Which bids the humble spirit to rejoice,
Recall the wanderer from his dangerous way,
And teach returning sinners how to pray.
O'er all the land may truth divine be spread,
And ev'ry heart, by holy teachings led,
Seek higher joys than earthly things afford,
And give due glory to our risen Lord.
And may the power that sheds its heaven-born light
O'er many a dwelling in this land to-night,
Direct me still, and guard me lest I stray,
And guide the orphan on her lonely way.
A SKETCH OF LIFE.
While evening spreads her gentle shades around,
And skies with glowing lights are brilliant crown'd;
While sighing winds sing low o'er yonder plain,
And lighter music mingles with the strain;
While all above is silent, lovely, fair,
And all below is noisy mirth or care;
While some are weeping o'er afflictions sent,
And more are gay, on pleasure's schemes intent,—
Blest with sweet peace, in unpretending state,
Alone, I contemplate man's varied fate.
And skies with glowing lights are brilliant crown'd;
While sighing winds sing low o'er yonder plain,
And lighter music mingles with the strain;
While all above is silent, lovely, fair,
And all below is noisy mirth or care;
While some are weeping o'er afflictions sent,
And more are gay, on pleasure's schemes intent,—
Blest with sweet peace, in unpretending state,
Alone, I contemplate man's varied fate.
This is an hour when day withdraws her beams,
And chilling frosts arrest the summer streams;
W7hen wither'd leaves float through the mourning air.
And honest labour rests, or bends in pray'r.
Far from the throng whose lamp burns never low,[1]
The lonely mother bears her night of woe;
No quivering light may give to her fond gaze
The features of the dying; but she prays.
Oh, poverty, a wretched fate is thine!
The soul's deep sorrows with all want combine.
Is it not so? where poverty is found
The sigh of anguish ever doth resound?
And chilling frosts arrest the summer streams;
W7hen wither'd leaves float through the mourning air.
And honest labour rests, or bends in pray'r.
Far from the throng whose lamp burns never low,[1]
The lonely mother bears her night of woe;
No quivering light may give to her fond gaze
The features of the dying; but she prays.
Oh, poverty, a wretched fate is thine!
The soul's deep sorrows with all want combine.
Is it not so? where poverty is found
The sigh of anguish ever doth resound?
Behold that aged form in weakness bent;
She waits her daughter to the village sent;
She comes, but bears no life-sustaining food,—
The broken branches of the dark pine-wood
Alone are theirs! She, weeping, lights the fire,
And sees her mother by the flame expire!
She waits her daughter to the village sent;
She comes, but bears no life-sustaining food,—
The broken branches of the dark pine-wood
Alone are theirs! She, weeping, lights the fire,
And sees her mother by the flame expire!
Now tell me, ye who sport away awhile
So gaily in the world's uncertain smile,
Would life be not made richer if ye knew
Your wealth from sorrow had saved e'en a few?
Oh, sweeter far the kindness which bestows
The needful help, than all that avarice knows.
When call'd at death to leave this happy scene,
Thou wilt remember what the past hath been;
And at the judgment 'twill not be forgot,
Didst save the hungry or supply them not?
So gaily in the world's uncertain smile,
Would life be not made richer if ye knew
Your wealth from sorrow had saved e'en a few?
Oh, sweeter far the kindness which bestows
The needful help, than all that avarice knows.
When call'd at death to leave this happy scene,
Thou wilt remember what the past hath been;
And at the judgment 'twill not be forgot,
Didst save the hungry or supply them not?
The gloomy shades around the church are fled,
And softest lustre o'er the altar's shed;
There stands a maiden by a faithful lover:
They now depart, the spoken vows are over.
Gay sounds proceed from yonder lighted hall;
Soft strains of music from its casements fall;
Light feet are dancing to the rapid measure,
And ev'ry eye and ev'ry voice speaks pleasure.
And softest lustre o'er the altar's shed;
There stands a maiden by a faithful lover:
They now depart, the spoken vows are over.
