us of a future doom,
And bids us flee the wrath to come;
Or points the Christian's dying eyes,
To glorious mansions in the skies.
The Spirit's sharp and two-edged sword,
The Cov'nant of th’ Eternal word
Oft has it made the darkness light,
And “ kept the Christian's armour bright.”
A Compass, guiding o'er life's sea,
An Album of sweet poetry;
An Arbiter of joy or woe,
As each may be its friend or foe.
As Rain, and Dew, whose gentle show'rs,
Dispense new life to human flow'rs;
A Sign-post, on the world's wide road,
To point to heav'n, to bliss, to God.
YE who would save your features florid,
Lithe limbs, bright eyes, unwrinkled forehead,
From age's devastation horrid,
Adopt this plan;-
'Twill make, in climate cold or torrid,
A hale old man.
Avoid in youth luxurious diet,
Restrain the passions' lawless riot,
Devoted to domestic quiet,
Be wisely gay:
So shall ye, spite of age's fiat,
Seek not in mammon's worship pleasure,
But find your richest, dearest treasure,
In books, friends, science, polished leisure;
The mind, not sense,
Make the sole scale by which ye measure
This is the solace, this the science,
Life's purest, sweetest, best appliance,
That disappoints not man’s reliance,
Whate'er his state;
But challenges, with calm defiance,
Time, fortune, fate.
Utica Asylum Souvenir.