PS 1098 . B29 S6 LIBRARY OF CONGRESS DQDOS'^bSEfia ' «0 *^o 0" • • .♦^■v. *'<IT0U'S PKEFAOE. metre, and some prosaic sentences ; so he could in the best volume of poetry now extant. It may be proper to add, the editor would have attempted some emendations did not the author prefer her original forms of expression. A. F. BiGELOW. CONTENTS. Genius Page 11 Angel of His Presence 14 Ontario 15 Wounding Words 16 Children Disinterred 16 Natiu'e's Voices 18 Angelic Ministries 19 Tlie Angel Visitant 20 The Absent One 22 Falling Leaves 23 The Better Land 24= To a Friend 26 1 Corinthians ii, 9 27 Reply to a Dying Brother 29 The Old Chapel 31 Charity 32 Divine Chastening Illustrated 33 The Two Poets 35 Ellen 38 Excellency of Christ 39 Struggle on 41 Rev. L. D. Gibbs 42 To the Bible 44 The Dewy Flower 45 Children at Play 46 Evening Shadows 47 a CONTENTS. In memory of David Blisli Page 48 Spiritual Calmness 49 My Mother 50 The Blind Husband 51 "Thou shalt see greater things" 52 Cheering Thoughts 53 Mrs. Rev. E. Pease 54 Resignation 55 Theron 56 The First Hour of Spring 57 The Lone Surviver 59 Teacher's Farowell GO "Feed my Lambs" Gl Farewell to Spring G2 Farewell to my Harp G3 Two Smothered Children 64 The Charms of Autumn 65 Two Roses 67 The Missionary 67 " Thy Brother shall rise again" 68 Hon. Silas Wright 69 ToMissS. M.G 70 A Response 72 On the Death of a Child 73 The Grave-yard 75 They ai-e Passing 76 A voice from Africa 77 My Mother 78 To Melissa ; 79 Angel Ministries 80 Penitent's Offering 80 ToAlmira 82 To a Dying Penitent 82 A Walk to the Grave-yard 83 The New Year 84 The First Grief. 86 CONTENTS. 9 A Lost Spirit Page 87 The Memory of Home 88 Have Faith iii God 89 The Old Rock 90 He Knoweth the Way that I take 92' Farewell to Winter 94 White Robes 95 The Bride's Farewell 96 The Sailor's Hymn 97 The Divine Signet 98 Mother, Home, and Heaven 99 Passing Away 101 The Consmnptive 103 The Dove 105 Love — A Confession 106 The Old Year 108 The Sister's Inquiry 108 The Winds 109 An Autumnal Evening 112 "I'll Wake Again" 113 Christmas Morning 114 The Bride 116 The Steamer's Bell 118 Mildly the Sun 119 To my Father 120 The Spirit of Liberty 121 The Thousand Islands of the St. Lawrence 122 My Brother 124 A Burial at Sea 127 To a Monthly Pink 128 A Scattered Household 130 Sudden Storms 132 The Forgotten 133 Distant View of the River 134 The White Cloud 135 The Deserted Cottage 136 10 COITENTS. The Young Disciple Page 138 Let me Sleep 139 Hope and Fear % 140 Clouds at Sunset 141 Is it Nothing to Thee? 142 The Broken Harp 144 The Drunkard's Bride 146 Thoughts in Autumn 148 What is Submission? 150 Song to the Birds 151 Birds Wiser than Men 153 Summer Noon 154 Trial, a Blessing 155 To the Western Breeze 15C The Broken Bencil 157 Happy New Year 15S Are they Gone? 159 Angels 16i The Vine 162 The Moon 16^^ Falls in Parishville 16,- The Warning Voice 165 The Farewell 167 The Darkness of Grief 167 To Marianne 168 Adelia 169 Be of Good Cheer 171 M.W. S 172 Unspoken Gratitude 173 Send me that Flower 173 Dew Drops 175 SONGS FROM THE ST. LAWRENCE. GENIUS. Founded on an incident which transpired at the Natural Bridge in Virginia, as related by Elihu Burritt, in his ♦'Lectures on Genius." 'TwAs midday o'er that mighty arch, Which Nature's hand hath framed ; And, far beneath, the Cedar Creek Then in the sunhght flamed. In the rough channel deep below, Three rosy children stood ; Uncovered was each thoughtful brow, Beside the sweeping flood. Lo ! now, with earnest, curious eye, They read in letters deep. Name after name engraven high, Along the rocky steep. 12 SONGS FROM THE ST. LAWRE^X'E. At once tliey climb that jutting rock, Which might the bravest dare, And in rude letters carve their names Deep in the limestone there ! They all descend again, save one, — One, with a dauntless eye, Is reading, far above his own, A name engraven high. It is a name to Freedom dear, Our country's noblest son, — " My humble name — I '11 write it there, " By that of Washington !" 'Tis done — yet onward, upward still. Fast he pursues his flight. Till, from an op'ning o'er his head, Rushes a stronger light. Many have gather'd hastily. To see our hero there ; Anon, he hears the voice of praise, Or cry of faint despair ! But still he toils the vast ascent, Beyond the reach of aid ; Still for his patient, tireless feet Niche after niche is made. GENIUS. 13 He pauses — turns a look beneath ! What arm can save him now ? A dizziness comes o'er his brain, A paleness o'er his brow ! His father's hand a strong noose flings From the high archway there ; — A moment, and that slight form swings. Suspended in the air. And now the parent clasps his child. With tones of transport loud ; And mingled shouts of rapture swell From the assembled crowd. Is it not thus with those Avho climb The dangerous heights of fame. To write imperishably there A name, an humble name ? Genius must never slack his course, Nor pause to look beneath ; One reckless glance at sordid earth May bring impending death, — Unless, thou venturous boy, like thine, His Father's hand of love Send succour from the arch of heaven, And take his child above. 14 SONGS FROM THE ST. LAWRENCE, ANGEL OF HIS PRESENCE. La all their affliction he was afflicted, and the Angel of his presence saved them. — Isaiah Ixiii, 9. Christian, in the hour of sickness, When the fever'd pulse was high, Did the Angel of his presence Pass before thy languid eye ? Were his arms then laid beneath thee. Yielding pure and tranquil rest ? Was thine aching head then pillow'd On the dear Redeemer's breast ? When around thy rugged pathway Clouds were gath'ring thick and fast ; When the world seem'd cold and hollow, And thou couldst not bear its blast ; Didst thou then, amid the darkness, See a briojht, angelic form ? 'Twas the Angel of his presence, To protect and shield from harm ! When in gloomy hours of anguish Thou didst kneel beside the tomb. And, with gushing tears of sorrow, Strive to penetrate the gloom; ! the Angel of his presence Then was near, divinely near. And thou heard'st his counsels stealing, Soft as whispers, to thine ear! ONTARIO. 15 Christian, when tlie waves of Jordan, RolHng from the further shore. Fiercely surge, and dash about thee. And thou tremblest at their roar; Then, ! then, amid the darkness. One will linger at thy side ; ' Yea, the Angel of his presence Then will bear thee o'er the tide ! 1845. ONTARIO. Ontario ! thy deep-blue wave Shines in my mem'ry clear to-day; I see the shores thy waters lave In beauty stretching far away. I see the vessels on thy breast With snowy sails go speeding on ; I see the sunset kiss imprest. And stars appearing, one by one. 0! beautiful was that wild scene. And beautiful that stilly night. When o'er thy waves of glimm'ring sheen We took of late our westward flight ! In thought how oft I trace the track We made across thy smooth wave then! How oft the mind goes hurrying back, To live that evening o'er again ! 16 SONGS FROM THE ST. LAWRENCE. WOUNDING WOBDS. More fearful is their sound Than the quick, sharp, steel-bow's twanj And deadlier far the w^ound Than that of the serpent's fang ; And severer far the blow Than that of the rankling dart, Bidding the life-blood flow From the writhing, quiv'ring heart. Wounds by the pointed steel. Though deep and severe they be, We hope to see them heal, We hope for a remedy; But woe to thy frail heart. If wounded by rankhng words ! The keen and growing smart No room for relief affords ! 1844. CHILDREN DISINTERRED. Suggested by seeing four children disinterred, and placed by the side of their mother. Come, lowly ones, and take your places now Beside the mother, who so long had wept. Had mourn' d your absence with an aching brow. And eyes that stream'd Avith tears while others slopt ; CHILDKEX di^ixtj:i!j;eu. 17 Whose heart with Mem'ry ofL its vigils kept, Presenting to her e)'e each lo's'ely form, As when around her ye so lightly stept, Bidding her see once more the smiles so warm, Which o'er her evening days had shed a hallow'd charm. Come, gather round her now ! she had not thought To see you leave again your mossy tomb — But ye are rising from that sacred spot ; The turf is broken — one by one ye come ! Is it to cheer again that lonely home, From which the sunny smile with you departed ? ! I have sat beside that hearth of gloom, When at your names the fondest tears have started, And I have wept with them, the lone and broken- hearted I And now ye come ! is it to cheer the heart Of the fond father, ^vith your smiles of love ? Ye come again ! and is it to impart A gladness to the home where friends still move ? To tread the path where ye were wont to rove — Tlie path left desolate by wood and dell — ■ The wildest haunts of streamlet, and the grove ? To list again the music of their swell. Which has been sadder far since hearing your farewell ? 2 18 SONGS FROM THE ST. LAWRENCE, Nay, nay ! ye come not with the laughing eyes, And ringlets streaming in the sunny air, And bounding step, that with affection flies To meet the tender friend, and soothe his care ! Nay, nay ! ye gather slowly, sadly there. Around your mother with a silent brow. And naught can wake your wonted smiles so fair. Not e'en the richness of the sunset glow. Which now in sweetness rests on all things here below. She welcomes not her children, as they come To rest bieside her, as in days gone by ! That mother — ah ! her brow is dark with gloom, And dimness, too, hath dimly visited her eye ; Her breast no more can heave the painful sigh ! Come, rest beside her, free from grief and care. Together now in darkness sweetly lie ! Ye of the laughing lips and sunny hair. We leave you to repose in solemn silence there. 1847. NATURE'S VOICES. There are voices in the moonlight, Voices in the silent stars. Voices in the mighty ocean, Rolhng o'er its gems and spars. ANGELTC MINISTRIEP. 