Gay sounds proceed from yonder lighted hall;
Soft strains of music from its casements fall;
Light feet are dancing to the rapid measure,
And ev'ry eye and ev'ry voice speaks pleasure.
See yonder dwelling, mansion of the fair,
Where learning holds her rule supremely; there
The hours of study now give place to play,
So priz'd, so dear, when gone the quiet day.
Can any doubt that joyous tone of glee
Springs forth from hearts from care and sorrow free.
Ah! wonder not that joy's unchequer'd light
Should cause them to forget the sad to-night!
Where learning holds her rule supremely; there
The hours of study now give place to play,
So priz'd, so dear, when gone the quiet day.
Can any doubt that joyous tone of glee
Springs forth from hearts from care and sorrow free.
Ah! wonder not that joy's unchequer'd light
Should cause them to forget the sad to-night!
One would suppose this hour an hour of rest,
When ev'ry one with quiet leisure blest
Would now the spirit-longing search pursue,
The search for truth, or warmly else renew,
As evening spreads her soft, descending veil,
Their wanderings through the new historic tale.
But ah! this hour sees the weary still
With rigour all the day's long toil fulfil;
Then as the stroke of midnight dies away,
Sink on their beds too weary far to pray!
Can these be men? to live without a thought
Of Him who died for them, whose blood has bought
Their ransom? he who gave up heaven?
Can they not breathe one prayer to be forgiven?
Can they not "watch one hour"? Is lux'rous ease
A nobler theme and object far than these?
Go on and heap up riches, but you'll find
Tis vain t' enjoy them with an empty mind!
When ev'ry one with quiet leisure blest
Would now the spirit-longing search pursue,
The search for truth, or warmly else renew,
As evening spreads her soft, descending veil,
Their wanderings through the new historic tale.
But ah! this hour sees the weary still
With rigour all the day's long toil fulfil;
Then as the stroke of midnight dies away,
Sink on their beds too weary far to pray!
Can these be men? to live without a thought
Of Him who died for them, whose blood has bought
Their ransom? he who gave up heaven?
Can they not breathe one prayer to be forgiven?
Can they not "watch one hour"? Is lux'rous ease
A nobler theme and object far than these?
Go on and heap up riches, but you'll find
Tis vain t' enjoy them with an empty mind!
I cannot blame the poor for toiling on,
When day, with all its vigour, long has gone.
The honest purpose to fulfil their task,
Or gain the price necessity must ask,
May bind them to their labour by the light
That "goes not out" through all the weary night.
A blessing rests upon them, and the stain
Of sordid avarice can not remain.
Love for a wife or kindred makes it right,
And sanctifies the labour. Moral light
Beams on the sacrifice. The soul is free
To place its hopes beyond the world we see!
When day, with all its vigour, long has gone.
The honest purpose to fulfil their task,
Or gain the price necessity must ask,
May bind them to their labour by the light
That "goes not out" through all the weary night.
A blessing rests upon them, and the stain
Of sordid avarice can not remain.
Love for a wife or kindred makes it right,
And sanctifies the labour. Moral light
Beams on the sacrifice. The soul is free
To place its hopes beyond the world we see!
I will not paint scenes of a diff'rent kind,
Where sad ebriety defiles the mind;
Where every thought of God or good is lost,
And idle souls in folly's whirl are toss'd!
Where sad ebriety defiles the mind;
Where every thought of God or good is lost,
And idle souls in folly's whirl are toss'd!
But I would in this hour behold and see
If wealth and grandeur are from sorrow free;
If gold can purchase friendship, joy, or ease,
(Tis seldom riches all alone can please:
The heart, the mind, require more than these.)
If wealth and grandeur are from sorrow free;
If gold can purchase friendship, joy, or ease,
(Tis seldom riches all alone can please:
The heart, the mind, require more than these.)
There is a mansion—but I will not paint
A splendour where description would be faint.
There all that can fastidious fancy please
Graces within; and flowers and sunny trees
Adorn the scene without: but all is cold.
'Tis like, to me, the fairy home of old
Where silence dwelt one hundred weary years:
Such is such splendour; but at last appears
The love that chases all its gloom away.
