Thou wert to me oft speakingOf God's sweet place of Rest,I would that place be seeking,To be with thee most blest.
Farewell, my young life's charmer,A long, a last farewell;I feel my heart grow warmerAs on thy love I dwell.
Calls he HUMBLEWORTH aside,Speaks to him with faltering tongue:"Father's sin I dare not hide;Me he bade before he died,Soon redress your grievous wrong.
"He destroyed your uncle'swill,When you were a little boy,And did not his part fulfilAs your proper guardian still,Losing peace of mind and joy.
"I'm prepared to give adeedTo you of that large estate,But I strongly intercedeFor my mother in her need,In her sad affliction great."
"My dear friend," the good man said,"Let some time now pass away.I am not of you afraid,His command you have obeyed,Let us talk some other day.
"Go, my boy, and cheer the heartOf your mother, still my friend;See, I bid you now depart,Lest delay increase her smart;I will soon to it attend.
"Learn to place in Christ your trust;Seek for pardon through His blood.God alone can keep you just,For we are at best but dust;Naught have we ourselves of good."
WILLIAM hastens to the HallWith a somewhat easier mind.Fearing that it might appalMother's heart, he tells not allThat befel their friends so kind.
Now an inquest has been heldO'er AMELIA'S corpse so fair,Tears have from their fountains welled,Grief immoderate has been quelled,Which has brought of peace a share.
Now arrangements have been madeSuiting all who are concerned.HUMBLEWORTHS such love displayed,As proved all that I have said,Showing in whose school they learned.
To the Hall, as theirs of right,All the family removed;And they strove with all their mightTo make the widow's burden light,For she was by them, beloved.
As assistant on the farmWILLIAM proved of greatest use.With a heart both young and warm,He soon found that ANNIE'S charmFor lost time was some excuse.
Why should I prolong this tale?All my object may divine.Christian love will still prevailO'er its foes when they assail,And it will forever shine.
I have a little garden plot,'Tis very small indeed;But yet it is a pleasant spot,And plenty large enough, I wot,When out-door work I need.
Two woodbines flourish at my door,And climb above its porch;One yields of grateful scent a store,One flowers till all the summer's o'erAnd winter days approach.
And o'er the walls grape vines are spread,Which bring delicious fruit;These also sweetest odors shed,And please my senses till I'm ledTo hold them in repute.
And then I have of peach trees three,Which have begun to bear,And 'tis a pleasing sight to seeMy somewhat numerous familyAll eager for a share.
Three apple trees I next would name,Though fruit they ne'er gave me;For this their tender age I blame,And other cause I cannot name,And so I wait to see.
Some berry trees I also boast,And these of different kinds.Of flowering shrubs I have a host,Which did in cash and labor costWhat might affright some minds.
Four kinds of lilac here are grown,One double flowering cherry,And weepingditto, not much known;Eight different sorts of rose I own,And shrub that yieldssnowberry.
Of lily yea, and crocus, too,I've some varieties,And monkshood, pinks, and violets blue,Of double almonds not a few,With two kinds of peonies.
Some polyanthus and foxglove,Sea-pinks, and columbine,Sweet-scented tulips, which I love,Whose beauty has e'en power to moveA heart less fond than mine.
The daisy and sunflower tall,Present a contrast great;One like to him who, proud in soul,Expects his fellow men to fallSubmissive at his feet.
The other, like true modesty,Scarce lifts its lovely headLest you its secret charms should see—Just like a lovely maid, when sheIs to vain-glory dead.
Sweet-briar and sweet-william claimA notice from my pen,For each of these can boast of fame;—Are better known than my poor nameAmong the race of men.
My hollyhocks and lichens fine,Spread out their charms to view,And other pretty flowers are mine—To speak whose praises I incline,If but their names I knew.
Of annuals I have but few,That fact I fully grant;Yet I have larkspur, pink and blue,And double poppies of rich hue.To serve me while the summer's newI've beds of rhubarb plant.
Some household herbs and fragrant thyme,With lettuce, sage, and mint,Complete my stock; but had I timeA lingering lesson swells my rhymeWith many a moral hint.
That as we rear in summer's glow.Herbs, fruits and flowerets fair,So may we in our natures growSweet flowers that may hereafter blowIn Heaven's serener air.
The Inebriate's Daughter's Appeal to Her Father.
One frosty night in bright moonlight,I left my cheerful home;My thoughts were such I cared not muchWhich way I chanced to roam.With firmest tread my way I threadThrough many a winding streetWhen drunkard's voice in tones not choice,My startled ear did meet.
He cursed a girl whose hair in curlBespoke a tidy mother;Whose clothes, though plain, wore not a stain,Yet grief her words did smotherHer beauteous eyes told then no liesWhile she looked at the man.As nature brought the words she sought,She this appeal began:
"Oh, father, leave this wretched place,And hasten home with me;For mother and the darling babeAre in sad misery!They have not tasted any foodSince morn of yesterday.Yet you should hear that mother dearFor blessings on you pray.
"For when she prays aloud for you,Her tears they flow apace,And deepest crimson doth suffuseHer ever lovely face.She says that she must leave us allBefore 'tis very long,To go to yonder Heaven above,And join in Angel's song.
"And when she looks at our dear babeHer tears flow forth again;Yet never does she, father dear,In words of you complain,But says that she will try to makeA happy home for you.Come ill, come well, whate'er betide,She'll loving be and true.
"O, father, hasten with me, then,Before my mother die!When I left home, your charming boyMost piteously did cry;It would have moved a heart of stoneTo see the tears he shed;His shrieks make worse the dreadful painIn mother's throbbing head!"
