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54
SONG.
Say, does calm Contentment dwell,
In palace rich, or lowly cell?
Fix'd to no peculiar spot,
Gilded rooms, or simple cot,
She will grace the courtly scene,
Or love to haunt the village green:
Where Virtue dwells, Content must be,
And with her Felicity.
HYMN.
Oh! God of mercy, let my lyre
Speak with energetic fire;
And teach my infant tongue to raise,
The grateful animated lays.
While musing at thy hallow'd shrine,
I listen to thy word divine;
I bless the page of genuine truth;
Oh! may its precepts guide my youth.
To Thee, thou Good Supreme! I bend,
Do thou the humble prayer attend.
F. D. B. aged 12.
