Page images
PDF
EPUB

THE CREATOR TO BE REMEMBERED

IN TIME OF YOUTH.

"REMEMBER NOW THY CREATOR IN THE DAYS OF THY YOUTH, WHILE THE EVIL DAYS COME NOT, AND THE YEARS DRAW NIGH, WHEN THOU SHALT SAY I HAVE NO PLEASURE IN THEM."

ECCLESIASTES xii. v. 1.

TO THE MOTHER'S HOPE.

REMEMBER now in childhood's early day,

The hand that form'd thy animated clay;

Engrave the precept deeply on thy heart,
Nor let it ever from thy mind depart.

In the bright days of innocence and peace
Offer to GOD thy pure and spotless heart;

Ere evil overtake, and pleasures cease,

And thou in life's gay vision's have no part.

The fleeting scenes of youth will soon be o'er,

And if that season thou shalt spend in vain, Thou may'st with tears the precious loss deplore, And vainly wish the blessing to regain.

Oh seize the opening dawn of youth, to pay
Thy grateful homage to Almighty care:
And ere the sun of life shall fade away,

A resting-place against it's eve prepare:

That when the vernal day of youth is past,

And all the transient joys of life shall cease, No lurking fears may haunt thy mind at last, But an approving conscience whisper peace.

The grateful tribute of untainted youth,

Shall rise to Heaven and draw a guardian down, To lead thee in the righteous path of truth,

And give thy hoary age a glorious crown.

Religious youth appears with every grace,

Th' expressive image of a soul divine, Benignant sweetness beams upon it's face,

And makes each charm with double lustre shine.

Th' aspiring soul on heavenly joys intent,

Will rise superior to affliction's power: The calm reflection of a life well spent

Will solace every inauspicious hour.

How safely may the humble soul repose

Beneath the sheltering wings of GOD's own love.

And e'en when death this earthly scene shall close,

'Tis but to open brighter realms above.

Oh! be religion now thy earliest care;
For beatific joys thy soul prepare.

Trust not to-morrow-but begin to-day:

Uncertain life admits not of delay.

D

REFLECTIONS

ON THE CLOSE OF THE YEAR 1792.

Ir comes the midnight hour, with raven wing
Outstretch'd, and urging on it's rapid flight
Impatient of delay-nor will it pause

To take a last farewell-though it involve
The closing year, companion of it's fate.

A few short moments and it will have pass'd
The gulph, where year on year, and age on age,
Has roll'd ne'er to return, save in the smile
That plays around the memory of the past,

Or tear that dims the retrospective eye.

Now round a slumbering world has darkness drawn

His sable curtain, and o'er pillow'd heads

Of labour's children sheds lethean dews,

Suspending in the sweet oblivious charm

The anxious cares that wait on broad-eyed day.

A child of labour I-and few my hours

Of intermittent rest, but yet to me

Sleep comes not. It was wont to come

In rosy infancy's delightful morn,

When gay as Spring I bounded o'er the hills

Of my dear native North, with heart as light

And spirits as elastic as my steps:

'Twas wont to come, and at the accustom'd hour,

A welcome guest, when on my pallet laid

In

my scholastic nunnery; for such

A semblance wore it's high sequestring walls
And jealous gratings, shutting out the world.
And wisely too-for sacred is the charge

Of Youth and Innocence, whose ductile hearts,
Like waxen tablets, take the deep impress
Example's style engraves.-Danger lurks

Where'er the wandering eye can rove abroad;
And caution only is security:

« PreviousContinue »