The drunkard stood in solemn mood,In riveted attention.This strong appeal did make him feelMost serious apprehension.He took the hand of maiden bland,And hastened fast away;Nor turned his face on that dread placeWhich had made him its prey.
They reached the house where that dear spouseWas breathing out her soul.From sense of sin he rushes in,Nor could himself control.Upon his knees in agoniesHe cries aloud, "My wife,Do speak to me, for I will beA husband, dear, through life!"
No voice there came; the vital flameHad fled, of child and mother.He could not stay, so turned away,With look that made me shudder.That little girl with hair in curlAt last to him doth speak:"My father dear, your heart I'll cheer,And blessings for you seek.
"How We must pray, she taught the wayWho now has gone to bliss.Nor would I be the least degreeIn duty found remiss."Her artless strain made him refrainFrom purposes most foul.In after years she calmed his fears,And saved at last his soul.
To the Children in Mrs. Day's School.
1853.
My dearest children, do you knowThat best of all things here below,And knowing, you should always showTo one anotherWhich when received doth warm the breast,To troubled souls imparts sweet rest,And makes each near connection blest—Of friend or brother.
This precious thing has power to meltMan's stubborn heart, as I have felt,Subdue all sins that ever dweltIn men benighted.If o'er this world 'twere shed abroad,The soldier soon might sheathe his sword,And God alone would be adored,And all things righted.
What is this thing of which I speak?It can be found by those who seek,With willing mind and spirit meek,Intent on finding.It has its origin above,More beauteous is than any dove;Those who have felt it know 'tis Love,And well worth minding.
Where was this love most clearly seenMy children you can tell, I ween.The truth both old and young may gleanFrom Scripture's pages.For there we read that Jesus cameTo suffer death, endure the shame,That he might free us from all blame,Throughout all ages.
1854.
Air—"AULD LANG SYNE."
Thou lovely town in which I dwell,My own adopted place,In verse I would most gladly tellThe pleasures which I trace,
As back I look through all the yearsWhich o'er my head have passed,Since I began, with many fears,My hopes on thee to cast.
For that support which, under God,I have from thee obtained.Now through life's journey I would plod,With gratitude unfeigned.
When I at first began my trade,I was not worth a cent.That small commencement then I madeWith money to me lent
By one whose name I fain would tell,If he would give consent.On love like this I'll fondly dwell,Till my poor life be spent.
His kindness set me first afloatIn business and its cares,And thy inhabitants have boughtMy humble, shining wares.
So that my needs have been supplied,And a most ample shareOf true home sweets I have enjoyed,Such as are far too rare.
But yet I have had sorrows too,Sent by my Father kind,To make me think, and say and doAll he in love designed.
And now I candidly declare,I would not if I could,Have altered my sweet bill of fare,It has been all so good.
Our eight dear children growing up,My wife and I behold,And quaff such, pleasures from life's cupAs none can get from gold.
And whence does such pure pleasure come?I answer, from the Lord.His presence cheers our humble home,And we can well afford
To praise and glorify His name,While we do here remain;And be content to suffer shame,If but the Crown we gain.
[Footnote: It affords me much pleasure to be able to say that after presenting these verses to Mr. Burritt he was kind enough to call on me at my house, and expressed himself pleased with them.]
Pray deem it not presumptious in meTo give expression thus to what I feltLast night, while listening to the poetryIn your discourse, as you on Commerce dwelt.
I know not if you ever wrote a rhyme,Or framed your thoughts in a well measured line;But sure I am your language so sublime,Shows you possess a deep, poetic mine.
I listened with attention most profound,As did the audience that before you sat,Feeling as if I was on holy ground;Which in my mind deep reverence begat.
And O, when you led us in spirit backTo Eden's God-formed, most delightful bowers.Ere our great parents had endured the rackOf sin-struck consciences among her flowers,
I almost fancied that I heard the birdsWarbling melodiously the praise of God;While sinless man in soul-enraptured words,Responded as he pressed the flowery sod.
And when Sin came, as with hot furnace-breath,To blast the loveliness of all around,And our progenitors first tasted deathWith consciousness that they were naked found,
You did portray the scene so vividly,Of their rude efforts at an uncouth dress,That tears of pity from strong sympathyBedimmed my eyes to see their great distress.
And when you showed how God with skillful handEmployed Himself to make them coats of skin,I saw mechanic skill take higher standFrom this divine and early origin.
And O, I thought this fact should ever leadArtificers to strive and manage wellTheir several crafts; and show by word and deedTheir love to him who does in glory dwell.
Then, as I watched the progress made by Art,And peaceful Commerce coming by degrees,I felt it was your mission to impartTo this war-ravaged world such views as these.
My gladsome soul did to such views respond,And utterance found before my God in prayer.Hence caught fresh glimpses of the time beyondThe present age, which shall such glory share.
Go on, great champion of the Good and True,Spread wide the messages of dove-eyed Peace,And may God's richest blessing flow to youWhere'er you are, until your labors cease!
TO A VIOLET. FOUND BLOOMING IN MY GARDEN IN DECEMBER, 1859.
Beauteous, variegated flower,That with courageous mien,Not heeding much stern Winter's power,Hast let thy face be seenAt such a season, and amid such dearthOf vernal beauty, I would bid thee hail;For charms like thine to me have wond'rous worth,When Summer's comforts fail.
I had not thought to see a gemLike thee, as fresh and fairAs ever graced a diadem,Bloom in the open airAfter such killing frost as we have had;And when grim Winter had his ice bolts hurledWith double vengeance, prematurely madAs though to chill the world.