19 Voices all around our pathway, — 111 tlic sunlight, in the shade ; On the high and rock-crown'd mountain, In the stillness of the glade. Voices from the stately forest, And the lovely moss- cress bright ; From the broad and mighty rivers, And the streamlet murm'ring light. Voices, rising from the flow'ret Dipt in bright and pearly dew, From the floating clouds of crimson. And the skies of azure hue. Happy, happy they that listen To these teaching tones of love ! For their strange and gentle whisp'rings Would direct our hearts above ! ANGELIC MINISTRIES. I HAVE heard aroimd my pillow, When sleep's curtain gently fell. Strains of music sweetly rising. Though each earthly voice was still. Well I knew the angelic numbers, Well I knew that bright- wing'd band- For the soul, that never slumbers, Traced them to the spirit-land. 20 SOX(;S FUOM TIIIC ST. LA\YHEX(?E. ! tliey raised a song triumphant. While encompassing my bed ; xind they spread then* starry pinions Over my defenceless head ! Tell me not 'twas bnt the vision Of a poor disorder'd brain : Yonder, in a sphere elysian, I shall list those notes again. 1842. THE ANGEL VISITANT. SriE came when darkness o'er the earth was reio-nino', And Silence spread her gloomy pall around — Came, when my lonely lamp was slowly waning. And I had dropp'd my pen in thought profoimd. She sat beside me ! Busy recollection Strove to recall the semblance of that brow : It Avas the friend upon whom fond Affection Had shower'd her burning tears long years ago. I did not see her with the natural vision ; But 'twas the soul's deep eye beheld her here : She seem'd all radiant from the clime elysian, Where bliss is never follow'd by a tear. Upon that brow Avas something far more holy Than it Avas wont to wear Avhile here on earth ; And she had now exchanged her garb so lowly For (mo hoiittinQ' her oxnlted birth. THE AMGKL VlfclTAM. 'J i llow well 1 recollected the bright gleaming Of ringlets I had seen in beauty wave ! Well I remember'd, too, the dark eyes beaming, Which lost then- lustre in an early grave. But she had drank of that pure stream supersial, Wliich rises in a land more glorious, fair, And gazed upon the throne of the Eternal, Until she seem'd no more the child of care. She seem'd not as the one Avhose step of gladness VVas poised awhile on this dark earth of ours ; She seem'd not as the one who shared my sadness, Aftd wander'd with me mid the ^'crnal flowers ; Not as the one who traced with me the wending Of that bright stream which sparkles o'er the green. Or watch'd with me the solemn moon ascending To reign amid the stars, unrivall'd queen ; Not as the one who, at the hour of vespers, Knelt at my side, with eyelids deeply seal'd. To list with me the low and mystic whispers Of the Unseen, who then his love reveal'd. And yet I knew her by that sacred token Of love undying in her soul-lit eyes. Which told me early ties were still unbroken, And quite cemented only in the skies. 22 fcJONGtf FKUM Tilt: til. LAWKENCE. To my shut senses earthly care soon steahng Seem'd in harsh terms to chide my long delay ; A task forgotten to my thought revealing — JSIy angel visitant had fled away. 1S45, THE ABSENT ONE. I miss'd her in the choir, Where happy faces brightly shone As if their spirits had caught fire From an archangel's tone. Ah ! one was missing there, — One with a meek, veil'd eye, and bro\\t Which, in its solemn radiance fair, Was like the shaded snow : Whose cheek, transparent, pale, Reminded you of twilight's sky ; The flashing hues would come and fail So strange and rapidly. Where was that gentle one ? Where the, tall form so lightly frail. Which, like a tender flower half -blown, Shrank from the gentlest gale ? Tell me, thou angel choir ! Giving to God the glory due, Praisino' the everlastino^ Sire ; Tell me, Is she with you ? FALLING LEAVES. 23 FALLING LEAVES. Musing, I stand where late I stood When summer's sun was high. And the green fohage of the wood Thrill'd to the zephyrs' sigh. A few short weeks have pass'd away. And, 1 how changed the scene to-day ! Where now are all the blossoms fair, Flowers of the sunny gleam. Which grew profusely everywhere Along the forest stream ? Ah ! their brief summer-day is o'er, In these wild dells they bloom no more ! Is not our day of life as brief ? Do we not pass as soon away ? Beholdest thou yon falling leaf, Traced with the hues of dull decay ? Such is our Hfe — thus do we fade. And, falling, mingle ^vith the dead. How fast they come ! how thick they fall ! On every breeze they hurry past ! Though some look fresh, behold them all Hang trembling in October's blast ! Thus is life's tenure feebly frail, Nor can it bear death's piercing gale. 24 SOxVGS FROM rilK ST. LAWKKiNCE. One at my feet lies trembling here. Just fallen from yon leafy bough ; But, from the many myriads there, Say, woiildst thou miss the lost one now ? Thus we shall pass life's fitful scene ; And who shall know that we have been ? May not the mind its impress give To something that shall not decay? May we not bid some thought survive Long after we have pass'd away ? Yea, e'en the rustling sound that pass'd Linger'd awhile upon the blast. The soul, with all its lofty powers. Flies like the verdure of the leaf, And, like the texture of the flowers, Its garb is woven frail and brief ; Yet it transcends, in destiny, The loftiest star that burns on hiorh ! t>" THE BETTER LAND. Our earth is bright when hope and spring Their radiance o'er its bosom throw : The spirit of beaut}- on the wing Amid its landscapes seems to glow ! But there 's a land more purely bright, AVhich lies beyond ouv anxious sight, — THE BKilElO LASD. 25 A beautiful and liol}^ strand, — They call it here the " better laud." This world has treasures for the mind, Which all may grasp with eager joy, — Pleasures exalted and reiined, The' not exempt from all alloy ; But there 's a world of cloudless bliss, Of deeper, holier happiness, And tho' I here with rapture stand, I long to seek that '-better land." The earth hath many sorrows too, — Afflictions deep and trials strange, Tempests of grief and clouds of woe, Are hovermg o'er this world of change : But there 's a clime unknown to care, Forever cloudless, calm, and fair ; Time's gloomy shadows never blend Their darkness in that " better land." Here we ha^'e friends, — but soon they pass. Helpless and silent, to the grave. Like autumn leaves before the blast. Like blossoms thrown upon the wave : But there 's a clime where spirits live. Where stricken hearts no longer grieve — ■ O, what a pure and tearless ])and Await us hi that " better land I" 26 SONGS FKOM THE ST. LAWRENCE. TO A FRIEND. When wilt thou think of me ? When the stars at evening shine With a lustre all divine ; When the silvery moonlight glows Round thy pillow of repose, — Then let it be. When wilt thou think of me ? When the dawn of morning light Pierces through the shades of night, And the rajs of joy and love Fall commingling from above, — Then let it be. When wilt thou think of me ? At the sacred hour of prayer, When is hush'd each earthly care. When thou claimest at the throne Blessings for each absent one, — Then let it be. When wilt thou think of me ? When thou thinkest of a home. Far above yon starry dome. Where these fond farewells are o'er, And the just shall part no more, — Then let it be. 1 ooK. n, 'J. 27 I CORINTHIANS II, 9. Eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, neither have entered into the heart of man, the things which God hath prepared for them that love him. Hast thou an eye that loves to trace the charm That lingers here in nature's fields of light ? Say, hast thou gazed at the mild sunset calm, Until thy heart has melted at the sight ? Lov'st thou to watch, at tAvilight's sacred hour, The gorgeous cloud of many a tinted fold ? And has the moon-lit eve a sacred power To Avaken the sublime within thy soul ? Lies there a charm on the blue wave by night. Reflecting from its brow the stars above ? And read'st thou with a deep, untold delight. In nature's loveliness, a God of love ? Hast thou an ear to music well attuned. That catches each harmonious sound below. And, moving those deep chords so finely strung, Bids the rich strains of wildest music flow ? Lov'st thou the sounds which waken in the grove. Or by the streamlet at the hush of eve. When unseen hands o'er nature's harp-strings move, And garments for the soul of music weave ? Or has thy fanc}^ with enhvening rays. Pictured a world more lovely than our own ? And dost thou on the beauteous vision gaze Until thou almost murmurest to be gone ? Ne'er has thine cije beheld aught half so fair As those bright fields upon that peaceful strand ; Nor has thine ear heard aught which can compare With the rich anthems of that better land ! Nor has i\\y fancy e'er conceived the bliss Which, like a flood of light, is resting there ; Thou canst not find in such a world as this Aught like the glory that those landscapes wear. And askest th(ju, " Is that brio'ht world for me ? o Shall I behold what eye hath never seen ? Sliall I drink in that gushing melody Which thus unheard by mortal ear hath been ?" Ah ! fathom the deep fountain of tliy soul ! Do the bright gems of faith lie shining deep ? Do the rough waves of passion cease to roll, And in a pleasing silence smoothly sleep ? And is the messenger of peace — the Dove — Now brooding o'er its still and bright expanse, With the clear eye of confidence and love Directing fiir from eai'th its llea^'enward fflancc ? UKVLY TO A DVIXU iiilOTIIEi;. 2!) 'Tis well !— llien thou shalt roach tliat bhssful chme ; Then thou shalt gaze upon that glorious nver, And join the ransom'd in a strain sublime, Drinkinnf tlie sweetness of its bliss foivvei'. REPLY TO A DYING BROTHER. To the writer he said, "Come with me imtil T moot niy Saviour." Brother, I 've walk'd ^Yith thee Tliro' the green path of childhood ; but, alas ! Thou 'st reach'd the borders of a mystic sea. Thy sister cannot pass. The one so fondly dear — Whose step thou hast not miss'd in all thy way, Who shared thy transport and thy eyery tear In youth and infancy — Must now remain behind, For thou art launching upon Jordan's waye ; Divested of its garb, the immortal mind Now triumphs o'er the graye. But I am still of eartli ; Mortality has flung its garb round me. And yet my spirit feels her nobler birth. Her loftier destiny. 