THE WATER OF LIFE. "Whosoever will, let him take the water of life freely." Ho! all that thirst, draw nigh, Haste to that blessed fold, Which Jesus first ordained, There, shall the sacred Fount, There, is that Word dispensed, There is that Feast prepared, For those in Christ who live; Rich banquet! where the contrite heart Come, then, the Spirit cries, And she, the heavenly Bride, Come, all that are athirst, nor fear That one shall be denied. Come, whosoever will, Nor price, nor money bring; Come to that fount, whose streams of life Through endless ages, spring. LIFE'S LITTLE LINES. "Noting, ere they fade away, The little lines of yesterday." LIFE'S "little lines; " how short, how faint, Its highest hopes, its brightest joys, Youth's bright, and mild, and morning light, Its sunshine, and its showers, Its hopes and fears, its loves and tears, Its heedless, happy hours; And manhood's high and brightened noon, Its honours, dangers, cares, The parents' pains, the parents' joys, The parents' anxious prayers; Fade in old age's evening gray, The twilight of the mind; Then sink, in death's long, dreamless night, And leave no trace, behind. Yet, though so changing, and so brief, Our life's eventful page, It has its charms, for every grief, In youth's, in manhood's, golden hours, And when old age, with wintry hand, Virtue's fair fruits, survive the blast, And faith, with pure, unwavering eye, Can pierce the gathered gloom; And smile upon the spoiler's rage, And live, beyond the tomb. Be ours, then, virtue's deathless charm, Then shall we rise, from death's dark sleep, TO A VERY DEAR FRIEND.* -Friendship, I owe thee much." DARK to the soul, and desolate, Friend of my heart! in hours of joy, New motive, to rejoice; And oft, with anxious cares oppressed, And griefs, thou didst not know, Oh! I have loved, with thee to rove, * The venerable Rector of Trinity Church, New York. And joyed, when Summer found us laid, Where, save the streamlet's bubbling tale, With thee, when Autumn's mellowing hand Successively unfold! And e'en in Winter's sullen hour, To roam, delighted, on, And feel, that not in Summer bower, Those happy hours, those happy hours, But many a dear remembrance lives, Deep in my heart, entwined; And oft, the chords with which they're bound, Shall fancy wake again; And memory love to linger long, Delighted, on that strain. THERMOPYLE. Σᾶς περὶ, παρθένε, μορφας Καὶ θανεῖν ζαλωτὸς ἐν Ἑλλάδι πότμος. "TWAS an hour of fearful issues, When, lifting high each sword of flame, And Oh! that oath was nobly kept: Till, torrent-like, the stream of blood Oh, yes, that oath was nobly kept, And firmly, was the fight maintained, FRAGMENT. 'Twas night-and winds were raving round, The doors were closed, the curtains drawn, Domestic love! what holier shrine, 'Twas night-the feather-footed hours |