Still thou art here in loveliness,But lacking Spring-time's scent,And seeming in thy charming dress,With thy lone lot content.The while that other plants are dead to sight,And waiting patiently for Spring's approach,When King Frost's forces shall have ta'en their flight,Chased by Sol's glorious torch.
But now I bid a warm adieu,And place this in a bookWhere I can bring thee fresh to view.When'er I choose to look.Regretting only that I tore awayThee from my garden bed, where thy sweet faceLit up with smiles that nook, and made it gay,As by a sunbeam's trace.
1854.
In a wretched, narrow street of an old English town,A roving tinker lived; one who would often drownOf Virtue every trace, by drinking much strong beer;Oft mixing in a fight, a stranger to all fear.
Right before his door-step, mud did the gutter fill;And once to cleanse it out he never had the will.The windows of his house with patch-work were supplied,And all within the door by coal-smoke well was dyed.
In such a place as this, we would not hope to findOne of the human race with pure and noble mind;Yet one indeed there was, whom we shallEmmacall—Most beautiful her face, most lovely in her soul.
She was the only child of that sin-hardened man—Her sainted mother died as her tenth year began;The father brutal seemed to all the World around,Yet never with his girl was he in anger found.'
And much his kindness told upon her gentle heart;It soothed her childish grief, and made her act her part.The lessons she had learned before her mother died,Were now of greatest use, for she was sorely tried.
And when her father went to stay a week away,She read her Bible oft, and cared not much for play;But, feeling ill at ease, with dirt within and outShe whitewashed all the rooms; of this you need not doubt.
The gutter still remained, just in its former state;That she could not mend, so left it to its fate.But now she scrubbed the floors, and waited patiently,Till came her father home, who smiled the change to see.
His feelings were roused up when he viewed the comforts round,And wondered where the child could so much skill have found?Then clasped her in his arms—felt now inclined to beMore worthy of his girl, and work right steadily.
About this time there came a Sabbath visitor,Who had got youths to school, but wanted many more.The tinker angry sat, nor asked the man within;Said, "Emma read her Book, and did not live in sin."
But she, quite conscience-struck, said, "Father, you're not right,We all great sinners are, in God's most holy sight;My Bible tells me this—I'm sure it speaks the truth;Please let me go to school, while I am yet a youth!"
This unexpected thrust went to his parent-heart;Yet still he did not like with his dear girl to part;But bid the man sit down, and tell him what was taughtIn these same Sabbath Schools, of which he had not thought.
This friend was nothing loath; he sought the good of souls—Had tasted Jesus' love, which selfishness controls;So told how many folks, by best of motives led,Gave their own pleasure up, and taught the young instead.
'Mongst these were often found some great in rank and wealth,Who loved the cause so well, they did it not by stealth;But honor counted it to teach in Sunday School,And thus to square their lives by their dear Savior's Rule.
The tinker was surprised to hear such news as this;He thought that all fine folks were full of selfishness;But, if it all was true, the girl at once might go—Whatever good she got, she soon that good would show.
Then Emma threw her arms around his neck, and said,"Dear father, for your love you shall be well repaid;When I come home from school, I'll tell you all I learn,Then the good of Sabbath Schools you may soon discern."
She asked the man to tell where she would have to go;Who said, "My little girl, 'tis there, inUnion Row;In that large, lofty house; the time is half-past two."This heard, forth Emma went, and made no more ado.
The father, when alone, sat long time lost in thought,Then took the Bible up, and through its pages sought;He wished to see himself if all they said was true;But little progress made—such work to him was new.
Soon came his bright-eyed girl, with face like rose in June,Who told of hymns they sung, and of each pretty tune;What chapters there were read—the questions asked she told—What prayers were offered up, both for the young and old.
She said her teacher was a lady very grand,Who, when she first went in, most kindly took her hand,And led her to a seat where she herself sat down,Nor seemed afraid to crush her beautiful silk gown.
The tinker heard it all, and wondered in his mindHow gentlefolks could be so very good and kind;And promised her she should next Sabbath go again,But wished that she would now her former words explain.
His conscience told him oft that he was far from right,That he had wicked been, in sinning against light;Oh, was there then no hope that he should yet be saved?This thought was hard to bear, and could not well be braved.
Then Emma meekly spoke, and told him all she knew;And searched the Bible's page, to prove her words were true.This was an easy task, for there 'twas clearly seenHow men, because of sin, by God condemned had been.
He found this prove as gall, and felt so much distressed,By day he could not work, at night obtained no rest.Before the week was gone he, almost in despair,Went forth into the woods, and wandered here and there.
When Sunday came at last, he hailed it with more joyThan he had done before, and did its hours employIn poring o'er that Book which had so roused his fears—When Emma went to school his eyes were full of tears.
So strongly on her mind was his sad state impressed,She to her teacher flew, and thus herself expressed:"O, Madam, please to tell what sinners great must do,When they, because of sin, feel quite pierced through and through?
"My father, all the week, not worked, nor ate, nor slept;But seemed much like a man who was of sense bereft.Oh, speak, dear lady, speak! for surely he will dieUnless he soon can learn which way he is to fly!"
With pity in her eyes, the lady kindly tookThe humble, loving girl, whose frame with terror shook,And placed her in a seat, and whispered in her earThat Jesus came to save poor sinners filled with fear.
She told her how He was both God and Man in one—The Lord of Heaven and Earth, yet God's beloved Son;That He for sinners died, just out of purest love,And on the third day rose, and went again above;
But sent His Spirit down to work upon our hearts,Through His blest Word of Truth, sent to our inward parts;And says in that same word—the Bible you have read—That all who do believe are saved, because he bled!
