Deeper, deeper, let us toil In the mines of knowledge; Nature's wealth, and learning's spoil, Win from school and college; Delve we there for richer gems, Than the stars of diadems.
Onward, onward, may we press Through the path of duty; Virtue is true happiness, Excellence true beauty; Minds are of celestial birth, Make we then a heaven of earth.
Closer, closer, let us knit
Hearts and hands together, Where our fireside comforts sit In the wildest weather; Oh they wander wide, who roam For the joys of life, from home.
Nearer, nearer, bands of love Draw our souls in union, To our Father's house above To the saints' communion. Thither every hope ascend, There may all our labours end.
BUT if there be one attribute divine, With greater lustre than the rest can shine, "Tis goodness, which we every moment see, The Godhead exercise with such delight.
It seems, it only seems, to be The best belov'd perfection of the Deity, And more than infinite.
Without that, he could never prove,
A proper object of our praise or love. Were he not good, he'd be no more concern'd To hear the wretched in affliction cry,
Or see the guiltless for the guilty die, Than Nero, when the flaming city burn'd, And weeping Romans o'er its ruin mourn'd. Eternal justice then would be But everlasting cruelty:
Power unrestrain'd, almighty violence And wisdom unconfin'd, but craft immense. "Tis goodness constitutes him that he is, And those
Who will deny him this,
A God without a deity suppose.
When the lewd atheist blasphemously swears By his tremendous name,
There is no God, but all's a sham, Insipid tattle, praise and
Virtue, pretence, and all the sacred rules Religion teaches, tricks to cully fools,-
Justice would strike the audacious villain dead, But mercy boundless saves his guilty head; Gives him protection, and allows him bread. Does not the sinner, whom no danger awes, Without restraint his infamy pursue,
Rejoice, and glory in it too;
Laugh at the power divine, and ridicule his laws, Labour in vice, his rivals to excel,
That when he's dead, they may their pupils tell, How wittily the fool was damn'd, how hard he fell Yet this vile wretch in safety lives,
Blessings in common with the best receives,
Tho' he is proud t' affront the God those blessings gives. The cheerful sun his influence sheds on all,
Has no respect to good or ill;
And fruitful show'rs without distinction fall, Which fields with corn, with grass the pastures fill.
The bounteous hand of Heav'n bestows Success and honour many times on those, Who scorn his favourites and caress his foes.
To this good God, whom my adventurous pen Has dar'd to celebrate
In lofty Pindar's strain;
Tho' with unequal strength to bear the weight Of such a pond'rous theme, so infinitely great; To this good God, celestial spirits pay, With ecstacy divine, incessant praise, While on the glories of his face they gaze, In the bright regions of eternal day. To him each rational existence here, Whose breast one spark of gratitude contains, In whom there are the least remains
His tribute brings of joyful sacrifice,
For pardon prays, and for protection flies: Nay, the inanimate creation give,
By prompt obedience to his word,
Instinctive honour to their Lord;
And shame the thinking world, who in rebellion live. With heav'n and earth, then, O my soul, unite, And the great God of both, adore and bless, Who gives thee competence, content, and peace, The only fountains of sincere delight. That from the transitory joys below, Thou by a happy exit, may'st remove
To those ineffable above:
Which from the vision of the Godhead flow,
And neither end, decrease, nor interruption know.
[CAROLINE FRY.]
ACROSS a trackless sea I saw the vessel glide-
The pale moon's tranquil beam Was playing on the tide;
But the way she came was dark, Ere she reached the partial glean, And dark her way again,
When past the silvery stream.
And is it then so brief Thy pleasure's golden day? While all thy path beside Is a dark and dreary way!
Not so. Though dark and drear May seem thy course to me, As if it loved thy path,
The bright beam follows thee.
And thou art gliding on, Unmindful of thy gloom; It all is fair to thee, For thou art going home.
And be my path like thine In this world's midnight way, Where nought but love divine Can light it into day!
Though seen in shadows oft, And veiled with many a tear, My path will still be brigh If love and peace be there.
Though doomed through many a night
Of anious care to roam,
It all is fair to me,
For I am going home.
As o'er the past my memory strays, Why heaves the secret sigh? "Tis that I mourn departed days, Still unprepared to die.
The world, and worldly things beloved, My anxious thoughts employed; And time unhallowed, unimproved, Presents a fearful void.
Yet Holy Father! wild despair, Chase from my labouring breast; Thy grace it is which prompts the That grace can do the rest.
My life's brief remnant all be thine : And when thy sure decree
Bids me this fleeting breath resign, O speed my soul to thee!
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