30 SONGS FROM THE ST. LAWRENCE, And fain would soar away With thee, blest one, to thy sweet home of bliss — how shall I, the lonely-hearted, stay In such a world as this ! When thou hast left my side, Thou guide and counsellor of my early days — Ah, thro' the path before me, cheerless, wide. Thro' tears of grief I gaze ! And dost thou Hnger now Even in the vale of death, with tender eye Directed to my own, and clammy brow. Asking beseechingly. Why I may not attend Thy footsteps thro' the dark and shadowy vale ? 1 would go with thee, my dearest friend, My spirit would not fail ; But I must tarry here ; Tliy wing is chainless — pass, triumphant one ! Thy course is upward to a holier sphere ; Mine lies beneath the sun. Nay, ask me not again, With that sweet, dying look, and voice so low ; Tliy strange request, my brother, gives me pain — Thou know'st I cannot go ! THE OLD CHAPEL. 31 But 0, thou dying one ! Thou hast a safer Guard, a surer Guide — For bright- wing'd angels from the Saviour's throne E'en now are at thy side. Adieu ! a fond adieu ! And when, hke thee, I close my beamless eye, O then, sweet brother, linger in my view, And teach me how to die ! 1848. THE OLD CHAPEL. I STOOD within the hallo w'd dome Wliere I had worshipp'd from a child ; The faces of my early home Were round me with their wonted smile. Oft had I wish'd to tread again Those sacred aisles which erst I trod. Again my holiest prayers to blend In that dear temple of my God. The boon was given, — and now I felt The glowings of those by-gone years. When at that altar I had knelt, And pour'd my supphcating tears. I thought of friends that worshipp'd there, Whose places now were vacant seen ; The young, the beautiful, the fair — How well-remember'd was their mien ! 82 SONGS Fi;uM "n[j; sr. j.aavrexce. The aged, too, with locks of snow, AVere round me with their wintry smile ; The middle-a- worth. New Year ! we turn our longing eyes to thee, Resolved, as thou shalt measure, one by one. Our moments, hast'ning to eternity. We will improve them as we ne'er have done ? Then pass along, and leave us on the shore Of this rude world, to struggle with the Avaves ; Or, ere thy fleeting moments shall be o'er, Steal our last breath, and wander o'er our 86 SONGS JbKUM IHK bi. LAWRK.NCE. 0, if our spirits' trust shall be above, Vainly tliy tempests round our patli shall roar! Our bulwark stronger than thy storms shall prove, The Lord shall be our fortress and our tower. Welcome, New Year ! thou hast a gloomy brow, And yetmethinks there 's gladness in thine eye: Come, take thy station by om' pathway now, Numb'ring our moments as they swiftly fly ! Jan. 1st, 1848. THE FIRST GRIEF. They tell us that childhood's earliest tears And sorrows are but brief — But a gloom is cast o'er future years By the first cloud of grief. I remember well, at childhood's morn, When the dewy flowers were bright, Ere sorrow had placed a single thorn Beneath my footsteps light — From my mirthful haunts I turn'd away At a sister's farewell tone, And wept that she wlio had shared my play Had left me sad and lone. And if I join'd in my brothers' mirth With laughter loud as their own, There still was sadness around our hearth — Whispering of something gone ! A LOssT SPIRIT. 87 How oft at even I roam'd abroad, When it seem'd that her oAvn mild eye Look'd down from the floating sunset cloud. In the gorgeous summer sky ! ! tell me not that childhood's tears And sorrows are but brief ; There 's darkness cast o'er coming years By the first cloud of grief. A LOST SPIRIT. We stood around the bier, And many wept a dearly loved one taken ; Yes, many a sigh and many a falling tear Bespoke a heart forsaken. And wherefore do they mourn ? A blank was at the fireside he had left, For Death stole by, at manhood's early morn, And made a home bereft. They wept that he was gone ; Mourn'd for the happy hours forever fled— Ah ! many a heart, left desolate and lone. Wept for the early dead. Tears will be shed in gloom When kindred ties by death are rudely sever 'd ; But 0, what tears shall mourn the fearful doom Of a spirit lost forever ! 88 SONGS FKUM THi: bJ . LAVVKi:.^Ci:. THE MEMUKV UF HOME. So passionately and-tleep does it steal over my heart," observed a friend, '-that often, often, -when away among strangers, have I wept \vlien the dusk of evening came on." Beside the sti-anger's hearth I wept, When twihght tliv(nigh the hittice crept ; For with each softening shade of gloom, There stole a tender thought of home. I saw again lliat fire-side briglit, All glowing in affection's light ; A father's reverend form was there, 1 heard once more Ins voice in prayer. Brothers and sisters circled round. In ties of sacred sweetness bound — A happy group at close of day, My thoughts were with them far away. My mother's song at twiliglit hour Came with its soft, subduing power, A hallowing influence round me fell, I wept with feelings none may tell. Sweet home ! tliy memories, fondly deep, Within the heart their vigils keep, Forever haunting with their tone The banished exile's pathway lone. HAVE J?AIiH I^s GOU. 80 Beneath the stranger's roof he weeps, When darkness round his foreliead creeps ; For with each sad'nino- shade of Moom o o There steals a tlnilhng thought of home. HAVE FAITH IN GOD. Mariner, on tlie sea of hfe. Are the tempests loud with strife ? Tremblest thou in wild alann, Fearful of the gatheiing storm ? He who once those billows rode, Says to thee, '• Have faith in God." Traveller ! i)i a desert way, Weary, lonely, dost thou stray, With a heart oppressed vrith fear, Shrinking from some danger near ? He who once thy pathwa}^ trod. Says, " Have faith ! have faith in God. Mourner ! bending sad and lone, O'er the death-recording stone. Weeping for the loved and blest, Who have gently sunk to rest ; He who burst from death's abode Says to thee, " Have faith in God." Afflicted one ! oppressed with pain, Dost thou of thy lot complain ? 90 SONGS FKOxM THE ST. LAWRENCE. Thiiikest thou too hard the blow, Or, too sad thy lot below ? He, who bowed beneath the rod, Bids thee still " have faith in God." Weary and desponding one, By thy dreadful crimes undone. Are thy faults still unforgiven — Calling for the wrath of Heaven ? He, who spilt for thee his blood, Tells thee to " have faith in God." Christian, dost thou dread the grave ? Fearest thou cold Jordan's wave ? As the waters nearer roll, Does their darkness fright thy soul ? He who cross'd that billowy flood Whispers now, " Have faith in God !" THE OLD ROCK. 'Twas here with my brother In childhood I played. On this white, smooth rock. In the elder's shade. This spot is the same Where we strolled side by side But alas, alas ! All has changed beside. FAREWELL lU WIMTER. 91 That fair-haired child Had a dimpled cheek, And an eye half-veiled In its quietness meek. But a fearful change Has passed over his broAv, In its youthful pride It is moldering now. And the tiny feet That in gladness roamed. Have left off their wand'rings To lie in the tomb. And his spirit has changed Since we rambled here. For it dwells in the hght Of a purer sphere. And I too have changed : I am not the child, That gathered the blossoms So joyous and wild ! Ah ! a change has passed O'er the thoughtless one. Like the earliest tints Of the flowcr^leaf gone. 92 bu:-e swell ; For in the heart's deep slirine its memories dwell 100 SONGS FROM THE ST. LAWRENCE. Fresh mid the cares tliat ckister darkly there ! What poet harp could half their sweetness tell. Or breathe the emotions melting in a tear, With which the heart looks back through many a varied year ; Back to the time when, cradled on her breast, The little heart forgot its lightsome care, And revel'd in a mother's fond caress. And listened to a mother's voice in prayer. happy hours, how sweet a light ye wear ! Even at that name, fresh thoughts of earliest love Crowd o'er the heart with images so fair, We turn from where our fond affections rove. To think of dewy hopes which first our garland wove. Home — 'tis the spot, tho' humble and obscure. Where the warm heart has cent'red all its joys, Where life's sweet sunshine falls most calm and pure : Home — 'tis the spot where pleasm-e seldom cloys, Whose sacred peace no stormy wind destroys, A place where love is made the hallowed tie. Where social sweetness rules the heart and voice : From its fair portals cold distrust may fly. And a world's tinsel'd show pass all unheeded by. rAy«iNG A WAV. 101 Heaven — ! there's something in the very sound, That breathes a hfe-draught to the fainting soul, And kindles joy, where naught before was found Save clouds of darkness in full many a fold ! Our gaze it fixes on the shining goal. The end of all our hopes and our desires, And bids the ransomed spirit oft behold The shining gates, and the celestial choirs, And fits the hand to tune our ringing, glowing lyres. Heaven — ! its portals in the sunlight gleam Of an unclouded and eternal sky ! When shall we wake from life's bewildering dream, And cease at once to suffer and to sigh ? Wake, w^here the friends we love shall never die, Beyond this stormy world's chill, wailing blast, Among the ransomed and the blest on high ; Where, when the waves of death are safely past. Heaven, Home, and Mother may be gained at last. 1848. PASSING AWAY. On the vernal flower that gleams In the sun's rich, mellow beams, With the dew-drop on its breast, Is this sad'ning truth imprest, Passing away. On the glowing forest leaf, Stamped with freshness strangely brief, 102 SONGS FROM THE ST. LAWRENCE. We may read in lines all sere. At the closing of the year, Passing away. On the flashing river's tide, Where the sportive sunbeams glide. In its rocky, winding com'se. We may list in accents hoarse, ' Passing away. Tlirough the vines around our eaves, Deep'ning through the changing leaves, Comes this vdiisper strangely sad. As the summer's glories fade, Passing away. Gleaming in their transient light. All thinrrs beautiful and brio-ht, All things dearest to tlie heart. Speak in tones that bid us start. Passing away. Sweet to think thei'e is a clime Far beyond the change of time. Whose rich scenery, sweetly fair, Never may this impress wear, Nor pass away ! THE COXSi:il'flVE. 103 THE CONSUMPTIVE. " Sister, remove