She further kindly said, "Wait now till school is done,And I will go with you—so much my love you've won."Then Emma dried her tears, and with a pleasant face,Amongst the other girls she quickly took her place.
Again, from portions read, the teachers questions ask;They strove to work from love, and felt it was no task;Once more sweet hymns were sung which suited Emma's case,And prayer from all arose up to the Throne of Grace.
The truth that Emma heard went home into her soul,And joyful feelings rose which she could scarce control.The pleasant service o'er, the teacher with her wentInto that filthy street, nor thought her time misspent.
They entered soon the house; the wretched man was foundNigh overwhelmed with grief, and waiting for the soundOf news, which, as he thought, his darling girl would bring;But at this proof of love his tears afresh did spring.
He truly felt ashamed that one like she should come,To try to do him good, in his most wretched home;The lady told him soon what she might do for suchWas done for Jesus' sake, which did his feelings touch.
She then sat meekly down, and in a heavenly frame,Told him how Jesus Christ a Sacrifice became;How sinners of all ranks, by Faith, might be forgiven—Be saved from sin and hell, and go, at last, to Heaven!
The Lord her labors blessed—they both believed the Word—And thus it did appear the prayer of Faith was heard.For such a state of things had Emma's mother prayed,And she had her request, though for a time delayed.
The tinker, now reclaimed by God's almighty power,His business still pursued, nor lost a single hour;On Sabbath went to Church, with his neat, pretty maid,And in temptations strong received the Savior's aid.
Then, feeling that the place where they were living now,Was not the place at all for Faith and Love to grow,He took a small, neat house, just outside of the town,And, for a proper life, gained from the good, renown.
In time dear Emma came to be a teacher, too,And God did her employ much lasting good to do.Her father, in due time, was taken to his rest,And she, with loving man, as a wife was truly blest.
I might prolong my tale, but quite enough is told,To show that Christian Love is better far than gold;That those who wish to be most happy here below,Must strive with all their might the Savior well to know.
My dear, afflicted parent! Ere thine eyesAre closed in death, accept this tribute dueFrom one who is allied by Nature's ties,And ties which firmer bind both me and you.
My strain is humble, and my muse is rude,Yet you my lay will now be pleased to hear.Deem it not vain in me thus to intrudeMy unlearned warblings on your dying ear.
'Tis not a thirst for fame that bids me wakeMy youthful harp, and strike its solemn chords;But 'tis the strong desire, for your dear sake,I feel to treasure up your dying words.
Then come, my Muse; O, condescend to aidMy feeble efforts, while I touch this theme;Ev'n thou who hoverest now o'er COWPER'S, shade—Thou Source of Truth! and, with enlightening beam,
Remove the film that does becloud the eyeOf my dark understanding while I sing;O, guide my trembling fingers, for I'll tryTo tune my harp, and touch its every string.
Say now, what was that sound which caught my ear,While I sat mute upon my father's bedA sound so sweet it did my spirit cheer,And made me muse, by contemplation led.
It was the triumph of that holy man—His deathbed song, in view of yonder heavenAnd as he spoke—till then his face was wan—A brightened countenance was to him given.
"I have a glorious prospect now in sight!"He said, then raised his voice—"'Tis through the bloodOf Jesus Christ; it fills me with delight,And makes me long to cross dark Jordan's flood!"
But then, as if his words might be construedTo be impatient, he serenely said,"Let not my language now be wrongly viewed;I wait God's will—on Him my soul is stayed."
He still continued, "Though my suffering's great,My strength has been quite equal to my day;God's love to me indeed is very great,Nor will I murmur though He still delay.
"I reckon all the sufferings of this timeAs nothing, when compared with heavenly things!"He ceased, and left me this to pen in rhyme,And ponder o'er, when he in Glory sings.
I stood; my eyes were fixed upon that faceWhich oft had worn a smile for me, his son;In retrospect, I then began to traceThe many acts of kindness he had done.
Well I remember—though he was but poor—How ardently he wished to have me taughtAt least to read and write, if nothing more;My interest to advance was what he sought.
And, aided by a frugal partner's care,He furnished was with means to gain his end;Most careful still, they always had to spareTo purchase books which might assistance lend.
Great pleasure then they took to hear me readThe Bible's sacred page; though I, averseTo what was good, would rather have been freed;And they were grieved to have me to coerce.
I then knew not the value of that BookWhich, since that time, I have so precious found;And my perverse young temper would not brookRestraint, though it did much their feelings, wound.
They persevered in pointing out to meThe dangerous path that I was treading in;At last, it pleased the Lord to let me seeHow dreadful was the nature of my sin.
What joy then filled thy bosom, father dearThou, too, my mother, didst express delight,That I was brought to lend a listening earTo Jesus' voice, and with his soldiers fight.
But ere that time, what pleasure it did giveTo hear the warbling of my youthful Muse;It made you wish that you might only liveTo see the day when I would not refuse
To sing of Love omnipotent, Divine!Such love as Jesus bore to wretched man!And, aided by the truth which clean doth shineShout forth aloud Redemption's finished plan.
For seven long years we have united beenWithin a Church, in fellowship and love;And in that time how often have we seenAfflictions sent, dire evils to remove.
Let all now left, in gratitude to God—In meek submission to His sacred will—Both praise and bless His name! then kiss the rod:This will our souls with consolation fill!
