CHILD of the flowing locks and laughing eye,
Culling with hasty glee the flow'rets gay,
Or chasing with light feet the butterfly;
I love to mark thee at thy frolic play.
Near thee I see thy father stand;
His anxious eye pursues thy roving track, And oft with warning voice, and beck'ning hand, He checks thy speed and gently draws thee back.
Why dost thou meekly yield to his decree?
Fair boy, his fond regard to thee is known;
He does not check thy joys from tyranny-
Thou art his loved, his cherished, and his own.
When worldly lures, in manhood's coming hour,
Tempt thee to wander from discretion's way,
Oh! grasp not eagerly the offered flower;
Pause, if thy heavenly Father bid thee stay.
Pause, and in Him revere a friend and guide,
Who does not willingly thy faults reprove;
But ever, when thou rovest from his side,
Watches to win thee back with pitying love.
MRS. ABDY.
THOUGHTS ON GOD.
I READ God's awful name emblazoned high
With golden letters on the beauteous sky:
No less his glorious character I see
Wrought in each flower, inscribed on every tree:
In every leaf that trembles to the breeze,
I hear the voice of God among the trees;
In every creature own his forming power,
In each event his providence adore.
Thy hopes, O Lord, shall animate my soul,
Thy precepts guide me, and thy fear control;
And when the last, the closing hour draws nigh,
And earth recedes before my fading eye,
Teach me to quit this transitory scene,
Looking to Jesus, with a heart serene :
Teach me to fix my ardent hopes on high,
And having lived to Thee-to Thee to die!
SAID TO HAVE BEEN WRITTEN BY A LUNATIC ON THE WALL OF HIS CELL.
COULD we with ink the ocean fill,
And were the skies of parchment made,
Were every stalk on earth a quill,
And every man a scribe by trade :
To tell the love of God above,
Would drain the boundless ocean dry;
Nor would the scroll contain the whole,
Though it were stretched from sky to sky.
JESUS TEACHING THE MULTITUDE.
How sweetly flow'd the gospel sound
From lips of gentleness and grace,
When listening thousands gathered round,
And joy and reverence fill'd the place.
From heaven He came of heaven he spoke,
To heaven He led his followers' way;
Dark clouds of gloomy night He broke,
Unveiling an immortal day.
"Come wanderers to my Father's home,
Come all ye weary ones and rest!"
Yes, gracious Saviour-we will come-
Obey Thee-love Thee-and be blest.
"Be still and know that I am God."-Psalm xlvi. 10.
I COME to Thee, almighty God,
For grace to bow beneath thy rod,
To acquiesce in all thy will,
And learn th' important words, "Be still."
Thou seest my feeble frame opprest;
In vain my spirit sighs for rest;
But, Lord, perform thy holy will,
And teach thy servant to "Be still."
Thou know'st how wayward is my mind,
While all thy ways are just and kind;
Oh! make me love thy holy will,
And bid thy servant to "Be still."
WHAT! pass'd the bound'ry of another year,
Unmix'd with sorrows, and unmoved with fear!
Hath death as yet withheld his solemn doom,
Nor lodged this body in the silent tomb?
Around, whilst thousands have been swept away,
And their frail forms been mingled with the clay.
While infant youth and those of riper age,
Stand register'd upon the funeral page-
On every side whilst friends and neighbours fall,
And hasten at the King of terrors' call,
Have I, in mercy and in grace, been spared,
My frame not injured, nor my health impair'd?-
'Tis even so: to-day time's rapid flight
Upon my birth revolves its annual light:
This day, my natal day! in health I stand,
Kept and supported by a mighty hand!
Oh! then, my soul, reflect upon the past,
Consider well wherein thy lot is cast;
Call home thy thoughts, thy words, and works survey,
Scan every action of each wasted day.
When reason bids thee, with her wise behest,
To scrutinize the motions of thy breast,
Turn not away-obey her call through choice,
And own that reason's call is wisdom's voice;
Be these the words, the test, by which to prove
If God regards thee as a child of love :
Has the past year, on each succeeding day,
Beheld me walking in God's righteous way ?
Has every foible and besetting sin
Suffer'd a holy violence within?
My heart distemper'd, and my thoughts impure,
Have I applied to these the only cure
For sin and for uncleanness, Jesus' blood,
Pour'd freely forth, and streamed a sacred flood?
Behold yon fountain spring! there stands engraved,
"Pure is the man that in this fount has laved!"
Am I thus blest?-oh, have I truly been
Seeking this fountain, that I may be clean?
Oft as the morning usher'd in each day,
Have I been led before my God to pray?
Oft as the evening shades invite to rest,
Has deep devotion kindled in my breast?
My will controll'd, my passions all subdued,
Have pure and hallow'd thoughts my mind imbued?
Whene'er by doubtful sentiments perplex'd,
My darksome mind, lay discomposed and vex'd.
Have I then open'd God's revealed word,
And to those oracles of truth referr'd?-
A sacred lamp! which, ever burning bright,
Dispelleth darkness, and diffuseth light!
Pause, O my soul, this day which gave thee birth,
And rank'd thee as a tenant of the earth-
Pause and enquire, herein is conscience clear?
Has this rule sway'd thee, through the by-gone
year?
Conscience upbraids, sore troubled is the heart,
That long has acted a neglected part.
O God! forgive a sinner's blind career,
Grant him henceforth a heavenly course to steerTeach him thy ways, thy heavenly word to read, And on the "living bread" of heav'n to feed.
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