that curtain towards the west. And raise my head awhile, For I would see the sun sink down to rest. With his departing smile. " Perchance it is the last sweet sunset scene That I shall gaze upon ; My life has past, even like a short, sweet dream. Its moments now have flown. '• 0, I had hoped to hve, but fain would rest ; Those hopes have vanished now : Consumption's weaiiness is at my breast — Its languor on my brow. " Ye-?, I had hoped to hve, for eaith has chaims To hold my spirit here : life has high prospects, youthful hopes are warm. And all looks bright and clear. " Yet, better far to leave a world of pain Ere it shall gain our ti-ust — Ere time has forged his strong and hea%T chain To bind om- souls to dust. *• There's one sweet thought, my sister, of the past, One thouglit of pm-est bliss That lingers with me, even to the last. And yields a soothing peace — 104 SONGS FROM THE ST. LAWRENCE. *' Early I gave my wayward heart to God, And breath'd my solemn vow ; In weakness since, this narrow path I've trod — This thought sustains me now. '' And calmly now I gaze o'er Jordan's wave Without a single fear : There is no terror in an early grave — I would not taiTy here. " The one, whose footsteps I have followed here. Will not desert me now — That Sa\'iour, methinks he lingers near To soothe my aching brow ! " Sister, I thank thee for the tender care. So long on mc bestowed : ! shall my name no more be in thy prayer. When it ascends to God ? " Nay, nay, these cares for thy sick brother dear Soon, soon shall all be o'er. And yet I would not be forgotten here, Though I shall Avake no more. " might my memory lure the hearts I love To my Redeemer's breast. And thoughts of Theron point the soul above To my eternal rest." THE DOVE. 106 He pass'd away, but yet the boon he claimed In that sad hour was given : To those who knew him here, that cherished name Is linked with thoughts of Heaven, 1843. THE DOVE. Dove, with the drooping wing, I gaze on thy plimiage softly fair, And think, as thy spreading pinions fling A radiance on the air. Of the messenger they sent From the lonely ark on the waters wide, When naught but the sea and firmament Were spreading on every side. I think of the welcome bough Brought by a beautiful one like thee. Reviving hope on the heart and brow Of the world's :48. TO MY FATHER. Who shall smooth thy hoary hairs Tn thy life's declining day ? Who shall steal away the cares Deep'ning fast around thy way ? I had thought to be thy stay In the evening of thy years ; I had thought to cheer thy way, I had thought to share thy tears. But the path of duty led To a far-off field of care ; In another sphere I tread. And another's joys I share. THE SPIRIT OF LIBERTY. 121 ! may kindred hearts as warm Scatter comforts round thee here ! Mid the darkness and the storm, May'st thou have a hght to cheer ! May thy faltering steps descend Calmty, sweetly to the tomb ! May thy great, Almighty Friend Safely guide thy spirit home ! THE SPIRIT OF LIBEHTY. The Spirit of Liberty Wakes in our vales, I hear a low melody Borne on the gales : The sound is inspiring, It rouses the free — List, list to its thrilling notes. Wild though they be ! "Awake, Columbia! Awake in thy might, While the sunshine of freedom Falls over thee bright ! *' While thy star-spangled banner Triumphantly streams. And each plume of thine eagle Refulgently gleams. 122 SONGS FROM TOE ST. LAWRENCE. *' Rouse, rouse thee, Colurab'ui ! The echoing sky To thy watchwords of freedom Shall yield a reply!" Free Men and Free Lahour, Free Speech and Free Soil, Shall be heard till the minions Of slavery recoil. Free Speech and Free Labour Each mountain and vale Shall echo, till tyrants With trembling turn pale ! Then shout for free labour, Ye millions that toil, Till the heavens shall thunder, All earth is free soil ! THE THOUSAND ISLANDS OF THE ST. LAW- KENCE. Inscribed to the Rev. P. D. Gorrie, of Ogdensburgh, at ■whose request these lines were written, while on a trip to Oswego, in July, 1848. The cloudless heavens were blue and mild. As swift we sped our watery -vVay Amidst the thousand, verdant isles Which make the bi-oad St. Lawrence gay. THE THOUSAND ISLANDS. 123 Our course was onward, mid those gems Of green which lie in beauty there, And on, and on — till day grew dim, We saw them scatter'd everywhere. Thus, thus along life's rapid stream A thousand objects tempt our sight, Which brightly in our visions gleam, O'erspread with beauty and with light. As we advance they all recede, And a broad lake before us rolls, — 0, in that fearful hour of need. One hand alone can save our souls ! If, when upon that wave we 're hurl'd, We have the Saviour at our helm, With joy we leave behind the world, And death cannot our souls o'erwhelm. Ye beauteous Isles ! ye beauteous Isles ! I learn'd a lesson from you there — Ye ever lend your choicest smiles The lonely mariner to cheer. Ye wear a look of calmness bright. That never in the storm departs — Who would not, in this world of night. Thus carry hope to troubled hearts ? 124 SOXGS FROM THE ST. LAWRENCE. "WE KNOW NOT HOW HAPPY WE ARE." *' We know not liow happy we are," Said a voice at the close of the day, As we sat where a beautiful star Was sliedding a silvery ray : So blissful and sweet were the skies above, I fancied them glowing with looks of love ; All nature with transport seem'd to thrill, Tho' the breeze was hush'd and the vine was still. " We knoAv not how happy we are," I have thought in my musings to-night : We are free from earth's festering care, And blest with unmeasured delight. Away from the world, its noise and its strife. So sweetly secluded and tranquil our hfe ; Here nothing arises our pleasures to mar — W^e know not, we know not how happy we are. MY BROTHEPx. Written on the anniversaiy of his death. Four long, long years have past Since I watch'd beside him, with a tearful eye. Night after night, and knew that he must die, And fear'd each day the last. MY BROTHER. 126 At length, as darkness fell Over the earth, he call'd us round his bed. And told us that his day of hfe had fled — Bade us a long farewell ! I almost see him now — His thin white hands were clasp 'd upon his breast, That spoke of peace — and yet of that um'est The dying only know. His forehead, white and clear, Glisten'd with gathering dews of life's last night ; But 0, that cheek and eye, how strangely bright ! 00718111112)11011 s seal was there. He spoke ; but that deep tone Scarce rose above a whisper, and a quiver Was on his lips, as when the roses shiver, Ere the white leaves are strown. He spoke of youth and hope — Of death and parting — of a home above ; Said that even then a Saviour's 'priceless love Could buoy his spirit up. He bade us weep no more. Nor grieve that he had pass'd from earth's dull care, But follow on, in faith and humble prayer, Toward that eternal shore. 126 SONGS FROM THE ST. L^VWRENCE. He ceased to speak ; and then We knelt in fervent prayer his couch beside, Committing to that sure Eternal Guide That dear, departing friend. But morning dawn'd again ; And still he linger'd, calm, serenely fair, As if etherealized for purer air By long-refining pain. The sun at noonday shone ; And o'er those features pass'd a fearful change ; That hectic cheek o-rev/ dark, and sudden, strano-e, Turn'd white as sculptured stone ! Fainter tlie quick breath grew : He murmur'd, " Pray ;" the voice of prayer arose, And when it ceased, those beaming eyes unclosed, And looJcd a siveet adieu ! Gently he pass'd away : Death left unchanged that calm and holy brow, But ! the grave has soil'd its brightness now With darkness and decay. Scarce eighteen winters' snows Had fallen around that fondly cherish'd form. Ere, like a flower that bows beneath the storm, It sunk to sweet repose. A BURIAL AT SEA. 12*7 My brother ! hast thou fled ? Thou gentle playmate of my infant years, Sweet shaier of my earliest hopes and fears, O, art thou with the dead ? It cannot, cannot be ! I see thee as in health ; thy look, thy voice — That cheerful smile, that made the heart rejoice, Is fix'd in memory. But deeper graven there Is the submission deep, the holy calm That o'er those fading features shed a charm, Serene, divinely fair. 0, sad and dismal day The day I wept above thy dying bed ; The day I saw thee number'd with the dead ; Its hours moved mournfully. Another day shall come. When I, like thee, shall lay me down to rest. When I shall meet thee, with the pure and blest. In that immortal home. 1847. A BURIAL AT SEA. Night lay upon the stormy seas, Where that lone vessel stood With banner flung upon the breeze, Above the ocean flood. 128 SONGS FROM THE ST. LAWRENCE. Thro' the dark clouds the moonbeams threw Anon a fearful glare Upon that dark ship's mournful crew^ Gather'd in silence there. They bring their dead, not for a rest In some green place of graves, But in grim ocean's fearful breast, Down mid her awful caves. Slowly they lower the lifeless form — A sullen plunge is heard, And moving sobs, amid the storm, From hearts with anguish stirr'd. One moment, and the waves close o'er, And roll with fierceness by, Mingling their thunders, as before. With the loud tempest's cry. The vessel then speeds on lier way. But sorrowing hearts are there — Keep the memorial, thou Sea, Intrusted to thy care. 1847. TO A MONTHLY PINK. What, budding now? Other flowers have long since died ; They all fell, with drooping brow, Side by side. TO A MOMHLY PINK. 129 Here thou art, Blooming in thy freshness still. Like the green hopes of the heart Naught can chill. Look abroad, — Clouds are gathering in the sky. Tempests, wailing fierce and loud, Pass thee by. Drifting snows Through the garden lanes are seen. Showing w^here the flowers repose, But thou art green. Wouldst thou teach This poor heart to wear a bloom Which the tempests cannot reach, Nor e'en the tomb ? O ! sweet flower, Thou dost whisper gentle things Of the sunshine, and the shower. And zephyr's wings. Thou dost speak Of the summer's golden hue, Of the lilac's blushing cheek. And violet blue ; 9 130 SONGS FKOM THE ST. LAWRENCE. Of the breeze. Laden with its incense meet, Trilhn^j throiioh the leafv trees, 0, how sweet I Gentle flower. Winter holdeth still his sway ; He must tyrannize his horn-, Then away. Thanks to thee ! Thou hast brought me visions bright, Of the summer's buoyancy, Free and hght. Feb., 1848. A SCATTERED HOUSEHOLD. One perish'd on the raging seas. Where the tall mast was bow'd : While death was on the startling breeze, And terror in the cloud. He made his pillow deep below The ocean's sounding waves, Where the bright pearls and corals glow In its unfathom'd ca^'es. One fell upon the battle-field, Where the war-spirit frown'd ; No kindred hand his eyelids seal'd, Or drest the fatal wound. A SCATTKKED HOUSEHOLD. 