Come, dove-eyed peace-offspring of heaven, descend;Thy calm, sweet influence do thou me lend;Dispel the gloom that broods upon my mind;Bid melancholy flee; make me resignedTo bear with patience and submission dueThe will of God; and still my mind imbueWith reverential awe and just regardFor all his ways, as taught in his blest word.Yes, thou sweet Peace, whom, when the Savior greatHad nearly closed sojourn in earthly state,He gave as his last legacy to thoseHis dearest friends, who from mankind he chose,In those dear words, "Peace now I leave with you,My peace I give; you soon shall prove it true.Not as the world its boasted treasure gives,'Tis of my grace to each one who believes.Let not your hearts be troubled, then, nor fear,The Comforter—the Holy Ghost—is near.And, when I shall to yonder heaven ascend,Him, with His vast, rich blessings, I will send."
Not only these this gracious boon enjoyed,But Saints before that time, pure, unalloyed,And blissful peace within their breasts possessed,Both in dread dangers and when much oppressed.Adam, our great progenitor, receivedWith Eve, his wife, this gift, which much relievedTheir guilty minds. It was the promise greatMade to them while in their most abject state,"That their illustrious Seed should bruise the headOf the Arch Tempter, in their room and stead,"Which wrought the change produced in their sad minds,And soon bid flee that slavish fear which blindsThe eyes of mortals; gave them soon to see,"Though the offense was great the gift was free,"And would extend unto their progeny.O blissful change! from dark foreboding fear,A wounded conscience, and Hell's prospects drear,To joy unspeakable and purest peace,Which once received were never more to cease.A prophet said—the prophet was a manWho did enjoy that peace which only canFlow from one source—God's own redemption plan—"Mark well the perfect man; behold the upright,Whose death so precious is in Jesus' sight;His end is peace." He goes down to the shadeOf death's dark valley, and is not afraidTo come within the precincts of the grave,Well knowing Christ is ever near to save.
Deluded Balaam also sweetly sung,In words of solemn grandeur, bold and strong,The happiness which Israel through his tribesEnjoyed beneath God's care. Not Balak's bribesNor vain enchantments, with their altars reared,Nor bleeding victims sacrificed, appearedTo move their God from blessing them to curseHis chosen people, oft to God averse.Well Balaam knew that if he were to die"Their God was not a man that he should lie."He bated Truth, but was constrained to singOf their blest state beneath God's fostering wing.And when he sang the latter end of suchHis harp gave tones as though from Seraph's touchHe sang aloud their bliss, not did he ceaseTill all the hills re-echoed sweetly "Peace."Nor could refrain from envy when he viewedJehovah's covenant of Peace renewed;But breaking forth in rapture loud did cry"O let me die the death the Righteous die!Let my last end be only like to hisWhom God dost bless with thee, delightful Peace!"Even I, who write this simple Ode to thee,Have felt thy thrice bless'd influence on me;And feeling fresh the vigor thou dost give,Would gladly trace thy merits while I live;Would fain enumerate the mighty hostOf those who've had pure peace of mind to boast;But ah, how great the sum! even time would failOr if to gain its aid I could prevail,My powers of mind would fail to set them forthAs they appear in Scripture; yet 'tis worthThe little time which I can freely spareTo choose a few from many that are there.The pleasure it affords would well repayThe labor needed, if I spent the day.
Behold that holy man who, strong in faith,Lends an obedient ear to what God saith.See, when the Lord his strength of faith would test,How quickly he obeys the high behest.The task indeed was great, but he, possessedOf peace of mind, was always quite at rest.Yes, though his Isaac dear was doomed to die,No murmuring escaped his lips, and why?He knew that God had promised him to blessWith numerous progeny, and nothing less.He felt assured that from this very seed—His darling son—ere long was to proceedSo vast a host that if the stars but couldBy man be numbered, then his offspring would.And forth from them was Christ the Lord to come,The Refuge of his Saints, to lead them home.And Abraham knowing this ne'er sought releaseFrom God's sweet service, and his end was peace.
Now mark his son. He in the shining trackHis father trode, sincerely walked; no lackHad he of the great blessings which from theeFlow in such rich profusion, but did seeBy eye of Inspiration what God saidWas soon to be fulfilled. Then he was laidBeside his father, and his end was peace.
Jacob, his youngest son, Supplanter named,Parent of Patriarchs so greatly famed,Found too that peace of mind was always sweetWhen he sojourned with Laban in retreat.What was it, I would ask, which made him bearThe heat by day and midnight's frosty air?The loss of cattle stolen from his hands?Such churlish conduct, and such harsh commands?With loss of sleep, and wages changed ten times,And twenty rigorous years in wasting climes?What was it then, I ask, but peace of mindArising from the thought that God was kindAnd ever faithful, and would soon fulfillHis promise made, to be his Guardian still!He had sore trials, yet with great availHe wrestled with his God and did prevail.
Joseph, his son, beloved above the rest,Felt soothing peace within his youthful breast.His is an history that as a childI loved to ponder, and to mark how mildAnd affable his conduct, yet how great.The bitterest envy joined, with fiercest hate,The brethren hare toward the godly youthWho trode the path of rectitude and truth,That they in spite of his prophetic dreams,Disposed of him, and, as they thought, the themesHis soul dwelt much upon, by banishment.Straitway to distant Egypt he was sent,While they, with strange feigned tale, now homeward came,And vainly thought to clear themselves from blameBy falsehood foul and black hypocricyBefore their unsuspecting father. HeTheir lies believed and mourned his much-loved sonIn tears of anguish, whom he though undone.
