Then like the little golden flower,
May heavenly Hope arise,
And from the dreariness of earth
Point upward to the skies!
That from the records of the past
This lesson may be given:
Earth's joys and griefs are transient things,
Oh seek thy bliss in heaven!
HERE Sweetly sleep awhile, blest babe, thy sun
In haste hath set, thy race of suffering done;
A stranger to thy great Creator's name-
Unknown to thee thy glorious Saviour's fame.
Nor faith, nor hope, nor love, nor other grace,
Within thy infant bosom held their place.
No power hadst thou to shed one contrite tear,
One duteous act perform, or lisp one prayer,
But not in vain thy life! Thou hast not sown,
Yet the rich harvest reapest as thy own:
Thou hast not fought, but thou hast won the prize,
Hast never borne the cross, yet gain'd the skies.
E'en guilt was thine, of Adam's guilty race;
Yet such the Father's love-the Saviour's grace,
That Father's love hath turn'd thy night to day,
That Saviour's blood hath washed thy guilt away;
Clothed in his robe of righteousness divine,
Peace, freedom, life, and endless joys are thine.
SEE, with a smile of gladness meek,
The infant's brow is drest,
While fondly on his mother's cheek
His little hand is pressed.
O may the same Almighty Friend,
From whom existence came,
That little, powerless hand defend,
From deeds of guilt and shame!
Grant it to dry the tear of woe,
Bold folly's course restrain,
The alms of sympathy bestow,
The righteous cause maintain.
Write wisdom on the wing of time,
E'en in the morn of youth,
And, with benevolence sublime,
Dispense the light of truth.
Discharge a just, an useful part,
Through life's uncertain maze,
Till coupled with an angel's heart,
It strikes the lyre of praise.
MRS. SIGOURNEY,
WHEN evening shades succeed the sun,
And all my earthly work is done,
Shall I the precious hours amuse
In foolish jests, or trifling news?
No,-nobler themes demand my care!
Souls cannot feed on empty air;
One BOOK my leisure shall employ :
My richest food-my purest joy.
Ask you, what merit can it claim
Above the books of wit and fame ?
It tells me all I want to know,
To make me wise and blest below.
It shows the road to thrones above, Where saints and angels dwell in love; It marks the peaceful paths they trod; Its theme, is heaven-its author, GOD.
This BOOK the wondrous history shows How the wide world from nothing roseHow, from confusion's tenfold night,
Sun, moon, and stars diffused their light.
There I behold Creation's plan,
How earth received her tenant, man :How bright he rose-how soon he fell; And, born for Heaven, was doom'd to hell.
Here, I survey, with deepest awe,
Heaven's holy, good, and righteous law;
Compared with this, myself I see
Cover'd with guilt and misery.
Then, trembling on destruction's brink,
My soul in dark despair would sink;
But this blest book my peace secures,
And whilst it wounds, in mercy cures.
Far above men, or angels' thought,
I see my great salvation wrought;
For God's own son from Heaven came down,
To purchase my immortal crown.
To save me from eternal fire,
Behold him on the cross expire;
With mingled joy and grief I see,
How Jesus lived and died for me.
O let mine eyes with sorrow flow,
My heart with thankful wonder glow!
For sinners doomed to endless pain
My Saviour died, and rose again.
Say ye, whom wit and mirth engage,
The lover's song, or hero's page,
Can all your books produce like mine,
Such glorious deeds-such love divine ?
Into this treasure would you look ?
The BIBLE is my precious BOOK;
Which early, in this happy land,
I learnt to read and understand.
Say, have you lived on British ground,
And, never yet this treasure found;
Or, does it on your shelf appear,
Scarce touch'd or open'd through the year ?
Soon the archangel's trump shall blow,
The earth shall melt-the skies shall glow;
Then shall these leaves with piercing light,
Open to men and angels' sight.
Then shall the Judge, with solemn awe,
Proclaim the great eternal law:
Tried by this rule we then must go,
To endless bliss or endless woe.
Who would not now both search and prize,
That BOOK in which salvation lies:
Which all his sin and care can tell
Which leads to heaven, and saves from hell?
Sweet BOOK! with thee, my guide and friend,
My days begin, and sweetly end;
In life my hope-in death my stay,
My triumph in the judgment day.
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