131 And one lay calmly down to die Beneath the cocoa bough ; No kindred voice, no hand was nigh, To soothe his burning brow. One in the valley of the West Adorn'd an humble lot — A happy home for child and guest, A peaceful, rural spot. She sleeps amid the forest glades, Where the Avrong'd Indians roam ; Far from her childhood's rural shades, Far from her early home. Another, and the last one, fell Beneath a southern sky ; Where soft, melodious murmurs swell. And softer winds sweep by. A scatter'd household ! who, that saw Them mingle round one hearth, Deem'd that this day would find them thus All scatter'd o'er the earth ! But thus it is— Ah ! ever thus Is our allotment strange ; And happy w^ould it be for us. Had earth no sadder change ! 132 SOxNGS iliOxM THE ST. LAWRENCE. SUDDEN STORMS. I thought to wander merrily, With the bird and sinOTio; bee, But, alas, alas ! Clouds have gather'd — winds grow chill- All is dark, and cold, and still — Hark the dismal blast ! Why do tempests ever gather In the bright and glad spring weather, When all nature smiles ? Why the sun not always shine, Cheering, with his rays divine. Fields and woody dells ? Why ? Ah soon ! how very soon, These bright and sunny days alone Would the meadows sear ; And make the little brooks shrink back From their w^inding, pebbly track, As if smit with fear ! Then let the chilly tempests gather ; Even in the glad spring weather. Let the storms rag^e wild — Quickly as they disappear, Nature's o-lowino- face shall wear A greener, sweeter smile. THE FOKOOTTEX. 133 THE FORGOTTEN. Above her grave the turf was not yet green, When he who wept so late her couch beside, Approach'd the altar with a brow serene. Leading another and a fairer bride. No more shall tears, for the belov'd one shed. Stain that fond cheek lit up with smiles so soon ; No more shall wailings o'er the early dead. In sadness steal around that marble stone. Ah, no ! another claims within that heart The place left vacant there by bui-ied love ; Another's smiles have drawn the rankling dart, And wreaths of gladness for the mourner wove. Rest, thou forgotten one ! No startling sighs Shall burden the soft zephyrs near thy tomb ; Another fills the place, by thee so priz'd. In that chang'd heart, and that deserted home. love — connubial love ! and art thou this, A flame soon smother'd in the closing grave ? A spirit vanishing with no impress Left on the lonely work, or moonlight wave ? Alas ! what fond memorial of the dead Shall earth retain when human hearts forget ? When hearts forget ! Ah, well it hath been said. That " Chanr/e on all thhns hath her signet set.^^ 134 SOXGS FROM THE ST. LAWRENCE. DISTANT VIEW OF THE RIVER. From an elevated tract in Bangor, N. Y., the St. Lawrence river can be distinctly seen at the distance of about twenty miles. Far along the blue horizon, Stretch'd in tranquil light it lay, While my eye went wand'ring o'er it, In the distance far away. Many a pleasing thought was rising, Wakcn'd by that lovely scene, Of the beauteous vales and hamlets. Of the homes that lie between. Thus the eye of Faith may venture O'er the boundary of time, Pierce the deep involving shadows Hanging o'er that mystic clime. But the heart that would be ranging Thro' those lovely skies serene. Will be ling'ring round the objects That in dimness lie between. Far along the dim horizon, Stretch'd in tranquil light it lay, While my eye went wand'ring o'er it In the distance far away. 1»48. THE WHITE C'T.OUD. 136 THE WHITE CLOUD. One snowy cloud is resting now Upon the blue sky's breast. And while I gaze, with anxious brow, I envy such a rest — Long for the peace earth may not know My soul has been in quest. Well piu-ified from stains of sin, Calm as that cloud of white. Above the world, where, all serene, The air is ever bright — Thus would I rest, when storms descend, And tempests gather might. But lo ! that cloud is floating there Into the depths of blue. The breezes, springing fresh and fair, Are wafting it from idew ; Clouds, there is not in earth, or air, A place of rest for you ! But though through space ye hiury on. And Change your motto be, This weary soul, when life is gone, Shall spread its pinions free, And rest with the unchanging One Through all eternity. 136 SONGS FROM THE ST. LAWRENCE. THE DESERTED COTTAGE. The vine, untrained, was creeping there- Round the low porch it hung, And sighing, seemed to ask for care, As in the breeze it swung. The violet, all uncultur'd, too. Grew with the daisy wild ; But with a leaf of paler blue, It bowed and meekly smiled. The twitt'ring swallow round the eaves Kept up a dismal song ; The wind blew sadly through the leaves, And sighing, died along. The green-sward in its freshness lay — The path was all untrod ; No foot had shook the dews away, Which ghsten'd on the sod. A sense of lonehness was there — I felt it as I gazed ; * It came in every breath of air, And in the sun's pale rays : *Twas not the tangled vine, nor yet The violet so fair, — Nor untrod path, with dew-drops wet — Nor breezes sighing there ; THE DESERTED COTTAGE. 137 Nor song of bird, that touched the soul With loneliness so strange, — It was a thought tliat o'er me stole — A thought of death and change. I heard the step that once rung there — The tones that cheered that spot, And saw once more the faces fair Of that deserted cot. Conversing with the past, I felt 'Twas consecrated ground, Where joy or sorroAV once had dwelt. Or love a place had found. There hope liad sweetly swelled the heart. And fear had been a guest ; There death had shot his sudden dart, And stilled the throbbing breast. And footsteps here, once echoing round, • Were hushed within the tomb, And some a watery grave had found. Far in the ocean's foam. Just as the slanting sun-rays shed Their beauty round that spot, I passed, with slow and thoughtful tread, From the deserted cot. 138 SONGS FROM THE ST. LAWRENCE. THE YOUNG DISCIPLE. She walk'd A\dtb even tread Through the -wild mazes of a reckless world ; Beauty and 3^outh were circling round her head, And Hope her flag unfurVd. She dwelt among the gay, Among a joyous and a thoughtless crowd ; And she was bright and beautiful as they, Though not of beauty proud. Her modest, humble mien Show'd that a spirit lowly, meek was hers ; Her brow was as the morn still and serene, Ere the first zephyr stirs. O ! she had cast her heart, With all its fulness, on the Saviour's breast. And found the peace Heaven can alone impart> A sure and tranquil rest. Pale sickness came at last, And she, though lovely, faded day by day, As thou hast seen a bright cloud, hurrying past, Slowly dissolve away. They laid lier down to rest. One evening, with the cold drops on her brow, And gather'd round her as the struggling breath Came fitful, faint, and slow. LET ME SLEEP. 139 She spoke in broken tones Of the blest Saviour, as her friend and guide, Then whisper'd " Farewell" to those mourning ones, And sweetly smil'd and died. Fair as a star declines, In all its brightness, but to shine elsewhere ; Thus did she vanish, thus the immortal mind Pass'd to another sphere. LET ME SLEEP. " Let me sleep," she softly said, As she meekly bowed her head With a peaceful smile ; And those eye -lids drooping low, And those lips, as white as snow. And that cold and drooping brow. Gleaming mild, Told me 'twas her latest sleep ; And the mourner bowed to weep O'er the dying one : Gentle child ! she past away Like a star at dawn of day — Like the latest sunset ray She was gone, 140 SONGS FROM THE ST. LAWRENCE. O, she slept a gentle sleep ! Yet methinks 'twas dreamless, deep, For she wakes not now ; Wild winds blow around her bed, Nightl}^ dews their incense shed Round the spot where sleeps the dead, Cold and low. 184S. HOPE AND FEAR. Hope and Fear, Strangely are ye blended here — Here in this sad world of ours. Where joy and soitow meet together. Where the gloomy storm-cloud lowers Often in the sunniest weather. Hope, thy smile Can the heart of care beguile ; Thou pointest to a flowery way. Through the distant future wending — 0, how many a joyous ray With each sunny beam is blending ! Rising Fear Sees that pathway through a tear — Beholds along the distant sky Dark and dreadful omens hover ; Hears in the wind-gust's fitful sigh Sounds that hope could ne'er discover. CLOUDS AT b L.N SET. 141 Friends are ill — Hope sees health's returning smile, Speaks of days when at the board Or the fireside we shall meet them — When, to health and friends restored. We shall joy to see and greet them. Boding Fear Sees them on the sable bier ; Beholds them clad in garments white, Hears the fearful diro-e-note swellinc:. Sees them borne beyond our sight. To their low and silent dwellmg. Hope and Fear, Strangely are ye blended here — Here in this sad world of om-s, Where joy and sorrow meet together — Here where oft a storm-cloud lowers In the biightest, sunniest weather. CLOUDS AT SUNSET. The sun in his splendour is sinking away Far down in the rose-coloured west ; The black clouds, that darken'd the sky through the day. Lie cradled in beautiful rest. 142 SOXGS FROM THE ST. LAWKE.NCE. They have chang'd their hue — all ^vhitc and serene Their banners are softly unfurl'd, Like the hov'ring pinions of angels, when seen In the light of the heavenly world. ! thus, when the sun of the Christian descends To pass with its splendor away. The dark, floating clouds of adversity lend A charm to tlic close of his day. These clouds in the light of the future all change, And put off their mantles of gloom — Like heavenly messengers, lovely and strange, They brightly encompass the tomb. IS IT NOTHING TO THEE? We were anxious to stop, after the conclusion of the sermon, as the sacrament of the Lord's Supper was to be adminis- tered. I asked a friend, one whom I thought to be a friend of Jesus also, to intercede with our company and persuade them to tarry until the services were closed. She replied in a careless tone, " O, it is nothing to me." Is it nothing to thee, that the Saviour has said, " Do this in remembrance of me ?" And nothing to thee that his blood has been shed, To wash thy pollutions away ? IS IT NOTHING TO THEE ? 