Meanwhile the youth, directed by his God,In journey with the Ishmaelites did plodHis weary way to Egypt. He arrivedPossessed of peace of mind, nor could be bribedTo part with this, his only treasure leftSave sweet reflection, when he was bereftBy his hard brethren of the sweets of home,And banished forth a wanderer to roam.Say now, O Muse, what was the cause why heEnjoyed a state of mind completely freeFrom all the sad effects which freely flowIn tasting long accumulated woe?'Twas having peace, that best of all rewardTo those—and none beside—who Truth regard.And long as Joseph did in Egypt live,The record of his life this truth did give.Behold him when in his first master's house,Who placed beneath his care all but his spouse,How nobly he withstood temptation great,How suitable his conduct to his state.Behold him when his mistress tried so hardTo tempt him into sin. Did he regardHer strong entreaties or her flowing tears?Thosefell like emptiness upon his ears,Andthesebut more impressed his tender mindWith wish to better serve his master kind.He gave this answer: "Oh, how can I doThis wickedness so great and sin with youAgainst that God who hath my feet preservedIn holy paths from which I never swerved?"But oh, what poor return did he receive!A dungeon followed next, nor did he grieve,But cheerfully endured the heavy cross,And found his gain where others saw but loss.And he who was his trust did not forsakeHis much loved child when Truth seemed all at stake,But brought him through these trials manifold,And, still preserved that peace of mind which goldCould ne'er have purchased, and much less secured;But having which, he patiently endured.
Now mark the steps by which he did ascendTo that high pitch of honor, when did bendThe knees of Egypt's sons at King's commandAs he went forth in state to view the land.It was not flatt'ry, nor vain compromiseWith Egypt's many gods no, he was wiseWith wisdom from above, and well he knewThat the predictions he had given were true,And that ere long both heaven and earth would seeHis youthful dreams fulfilled were sure to be.Even so they were. His brethren did bow downTheir faces to the earth 'fore him unknown,When they were sent by Jacob to obtainFor him and his the necessary grain.It was a time of famine, and the dearthHad then extended over all the earthBut Joseph was raised up by gracious heaven,And unto him for this was wisdom given.Now when his feelings he could not restrain,He formed a scheme by which he might detainThe brethren, who a second time had comeTo purchase food, for those they left at home.The scheme was tried and it succeeded well;But O, how Joseph burned to break the spellWhich hitherto had bound them! He made knownThat he was Joseph to whom they had shownSuch cruel usage, but their deed forgave,And told how God had raised him up to saveThem with their offspring and great Pharoah's land.The news now reached the King, who gave command,"Joseph, let all thy relatives appearBefore my face; they nothing have to fear.Lade all their beasts and bid them haste away;Take wagons from my hand, make no delay.Inform your father and let him come down;The best of my dominions is his own.Bring all your progeny, not once regardYour household goods, if they your speed retard."
I'll now take leave of all that passed between,And come at once to that affecting scene—The meeting of the father with the son.Poor Jacob saw what glory he had wonBy perseverance in the "narrow path,"And having seen it, wished to meet his death.
Mark now the truth of what I wish to sing,This interview to Jacob peace did bring.He said: "In bitterness I will descendInto my grave and meet my latter end."But God in mercy and rich love decreedThat he should see both Joseph and his seed.
Ere long the time arrived when Jacob's ageGave proof he too must soon leave this world's stage.Therefore he gathered round him, near his bed,His twelve dear children, unto whom he said,"List now, ye sons of Jacob, hearken wellTo Israel your father. I foretellWhat shall befall you in your latter days.O then, my sons, take heed unto your ways."He ended not till all received the shareWhich God allotted them, when with due careThe Prophet drew his feet into the bed,And in sweet Peace his spirit softly fled.
Now, when the last sad rites had been performedO'er Israel's corse, the brethren, now reformedBy God's just dealings, soon began to fearThat Joseph would their enemy appear;So sent a message, fell before his face,Confessed their sin, and wished he would eraseOut from his mind remembrance of their deed.He gave soft answers, hence they all were freedFrom ills expected, and were now agreed.A few short years saw each of them removedBy peaceful death, and so my point is proved.
For me there'll be no great display,No turning out of people,When I do quit my house of clay,Nor tolling from the steeple
Of yon tower with its tin capped dome,Whose bell the time is telling,When some lone wanderer reaches home—His narrow churchyard dwelling.
Nor yet will pompous equipage,Or such like things sublun'ral,Nor music sweet with charms engageThose who attend my funeral.
Nor will I care if but my deathTake place while friends are tending;And I can see with eye of faithMy blessed Saviour bending
Down upon me a gracious eye,And bid my spirit enterInto her rest. O, then I'd flyAnd cleave to Him—-the Center
Of those sweet joys which do aboundIn yon bright world of Glory,Where I shall hear the blissful soundOf that delightful Story,
How Jesus did our cause engage,When he left Heaven's portal,And stooped to conquer hellish rage,In weakness like a mortal.
How he fulfilled in its demandsThe Law that we had broken;How God exacted at his handsThe strongest, clearest token
Of matchless Love, so that He gaveHis life's blood for transgression,And left the confines of the graveIn glorious Resurrection.
I.——TO MR. J. P——N, IN THE STATE OF MISSOURI, 1841.
The dolorous cry, from far was heardHow groaned poor Afric's sable sons.Our hearts with pity moved, we fearedMuch evil by the monster done.Ask ye his name? 'Tis slavery dire,So big with crime, so red with gore.
Could Christians feel his dreadful ireOh how they'd wish he was no more.Would they not send to Heaven this prayer?Hear thou on high, O God of love;Ere time be long thine arm make bare.Rend him with judgment from above;Down from his seat hurl him to dwell.
