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At Pity's call, at Sorrow's sigh,
Pour forth her heaven-taught sympathy,
Her image in its grace restore,
Print on thy brow the smile she wore,
Bear, as she bore, a Saviour's name,—
—What higher wish can Friendship frame?
Intemperance.
I saw a little girl
With half uncover'd form,
And wonder'd why she wander'd thus,
Amid the winter storm;
They said her mother drank
What took her sense away,
And so she let her children go
Hungry and cold all day.
I saw them lead a man
To prison for his crime,