143 Is it nothing to thee, that he came tVoni above, zVnd so swift to thy rescue fled ? That he left his throne on the Avings of love, To suffer and die in thy stead ? When a rebel condemned, in dark bondage to sin, Thy spirit was hopelessly bound ; Was it nothing that angels the praise should begin, Of Him, who a ransom had found ? Is it nothing that justice should sheathe his sword, When reeking in Jesus' blood ? That the risen, ascended, and glorified AVord, For thee intercedes with thy God ? If 'twas nothing tliat sundered the temple's veil, And the rocks of Judea in twain. Which burst the graves of the saints that slept, And woke them to life ao-ain ; If 'twas nothing which darkened the mid-day sun. With a shroud of tlie deepest hue, When the Saviour exclaimed, '■ It is finished, 'tis done," The scheme of salvation for you ; If all this was nothing, then well may you say, As they gather around the board, It is nothing to me, and I will not obey The words of mv crucified Lord. 144 SONGS JbKOM Tliii ST. LAWKEKCE. O, if aught could the obdurate spirit move, And stir all its depths within, 'Tis the thought of that sacrifice offered in love. To purify man from his sin. THE BROKEN HARP. A writer in the New- York Gazette, on visiting the tomb of Margaret Davidson, remarks, "On one side of the pediment Is sculptured the representation of a broken harp, with some appropriate lines." That thrilling harp is broken, Whose numbers o'er us stole, And bade entrancing sweetness To gush within the soul. Its melody was wakened By a young spirit here, Till all the world was ravished, And angels bowed to hear. That ringing harp is broken, And on the willow swings — A w^eight like death has fallen Upon the tuneful strings ; The young and lovely minstrel Has laid her down to rest, And the sunlight falls unheeded Above her peaceful breast. lliE BKOKLN llAKP. 145 But her spirit doth not slumber, Though lier harp is now unstrung ; For those messengers of Heaven, Who were hstening while she sung, Thought her numbers too entrancing For this sterile world below, And wish'd to hear them sounding Where the waves of crystal flow. That harp, that harp is broken ; But the list'ning angel choir Conveyed the minstrel's spirit, In a chariot of lire. To a clime of bliss and beauty, To a harp of sweetei- tone — They promoted tlie young minstrel To a place before the Throne. Weep not for her advancement — She was needed in the sky ; Weep not for the rent harp-strings — She has better ones on high ! And mourn not for the numbers Which were floating to thine ear, But haste, my soul, to join her Where she charms a purer sphere ! 10 HG SONGS I'UO.M Till:: ST. LAWUKNOE. THE DRUNKARD'S BRIDE. What was it 'wuke a thuuglit of her — The gentle and the beautiful ? I know not, yet fond meni'ries stir, As when the sudden zej^hyr's SAvell Takes up the leaves tliat long have lain, And makes them seem alive again. I see her as I saw her when Hope had her bridal chaplet wove ; A stranger far from youthful friends, Buoy'd up bv ever constant love : • When from her eye a something beamed, That told how fondly she had dreamed. Upon her forehead, pure and fair^ Lingered a trace of tender thought ; The soul of Jove was mirrored there — What eye could gaze and see it not ! O ! she was beautiful, and bright As spring-time's earliest, purest lig^it. i.l. T -oo V,c.r ;- ! :-•; (■■•• 1 fvr v| K'tl .\ .-I,-, II ,.J-.- ll.M ! ,.; ,>>M 11 IH.i, ll,;. Tif i't i> sj.'ii ' - >v:.> I.. ■.••• ;:-•:. ii Aim! Ill .• S.MU. ■ 11. .U.M> l...-;u, I. .\ ri^^iiii-j : [\\'-\\ .-I.l< ,..,11, p ,;.ss...l ;, And in iier snony shroud sne lay THE DKLNKAKD'a JJIUDK. 147 A look of bitterness was there Upon her still and shadowy face ; A look of deep, corroding care, Too painful for the eye to trace ; A look of woe tliat touched the heart, And bade the fount of feeling start. Some whispered that a few sad years Would bow her gentle spirit down ; Yet no complaint, save silent tears. On the meek face was ever knoAvn : They said that her's was blighting woe — Ah, who could all its bliofhtinofs know ! Who knew the weary hours she listened With beating heart the well-known tread ? The wliile her dark eye sadly glistened, And her young heart grew faint Avith dread ? And who could knoAV the pang that rent Her soul from its clay tenement ? None, save that e^^er watchful Eye Placed on the wrong'd and helpless ever — Hpqvpn hc^rd fho ^rrf, rJi-^fiT-'bino- sio-h. [\fri\i-n <:i\v r'i'f)!.i\ 'i ii|.j !i,.;,ri-s!riii'j-s --x m ! \N'..-. <-|-nsii-Ml ill. tyii M|.-.-k M.ov.Mii .I..VMI ! 148 SOJS'CiS FROM TiiE ST. LAWKEXCE. THOUGHTS IN AUTUMN. I started from a dream of bliss At Autumn's plaintive wail, vVnd each sweet thought of happiness Fled on the passing gale. That gale awakened memory's lyre To nmnbers thrilling, deep, That Autumn can alone inspire — I turned aside to weep. I thought how oft in early years I started with a sigh, And turned away to hide my tears As the cold blast swept by ; How once I wept when Autumn's tread Among my flowers I heard — Wept when I found they all had fled With each brio-ht sino'inij^ bird. More bitter now the tears I shed. But not for flowers I weep : Callistii slumbers with the dead, And Theron shares her sleep ; Hazen at length grew sick, and fell Beneath the blast of death. And Ira since has sighed " farewell," And fled from Autumn's breath. THOUGHTS IN AUTUMN. ^ 149 One left iis wlicn tlie summer's sky Was briglit, serene, and fair — When the wild flower of richest dye Shed fragrance on the air : One left us when the faded world Lay in her snowy shroud, When wintry tempests fiercely whirled Their wa}^ along the cloud. One died when the spring blossoms hung Upon the garden trees. Where the blithe swallow's anthem rung Upon the balmy breeze. 'twere a fitter time to die When Autumn flowers grow pale, And the wild wind sweeps sadly by With such a mournful wail ! But I will only ask to stay, Beneath our changing sky. Until amid this dire decay I learn to live and die : Then, if the angel Azriel bring A summons to depart. The glorious gate of heaven shall fling Its radiance round my heart. It matters not if summer bring Her load of rich perfume. 150 SONGS FROM THE ST. LAWRENCE. Or if the Autumn zepliyr sing A requiem o'er my tomb ; I shall not heed the transient mirth, In which the gay delight ; Nor shall I pause to see if earth Looks beautiful and bright. I then shall pass beyond the cares Of this inconstant life — Beyond its sorrows and its snares, Its turmoil and its strife. Then, then pale Autumn, then thy breath Shall never reach me more ; For clouds of sorrow, pain, and death O'ershadow not that shore. WHAT IS SUBMISSION ? May we not feel the chast'ning rod, And 3"et be rcconcil'd to God ? Or, must the stricken heart In a deep, pulseless stupor he, And know no grief, and heave no sigh, Nor writhe beneath the smart ? " Be calm," they say, " Be reconcil'd, " Nor weep in agony so wild — " 'Tis wronof, 'tis wronof to mourn !'* SONG TO TIIF, r.IKDS. lol My Father,, is it wrony to sii;li, When many a strong and kindi-eil tie Is from tlu' spirit torn ? Ah ! is it wrong, when passion's wave Rolls its high surges round the grave. Breaking amidst the gloom ; Can it be wrong, at such an hour, To feel its overwhelming power. And weep above the tomb ? It is not wa'ong ! Sure I may feel. Yet be submissive to the will Of Him who dealt the blow : 'Tis right to feel ! 'tis right to weep ! My Saviour Avept in anguish deep. While wand'rino- here below. o God Avill not chide me for my tears — He knows how dark the cloud appears, Which has shut out the dawn ; Full well he knows I 'm reconcil'd, And, though I weep with anguish wild, Can say, " Thy will be done !" 3. SONG TO THE BIRDS. Ye restless wand'rers through the air, Pause on your tireless wings awhile, And watch wdth me the sunset fair, And see the radiant landscape smile. 152 BONOS FROM THE RT. LAWRENOE. Come dovrn from yonder toAv'ring heig'ht, And sit ye on this spreading bough — Nay, nay ! those crimson clouds of light Allure you onward, upv/ard now. Had I your Avings, thou restless train, I would not mount those clouds of light ; 1 'd take my course more near the plain. And find some spot to me more bright. Some spot, w^here smiles, that warm the heart, Scatter their purer, richer rays ; Where crimson clouds more softlj^ float In the calm, summer evening's haze. Some spot, where long belov'd ones tread, Some sacred hamlet far away ; Quick, quick my pinions should be spread, And seek those shades without delay. In part my search would be in vain. For some I 've lov'd I might not find — Nay, nay ! my flight naught should restrain, I W seek the dwellmg of the mind ! I shall have wings, sweet birds, like you. And then I '11 find the lov'd and lost ; I '11 bid the world a long adieu. And fly to what I covet most. 1844. BIRDS WISER THAN MEN. l53 BIRDS WISER THAN MEN. The stork in the heaveu kuoweth her ai)pointecl times ; and the turtle, and the crane, and the swallow, observe the time of their coming; hut my people know not the judg' ment of the Lord. — Jer. viii, 7. Yes, the aerial songsters know The time to leave this land of ours : When chilly blasts begin to blow, And frosts of autumn scathe the flowers, How quick they spread their airy wing, And take their flight to sunnier skies — A land where sweeter flow'rets spring, And wintry tempests never rise ! They know when to return again : Swiftly they come, on wings of light. When Spring breathes sweetly o'er the plain, And earth is beautiful and bright. But O, my people, saith our God, Have not the swallow's wisdom here ; Though tempests wild come like a flood, They look not for a brighter sphere. When storms of sorrow beat around. And judgments are in mercy given, Their souls, still clinging to the ground, Refuse to seek their native heaven. 