For his wide and glittering cloak of snow,
Protects the seeds of life below;
Beneath his mantle are nurtured and born
The roots of the flowers-the germs of the corn.
The whistling tone of his pure strong breath
Repurging the vapours of pestilent death:
I love him, I say, and avow it again,
For God's wisdom and might show well in his train.
But the naked-the poor! I know they quail,
With crouching limbs from the biting gale:
They pine and starve by the fireless hearth,
And weep as they gaze on the frost-bound earth.
Stand nobly forth, ye rich of the land,
With kindly heart and bounteous hand;
Remember 'tis now their season of need,
And a prayer for help is a call you must heed.
A few of thy blessings, a tithe of thy gold,
Will save the young and cherish the old;
'Tis a glorious task to work such good:
Do it, ye great ones! Ye can, and ye should.
He is not worthy to hold from heaven
The trust reposed, the talents given,
Who will not add to the portion that's scant,
In the pinching hours of cold and want.
Oh! listen in mercy, ye sons of wealth,
Basking in comfort and glowing with health;
Give whate'er ye can spare, and be sure
He serveth his Maker who aideth the poor.
THE OUTCAST BOYS OF ENGLAND.
The following Lines on this subject, were written by a Friend, in his eightieth year.
THE outcast boys of England,
A poor degraded race,
Bereav'd, despis'd, discarded,
Proud England's dark disgrace.
A plague-spot on her banner,
That blazons her high fame,
A tale of ills, which sullies
Victoria's royal name.
The angel form of virtue,
To them has not appear'd,
Religion's holy unction,
Their hearts has never cheered.
No tender accents soothe them,
No tear for them is shed,
From childhood's hours of sorrow,
To manhood's ardent prime,
They grow from guile and mischief
To mad and murderous crime.
For life or death unfitted,
They bear the felon's brand,
Till swept away unpitied,
As nuisance of the land.
Dark, wretched, and polluted,
To chains or exile driven,
Or to the world of spirits
Uncleansed and unforgiven.
Friends of the poor-who know them,
Their frailties, woes, and wrongs,
Protect, invite, instruct them-
Το you the work belongs.
They boast a land and lineage,
Renown'd for nerve and mind,
Oh! foster them, and they will make,
Fair models of their kind.
Apt pupils they for all things,
For evil or for good,
Then give them wholesome portions
Of intellectual food;
Show them the guiltless pleasures
Which useful knowledge brings—
What true unsullied freedom
From social order springs;
That blooming health is innate
Where temperance makes abode;
That industry stout-hearted,
Bears riches in his load.
Show them Creation's glories,
Its wonders, treasures, charms,
Nurse every thought and feeling
Which elevates and warms.
Teach them the heavenly mandates
Of justice, mercy, peace;
Point their young hopes and visions
To realms where sorrows cease;
Treat them with care and kindness,
Train them to truth-and then
The outcast boys of England
Will rise up noble men!
Yea, minds supremely gifted
In science, art, and lore,
And hearts of lofty virtue
To deeds sublime will soar.
HURRAH FOR THE MIND-MARCH!
HURRAH for the Mind-March! the music
That stirs among nations of brave;
That wakes them to war by the spirit,
And sets up the soul o'er the glaive!
That sheaths the old sword of the tyrant,
To revel in peace with the free;
And calls upon truth as its syren
To warble in liberty's tree!
Oh, Mind leapeth forth from her scabbard,
More bright than her weapon of blood!
And weddeth her strength unto justice,
And getteth her glory from good!
Hers, hers is the battle of heaven,
That staineth not corn-field or wave-
The people's true music loud given,
To stir up their nations of brave.
THE REIGN OF VIOLENCE IS O'ER.
THROUGH the silence over head
An angel with a trumpet said-
For evermore! for evermore!
The reign of violence is o'er !
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