Built round with walls of fire in hell.Raise thy strong arm and fix him deep.Add this: in anguish make him weep.Now hell, make room in thy domains,This dreadful foe will soon no moreFirm bind poor slaves in galling chains,Or lash their backs till flows their gore.Remorseless still, he cares not for their fate,Doom speedy, therefore, should on him await.
Thou sweetest, loveliest babe—my first born son;I low great has been thy sufferings from disease!Oh, my poor soul doth, ever and anon,Make prayer to God, that he would give thee ease.
Ah, dearest babe! from this thy case, I readSad, yet true lessons of imputed sin.Can we conceive that thou indeed art freed—O, thought most strange—from guilt by man brought in?
Would we but read, mark, learn, and still digestHis word, who gave at first to man his being,Error would vanish, and His will expressed,Respecting this, we could not fail from seeing.
Doubt would remove, and so would murmur, too;Justice would still be seen most clearly such;Unquestionable, this fact would stand to view,No one is free from Sin's defiling touch!
I see thy pale, emaciated face,Once decked with bloom of health's most ruddy glow!Regard for man would lead me still to trace—Bent on the truth—whence all these evils flow.
Rich in possession of the Book Divine,All I desire is that the Lord would giveNeedful instruction, while I scan the line—The line of truth, on which my soul must live.
For there I read—though Death hath ever reignedO'er every one of Adam's sinful race—Righteousness of Christ, by Faith unfeigned,Delivers from its sting: all of free Grace!
Cease then, my soul, to murmur or complain,And place thy trust upon the God of Love.Now look to him who lose from th' grave again,And reascended to the realms above.
Dread not the stroke, though great may be the pain,And hard to bear, for it will work thy gain!
III.—A TRIBUTE TO THE MEMORY OF JOHN DENT.[Who lost his life by an accident in raising a barn.]
1843.
A task so painful, yet so justly dueTo thee, my dear, my much respected Brother,Rightly devolves on me whose heart beats trueIn Zion's cause; yet, would it were another!
But as it is, my Muse, though rude, shall sing—Used as she is to such a mournful strain—That I may cause true sympathy to springEre long, for those who feel for thee most pain.
'Tis scarce a week since thou, in manhood's prime,Of things quite dear to both hadst spoke with me!'Tis now my lot to tell, in mournful rhyme,How short a space there was 'twixt Death and thee.
Ere thou wert well aware the fatal dartMet thee amongst thy fellows, shot by Death;Ev'n now I feel that dread from friends to partMethinks thou felt, though thou wast strong in faith.
O, that I could but paint in language strong,Regarding truth, thy sufferings so severe;Yes, then I'd sing, in pure and holy song,Of Him whose presence cheered thee much while here.
"Fear not," saith God, to all his people dear;Just then thy heart responded, "Fear ye not!"O, what a precious truth our hearts to cheer!How sure to reconcile us to our lot.
Now is the time to glorify our God,Depending on His gracious arm to keepEach footstep treading in the narrow road.Nor let us murmur, though constrained to weepThe while o'er those who now in Jesus sleep.
When troubles arise, my friend, lift thine eyesTo that Being who died on the cross!—Rest assured of this: the Mansions of BlissNe'er were reached withoutsome seemingloss!
1853.
Hail, truly pleasant, fast increasing Town!Thee I address, in rude but earnest strains.My own adopted place! Some sixteen yearsHave rolled fast o'er my head since first my eyesGot sight of thee, from off yon Eastern hill.How welcome was the sight! O, how cheering,Grand and beautiful, to a mind like mine!I oft had heard of thee before I came—Had heard the name thy beauteous river bears;As oft had wondered if I e'er should liveTo cross the broad Atlantic's deep blue waves,And reach the shores of that vast Continent,Whose many wonders, in my boyish days,I tried to sing, and still longed much to see.As often tried to picture, in my mind,The appearance thou presented to the view;I fancied thee much less than what thou wert—Consisting of a few small, straggling huts,Both rude in shape, and ruder far in thingsWhich make home, what it always ought to be,The dearest place that men possess on earth!I next would paint thy river deep and broadAs great "Saint Lawrence," or the giant streamsThat everywhere abound throughout this land!In this I was deceived; its name misledMy loving fancy; for I surely thoughtIt must be great, indeed, beyond compare,In such a country to receive such name.[Footnote: The "Grand River."]
This great mistake corrected; I have foundSome wonders rare, though of a different kind;And often have I wandered on the banksOf thee, sweet River! where maple, elm or oakHave spread their boughs and verdant foliage,And have felt the cool, refreshing breezesWhich blew from off thy stream in Summer's heat.There I would indulge, awhile, my fancy;Give her the reins, and let her soar aloftInto the vast infinitude of space,Or try to tie her down to earthly things;
Make her portray what now the prospects were,That this fair Town had placed before her view.Would she soon rise to eminent estate?Or would she struggle vainly, for a while,To reach to greatness, and so just remain—A monument of ruin and decay?As I have stood upon the pleasant hillsBy which thou art encircled, I have castMy eye from East to West, from North to South,And often marked the vast extent of groundWhich thou may'st fill; laid out by God's own handTo be a glorious city—and that soon!
Then "put thy shoulder to the wheel!" Arise,In all thy might, and let thy hardy sonsPut forth united efforts in the work.Deepen thy Canal; let thy Railroads makeBoth quick and certain progress; and neglectNo proper means to push the town ahead!