154 SOXGS FROM THE ST. LA^yREXOE. O, wretched man, how frail thy boast ! Wert tliou not form'd for nobler ends ? Arouse thee, ere forever lost ! The birds' tin- wisdom now transcends ! SUMMER NOON. 8till and glassy lies the river In its sultry light ; Not a leaflet deigns to quiver O'er its bosom bright, Not a breath of air awakens In the hazy sky ; And the brooklet is forsaken — Tuneless, drear, and dry. Summer noon, thy hours are weary To the human heart ; And, though all may seem more dreary When the cold winds start ; Yet there 's not this morbid weakness Hanging o'er us then, For the heart can bear the bleakness Of stern Avinter's reio-n. o Thoughts awake with the wild ringing Of the* stormy wind ; Tempest clouds are ever bringing Freshness to the mind. TRIAL, A BLESSING. 155 But the siminier's noon-tide fervour Sears the soul withm ; Thought Hes hke a turgid river — Not a wave is seen. 1848. TRIAL, A BLESSING. Blessed is the man that enclureth temptation : for when he is tried, he shall receive the crown of life, which the Lord hath promised to them that love him. — James i, 12. Blessed indeed are they, Who in the evil day Stand firm against temptation's wily power ; Who on that God rely That rules the world on high, And can support them in the trying hour. Blest Avith the Saviour's love, Who " hides their life above," And fill'd with peace that earth can ne'er bestow ; With Jesus for their guest. How joyfully they rest. Though storms of sorrow o'er their pathway blow. And blest, when life shall close. With triumph o'er their foes, They shall arise, released from worldly strife — Released from earthly chains. From cares, and griefs, and pains, Wliich throno- them now alono- the way of life. 15G SONGS FROM THE ST. LAWRENCE. And in the world above, That dime of light and love, Millions shall welcome them at last to rest ; And Jesus shall appear, Jesus their friend most dear, To crown his servants, and pronounce them blest. 184S. TO THE WESTERN BREEZE. Sweet western breeze — sweet western breeze. Now sobbing faintly througli the trees. Pause on your fleety pinions here, And brush away my falling tear ! Say, hast thou pass'd that spot afar Where the belov'd of childhood are ? When didst thou wave those homestead trees ? When wast thou there, sweet western breeze ? Say, wert thou there at morning's daAvn ? Or, later still, when eve came on ? And did thy breath, around those eaves, Then gently stir those lattice leaves ? ! didst thou catch those tones of love Which follow me where'er I rove ? Still sobbing faintly through the trees. Thou answerest not, sweet western breeze. THE UIKJlvExN I'EInCIL. 157 THE BROKEN PENCIL. Emma gave rae, wlien wc parted, This small gilded pencil here ; She was cheerful and light-hearted, And we thought not of a tear. Now I 'm weeping o'er the token Of her friendship and her love ; For its glittering case is broken. Like the heart I did not prove. AVorthless thing ! thou hast deceived me. Proved my confidence in vain — Like the friend I loved so dearly, But may never trust again. Tender friends— how high we prize them, How we weep when they are dead ! But to see the world despise them. Is by far more darkly dread. And to feel the spell is broken Which has bound them to our heart — 'Tis a feeling none have spoken, When they saw the loved depart. Choice memento ! fittest emblem Of the heart I thought so pure ! Emblematic of the friendship Which I thought must long endure. 158 SONGS FROM THE ST. LAAVREXCE. Thou art broken, fragile charmer, Like the friend my heart lield dear ; Cast aside, neglected lying, Fast thy beauties disappear. Emma ! 0, the love I 've borne thee Costs me many a blush of shame ! From my bleeding heart I 've torn thee, Cast aside thy tarnish' d name ! HAPPY NEW YEAR. Suggested by hearing a friend say he had found the Xew Year, but was in search of the Haj)py. Surely, thought I, 'tis this, 'tis this — A thirst for earthly happiness — Which prompts our search below ; A something lurks within the breast Which pants for happiness, for rest, That earth cannot bestow. To-day how many hearts beat high With hopes as bright as yonder sky, With dreams of earthly bliss ! 'Phvo' p]pR.cnrp'« path? \hr\' ijik'^ rhoir w^v. And. Hlc.- iiiv frwui\. tlii,< V.mx - V'.-.,- "> .Imv. Th^-.- s»-;ii<-li r«>r li;. f»|iiii">s. '>nv*fir. And on they press to giasp the piize AKE THEY COSE f 159 And lo, 'tis onward still I Vain, vain tlieir search ! Tli' immortal mind No earthly happiness can tind, Its mighty ^'oid to hll. Delusive dream ! These long-sought joys Are naught but empty, fleeting toys, Like bubbles on the wave : A moment they allure us here, Then rapidly they disappear, And perish in tlie grave ! 1841. AEE THEY GONE ? A LONG-ABSENT friend sat down by our hearth, And I saw a deep shadow of gloom Pass over his brow, as he spoke, with a sigh, Of those dear ones Avho sleep in the tomb. "Are they gone?" he exclaim'd, and his voice was so sad That it moved the deep fountains of grief ; They burst from concealment, and bitterly flow'd. Till my bosom e>xperienced relief. Tm' ..im- .-iivl.'. .1 -.•! l.-.i Ml. I l.'ii.-. .\^ it' ii-;- ^^■-•^l|^vt'iil irifiii — Can it be, can il be ihey are gone ? 1(30 SONGS FKO-Al lilK bi. LA WHENCE. That evening remembrance presented to view Each form and each featm-e so plain, That it seem'd my dear brothers had "vvaken'd from death, And encircled our fireside again ! I saw them — I saw them ! The first one, who fell With a forehead so tranquil and fair. And the dju-k eye, whose lustre was caught from above, With the look which the glorified wear : As calmly he smiled as when this was his home, And his voice had the same gentle tone — I saw him, I heard him beside our lone hearth — How could I believe he had gone ! The one Avho soon follow'd, the next to depart. The youngest, whose cheek was so bright Ere Death's fearful signet was placed on his brow, Where it glisten'd so pearl-like, so white : — He was there with that smile of affection so warm. Which in sickness and health ever shone ; The light of his cheerfulness gladden'd my heart, And I could not believe he was gone. And the other was with us — the last one who fell. The last one who sunk to the tomb ; The last one who whisper'd a solemn farewell. And enter'd the mansions of p'loom ! AKOEL?^. 161 So late, that it seems like a dream of the night, Which on wings of tlie morning has flown — How can I believe that he sleeps in the grave ! How can 1 believe he has gone ! They are here, they are here ! Say, have ye not heard That the pure and the blest often come With a message of love from the heavenly land. And as guardians to pilot us home ? Ye spirits of Paradise ! say, are ye here To fill up the circle so lone ? ^ O, let me believe ye are hovering near. For I sorrow to think ye are gone I 1845. ANGELS. Angels from their native bowers. On their starry pinions. Come to this sad world of ours. Search its dark dominions. And where'er contrition's sigh 'Scapeth from the lowly, They are sure to linger nigh With a transport holy. And wherever faith is found In the heart upspringing, Those bright hosts encamp around„ Joy and solace bringing. t 11 162 S0NG9 FROM THE ST. LAWRENCE. Where the mother rocks her child, In its cradle sleeping, Watches its soft dreaming smile, There their wings are sweeping. Sweetly, fondly do they lend Solace to the weary ; On the steps of age attend, Make its path less dreary. And they linger by the side Of the sick and dying, Who in Jesus' love confide, Readv wing'd for flying. I860. THE VINE. I SAW my brother tear away a vine, Which had been clinging to our garden-tree : Up to the branches closely did it twine. And yet he tore its little rings away ; And on the ground its wither'd tendrils lay : Pressing the damp earth o'er its clusters then, Before I ask'd the cause, I heard him say. That had he left it to the wind and rain, It would have never lived to see the Spring again. And thus, methought, our Father tears away Our fondest hopes, which cling so close below. And in the dust doth our affections lay : illH MOl»X. 103 Lest the dark storms of sorrow, grief, and woe. The surly blasts that here in darkness blow, Should blight tli' immortal part, that fain would rise. He makes us sleej^ in death, and slumber low, Till softer air breathe o'er our radiant skies. And in eternal Spring these deathless souls arise. 1847. THE MOON. How sweetly the moon, in her silvery light, Looks down on this beautiful seene ! All nature seems smiling more peaceful to-night, And the earth and the trees are more green. 0, the sweet, placid moon ! her burnishing rays Are glad'nino- the earth with delis^ht ; She has caught those beams from the king of day. To light up our shadoAvy night. Thus, when some earthly attraction shall lend A charm to our pathway below ; When the rays of gladness and hope shall blend In their brightest and holiest glow ; Thou sweet, placid moon, we will think it like thee ! Though it ravish our hearts with delight, It has borrow'd its beams from the Ruler of day, From the Fountain of beautv and lis!"ht ! 164 SONGS FROM THE ST. LAWTvE.N'CE. FALLS IN PARISHVILLE. 'TwAS pleasant on those sloping banks, Down by that rushing tide, To watch, at daylight's ebbing hour. The foam- crests roughly glide : High rocks were piled on either side. Along that sounding shore ; And, while we gazed, e'en thought was lost In the tumultuous roar. How beautiful that lovely night, The wave, the earth, the air ! My spirit revel'd deep in bliss While I was standing there ; It drank the sweetness of that scene, The sweetness of that hour. And, list'ning to the foam- white waves, Felt all tlieir music power ! ! I have gazed on many a scene. Which might have been as bright ; But never had my heart before So kindled at the sight ! Ne'er had I felt the rapt'rous awe. That so entranced my soul. Bidding successive waves of bliss In swoofnf'ss o'er me roll ! THE WAKM^G VOiCii;. 