Tis come, that gentle presence! will it stay?
No! as in the scene presented, 'tis alone,
And fruit and flower change again to stone:
Why, why is this? she finds her bridegroom blind,
(At least to ev'ry virtue of the mind.)
Then vanity steps in and takes the reins;
In discontent and anger he complains,
Not thinking he who makes his home no home[2]
Gives full occasion to the fair to roam.
A splendour where description would be faint.
There all that can fastidious fancy please
Graces within; and flowers and sunny trees
Adorn the scene without: but all is cold.
'Tis like, to me, the fairy home of old
Where silence dwelt one hundred weary years:
Such is such splendour; but at last appears
The love that chases all its gloom away.
Tis come, that gentle presence! will it stay?
No! as in the scene presented, 'tis alone,
And fruit and flower change again to stone:
Why, why is this? she finds her bridegroom blind,
(At least to ev'ry virtue of the mind.)
Then vanity steps in and takes the reins;
In discontent and anger he complains,
Not thinking he who makes his home no home[2]
Gives full occasion to the fair to roam.
And p'rhaps he seeks a vain fatiguing joy
In those gay pleasures that dull time destroy!
Then farewell, health and happiness and ease:
Man is immortal, and these cannot please!
In those gay pleasures that dull time destroy!
Then farewell, health and happiness and ease:
Man is immortal, and these cannot please!
Oh, happier far the humbler state of those
Who in contentment's quiet shade repose!
Blest with a competence, they heed not care,
But aid the poor, and hospitably share
Their cheerful fireside with mutual friends,
Where cultur'd mind with mind so sweetly blends.
There sits calm industry with busy hands;
Those children learn to love the Lord's commands;
There every hope that cheers the human breast
Makes life serene, and points to heavenly rest!
Who in contentment's quiet shade repose!
Blest with a competence, they heed not care,
But aid the poor, and hospitably share
Their cheerful fireside with mutual friends,
Where cultur'd mind with mind so sweetly blends.
There sits calm industry with busy hands;
Those children learn to love the Lord's commands;
There every hope that cheers the human breast
Makes life serene, and points to heavenly rest!
Oh, bless'd religion! whate'er man's varied fate,
Tis thou alone canst make him truly great.
Oh, guide us safe through every care and ill;
Teach us to know thee, and thy laws fulfil;
Where poverty bends with supplicating knee,
May kind support and comfort flow from thee.
Where riches raise their proud, imposing head,
May gentle beamings of thy light be shed,
Till, won to gaze on heavenly truths here giv'n,
The heart be led to happiness and heaven.
And may the dreaded thunder of thy voice, Tis thou alone canst make him truly great.
Oh, guide us safe through every care and ill;
Teach us to know thee, and thy laws fulfil;
Where poverty bends with supplicating knee,
May kind support and comfort flow from thee.
Where riches raise their proud, imposing head,
May gentle beamings of thy light be shed,
Till, won to gaze on heavenly truths here giv'n,
The heart be led to happiness and heaven.
Which bids the humble spirit to rejoice,
Recall the wanderer from his dangerous way,
And teach returning sinners how to pray.
O'er all the land may truth divine be spread,
And ev'ry heart, by holy teachings led,
Seek higher joys than earthly things afford,
And give due glory to our risen Lord.
And may the power that sheds its heaven-born light
O'er many a dwelling in this land to-night,
Direct me still, and guard me lest I stray,
And guide the orphan on her lonely way.
- ↑ An allusion to "The Watcher."
- ↑ A critic's hand has warn'd me to correct
What I must truly own is a defect,—
That in this little sketch of human life
I've not brought in the careless, faithless wife.
In one short ev'ning you would fail to trace
All, all that in society takes place;
And then the length of this may represent
That partly brain, and most—my lamp was spent!
(A future view may, more excursive, prove
How many are the principles that move!)
The thought did rise, but feeling said "forbear,"—
A sister's pen her own frail sex may spare;
And heart doth grieve when home's bright hearth grows dim,
And she forgets the vows she made to him.
- St. Johns, April 25, 1859.