But, while thou strivest thus in temporal things,Oh, forget not things of greater moment!Strive to purge away all that's offensiveTo true Virtue. Let thegroggeriesceaseTo deal out liquid fire to kill thy sons!Strengthen the hands of those who would maintainGood wholesome laws. Give adequate supportTo those who minister in holy things,That they, unfettered, may aloud proclaimChrist's great Salvation to a ruined World!Let all true Christians in thy midst unite,In holy efforts and God's strength, to stemThe torrent great of foul Iniquity.Yes, fellow Christians, let our lives be suchAs many commend the Truth which we believe,Unto the consciences of all around.Let those of us, especially, who claimA parent's honored name, now boldly stand,And show in bonds conjugal, faithfulness;Still manifesting love and tendernessUnto our partners; always aim to makeOur homes the scenes of happiness and peace!Then will our children rise and call us blessed;And generations yet unborn will tell—That Brantford was determined to be greatIn every thing which is both wise and good!
[Footnote: This piece was the second that was printed in a Brantford paper, I would here take the opportunity to say that Henry Lemmon, Esq., of theCourier, though differing from me in politics, was exceedingly courteous in giving my rhymes free admission into his journal. The same testimony I also willingly hear to the lateHerald, and theExpositor, still flourishing.]
The Iron Horse has reached at last Cayuga's heights so near;Look out, ye men of Brantford, now, for soon he will be here!He brings with him a weighty load, his way before him feels,As slowly o'er the new-laid track he moves his ponderous wheels.
Mechanics, use your utmost skill, and ply each brawny arm,Let sight of yon huge iron steed your very heart's-blood warm;Nor let cold Winter's raging storms your progress now retard,But quickly get the bridges built; nor doubt a rich reward.
Be steady, men! the hammers lift, send home the sturdy nails;Make every fixture quite secure, and solid lay the rails;'Tis done right well! and now, again, the Monster moves along,But cautiously, for fear the work should not prove very strong.
He does resemble very much the mighty Elephant,That let our new-made wooden bridge his courage sadly daunt;Who, when he came to cross the stream which flows right through ourtown,Did fancy his great clumsy foot would break the fabric down.
So slowly moves this horse along, but soon his speed he'll quicken—Nor care a straw though Winter's snow right in his track may thicken;For when the works are finished well, he'll seem to snuff the breeze,And fly at such a rapid rate as may his masters please.
Look out, ye men of Brantford, now! See, he has reached your doors;He heaves and pants, he snorts and looks to sweat through all hispores;And yet he stands in harness trim, not cares a fig for rest,But is quite ready still to move, and waits but your behest.
And now, above his whistle shrill, is heard a deafening noise—The people all, in loud hurrahs, give vent to heartfelt joys;The cannon roars, while all around is vigorous effort madeTo make this Celebration throw all others in the shade!
Processions form, the banners wave; now mark those hardy Bands—The Fire Brigade—who well deserve much honor at our hands;For they in war-like deeds excel, yet not in bloody fight—The battle with destroying fire, by day as well as night!
These form, with others in their rear, a very numerous host;The Marshal gives command, and now each company takes its post;The drums are beat, sweet music fills the ear with much delight,And splendid Fireworks are prepared to grace the coming night.
O, ye who have the management of this most gloriousfete,My Muse would your attention crave, and earnestly entreat,That you would not forget the poor, but give to them a shareOf all your choicest eatables, as much as you can spare.
And let them have a good supply of tea and coffee, too;They well deserve as rich a treat as either I or you;For do they not, with constant toil, such works as this complete?Then welcome them unto the board, and bid them freely eat.
Now I will close my hasty rhyme, with earnest wish expressed,That all our town would well behave to each and every guest;Let all our conduct on that day be orderly and quiet,And none lay out a single cent in drunkenness and riot.
1854.
I saw a fair young mother sitting,With a babe upon her knee;Fast through 'er mind sweet thoughts were flitting—So it did appeal to me.
Her eyes with fondest smiles were beamingOn that infant's lovely face;She seemed upon the future dreaming,And I tried her dream to trace.
While her face with love was glowing,As her babe looked up and smiled;Thus I sketched her numbers flowingFreely forth unto her child:
"Charming boy, in beauty vieingWith the fairest rose I see;This I need not be denying,That thou dearer art to me.
"Whilst thou slept, I fell to musingOn thy present happy lot;And thy future for thee choosing,Soon all other thoughts forgot.
"Thus I chose at first to paint thee—Growing up toward thy teens;No corruption near to taint theePassing through thy boyish scenes.
"Then I traced out all the laborWhich I would bestow on thee,That thou mightest grow in favorWith the Lord, as well as me.
"Next I viewed thy mind expanding,With the best of knowledge stored:Light divine, and understandingGained from God's most holy Word.
"Years flew by; thou wert approachingVery near to man's estate,And, to those, around, wert broachingThy deep thoughts, with soul elate!
"Again I saw thee; thou wert comingTo the heights of world-wide fame;My fears arose, I saw ills looming,And bid thee guard thy spotless name.
"I looked again, and found thee wooingDamsel modest, rich and fair;And wicked men sought thy undoing,Ere thou wert the least aware.
"But, thanks to God! He did preserve thee—Gave thee, too, a lovely wife;For duty this afresh did nerve thee,Struggling with the ills of life.
"Again the vision passed before me,But some years had fled away;Thou hadst been sick, the Lord restored thee—Children were around at play.
"I saw thy wife and thee were growingIn sweetest chaste conjugal love;To things of God attention showing,Fitting you for bliss above.
"The curtain drops: thy smiles recall meTo discharge my duties right;Rich mercies I enjoy console meFor the loss of Vision bright."