10< What was the cause ? what was it gave Such brightness to this scene ? Which made the wave more musical, The landscape more serene ? !Not that my heart at once had caught An answerinif, echoino- tone — A feeling more poetical Than it before had known : Nay, but a hand was clasp'd in mine, A heart was beating near, That made this scene of lovehness A robe of splendour wear ! An eye was gazing then Avith mine, Which kindled at the sight ; Making the scene more beautiful, More gloiious and bright. THE WARNING VOICE. Hark ! a mystic voice is calling Soft and low, And a gloom is round me falling — I must go ! 1 must go in j^outh's bright morning, When my sky is clear ; For this strange, strange voice of warning X(nv is in mv ear. 166 SO>.'Gb IKUM THE 81. LAVS'KExNCE. Eartli looks brig-ht, and hopes are beaming All around my way ; And my spirit has been dreaming Of a longer stay. But this restless, liigh ambition, And this hope sublime, May not yield their full fruition On the shore of time. And the lofty thoughts aspiring, Rano-ino- unconfined ; And the quenchless, deep desiring Of tlie immortal mind — Say, must these be quench'd forever In an early tomb ? They will never, never, never Be eclipsed in gloom. Earthly friends must shortly fail me. Earthly hopes must die, But far truer friends will hail me In a holier sky. Hiirk ! tliat mystic voice is calling- Soft and low ; Death's dark mists arc round me falling— I must go ! THE DARKNESS OF GRIEF. 16'7 THE FARETOLL. Go — may Israel's God protect thee. Mid the dangers of thy way ! Go — may angel guides direct thee, Wheresoe'er thy footsteps stray ! Go — may Jesus' arm be round thee. May his strength still be thine own ! Go — may the sweet ties that bound thee, Draw thee closer to his throne ! Go — may angel, wings be o'er thee. And their brightness on thy brow ! Go — the Spirit go before thee, With the light which cheers thee now ! Go — th' Almighty's arms enfold thee, And his grace to thee be given ! Go — I shall, I shall behold thee Once aofain in earth, or heaven ! 1847. THE DARKNESS OF GRIEF. She goeth unto the grave to weep there.'" — The Bible. I saw her kneel beside a grave, Where the fresh earth was strewn : "JVas at the stilly hour of eve. When the rich sunset shone — IQ8 SONGS FKUM IHK »T. LA WHENCE. Shone calmly from the crimson west, In floods of pleasing light ; But ah ! it stream'd upon a breast. That mov'd not at the sight. No secret charm her spirit caught From the mild beaming sky ; And the soft breeze, with odours fraught, Awaken'd but a sigh. The flower, in whose unfolding cup The tear drops fell like rain, From the green sod look'd calmly up, To claim one glance in vain. How dark, thought I, must be the grief, Which veils e'en nature's charm ! When Avind, and sky, and verdant leaf, And the bright sunset calm, No more can wake the echoing chords Within the human breast, — Ere such a grief shall veil my soul, 0, let me be at rest I TO MARIANNE. Sister, as the clouds of even Float along the w^estern sky, And the coimtless stars of heaven Lift their glimm'ring tapers high : 100 Dost thou thiiik of bright immortals, Past into the spirit laud ? Dost thou, through its dazzling portals See the white rob'd millions stand ? O ! 'tis sweet, as shades are stealing O'er the earth and o'er the sky — All those splendid orbs revealing, Which bestud the arch on high ; It is sweet then to be dreaming Of that fairer, holier clime, '/"' Whose immortal light is streaming O'er the shadowy bounds of time. It is well, when we arc weary, That the power to us is given, To look up, through shadows dreary, To the blessed clime of heaven. Let us live, so live, that ever Heaven's bright gates may be in ^iew And, when hfe's worn bands may sever, We shall pass tiiumphant through. 1648. ALELIA. She died as the first violets wak'd to life, AVhile woods with Spring notes ringing, And brooklets wildly singing, Made all with beauty, joy, and music rife. f/ 170 SONGS FROM THE ST. LAVVRE^'CE. She died, the fairest flow'r that op'd to day. Died in the spring time's brightness, Died in her young heart's hghtness, While all conspir'd to ask her longer stay. When parent hearts their richest benison gave, Their fondness lavished o'er her, And strew'd the way before her With flowers which since have perish'd on her grave. How sad to see the young buds early droop. And pale before us lying, In all their fragrance dying — The buds of intellect, the germs of hope ! But sadder far 'twould be, if no bright ray, From yonder gates of light, Stream'd to our anxious sight, Turning our tho'ts from Time's dark shore away. O ! ye, who mourn for fair Adelia gone. Whose hearts with pain are riven. Look up to yon bright heaven — There lives in fadeless light your darling one ! Be it your highest care to find the road To her sweet home of gladness.. Beyond the reach of sadness, And she will hail you to her blest abode ! BE Ui<' GOOD CHEER. l7l BE OF GOOD CHEER. *' Be of good cheer : I have overcome the icoi'hl." John xvi, 33. Cheer up, my followers in this vale of tears, Ye with crush'd hearts, and step desponding slow ; Behold, the day-star in your sky appears, And morn has dawn'd upon your night of woe. Dread dangers will bestrew your pathway here, iVnd trials dark, and intricate, and blind ; And ye will oft, amid your doubt and fear, Scarce venture on the narrow way to find. Clouds of dismay may thicken o'er your path, And demon voices haunt you midst the gloom ; The world and sin oppose witli fiery wrath, And darkness dense seem gathering round the tomb. Yet bear in mind, I 've overcome tliem all, — I, your Redeemer, and your Friend, and Guide : Before my mighty arm each foe must fall. And o'er the world thou may'st ^dctorious ride. I overcame the tempter's wily power, I triumph'd over sin, and earth, and hell ! Yea, more than conqueror — in one awful hour The massive bars of death before me fell. 172 aO^Oto iKUM HIE bl. LAWRENCE. Then let your hearts be cheerful as ye tread The narrow way, and bear the piercmg blast For sure as your Redeemer groan'd and bled, So sure shall ye o'ercome the world at last. M. W. S. There was a voice so sweet, A smile so bright around that hearth. That angels from their blissful seat Sped down to earth ; Watch'd o'er her dreams awhile, Shadow'd her brow with wings of love, Then flew, a\ itli the pure, lovely child, To realms above. They saw the flower was frail, And that the world was sterile, bleak ; They took it ere a piercing gale Should blanch its cheek. Ye, who have mourn'd the child, Ye, from whose eye tlie sad tear starts, Be thankful that she ever smil'd Upon your hearts. Think ye have rear'd a flower Too purely beautiful to stay ; A plant which blooms in Heaven's higli bower, Bevond decav I SKNU Ml". THAT ITOWKK. 173 UNSPOKEN GRATITUDE. She did not speak her gratitude, But, with a tearful eye, Press'd her vv^arm, glowing lips to mine In grateful fervency. She laid her hand confidingly And gently in my own ; Her blue eyes spoke thro' glist'ning tears- HoAv eloquent their tone ! T understood their import deep. Their magic struck my heart ! The o-ratitude which Mows so warm, Disdains the words of art. 0, Father ! shall a creature come With grateful tears to me. And I neglect to offer up ^Tv jxratitude to thee ? . ^ SKND ME THAT FLOWER. Send me that long-promised flower From thy forest home in that western glade : Aye, send me one that has grown in the shade, Where, in musing, thy footsteps have often stray 'd, And where in gladness thy childrei^. have play'd At the beantifid twilidit hour. 174 SONGS FROM THE HI'. LAW'RENf'E. And what thougli it fade on the way? It will be the same flower that so sweetly sprung Thine oa\ti green valleys and woods among, Where the western birds their wild notes simg, And the ^vilder laugh of thy children rung, From mom till the close of day. I will gaze on the faded leaf, And think of the loved who so early died. And others now wandering far and wide ; I will think of the 'place where, side by side. We witness'd the rapid moments glide — 0, were they not far too brief ! I will think of the days that are gone ; I -will think of the flowers that you taught me to love, Of the roses we gather'd, the garlands we wove, Of the pathway thy footsteps were wont to rove. By the garden, the streamlet, the meadow, the grove — That path is deserted and lone. Thou knowest that death has been here ; Then I need not have told thee our pathway was lone, That the wind wanders by with a sadder moan. And that many a smile and joyous tone From our pensive hearth has forever gone, Which so often our hearts used to cheer. DEW-DROPS. 1Y6 ! then, let us think of that better land, Where we '11 meet the blest friends who have gone before To that happy home, on that brighter shore — For these partings and sighings will all be o'er, And the blooming cheek shall fade no more, When Ave greet that angel band ! send me that promised flower From thy forest home in that Avestern glade ! But let it be one that bloom'd in the shade Where thou, in thy musings, hast often stray'd. And where in their gladness thy children play'd At the beautiful twilio-ht hour. 1844. ^ DEW-DROPS. We have fallen on the green sward. Where the happy children play, Where their feet, in sportive gladness, * Early shook our pearls away. We have lain upon the blossoms When they gather'd them at morn ; We have kept them bright and glowing, Some sweet bosom to adorn. We have ghsten'd at the bridal With the brilliant and the fair ; When the solemn vow was utter'd. We were faintly trembling there. 1*76 SONGS FKOM IHi: ST. ],AAVKENCK. We liave gleam'd upon the roses, In their sweetest fragrance spread, By the hand of pure affection, On the bosom of the dead. Ye have seen us, changed to vapour, Soft on airy pinions roam — Floating, hke a gauze of silver, Through the bright, cerulean dome. We have glitter'd high in heaven, In the rainbow's arch di^^ne — In the saddest place, and brightest. We are ever seen to shine. THE END. C 32 89 .!■ "^oV* ' -e^-o* \p L. -^0* •J ^^-^^^ IN * -^t.. •^v ^ ♦ ^ ^/ .