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A friend to chide me when I'm wrong, My inmost soul to see;

And that my friendship prove as strong
For him, as his for me.

I want a kind and tender heart,
For others' wants to feel;

A soul secure from fortune's dart,
And bosom arm'd with steel;
To bear Divine chastisement's rod,
And, mingling in my plan,
Submission to the will of God,
With charity to Man.

I want a keen, observing eye,
And ever-listening ear;

The truth, through all disguise to spy,
And wisdom's voice to hear;

A tongue, to speak at virtue's need,

In heaven's sublimest strain;

And lips, the cause of man to plead,
And never plead in vain.

I want uninterrupted health,
Throughout my long career;

And streams of never-failing wealth,

To scatter far and near ;

The destitute to clothe and feed,
Free bounty to bestow;

Supply the helpless orphan's need,
And soothe the widow's woe.

I want the genius to conceive,
The talents to unfold;

Designs, the vicious to retrieve,
The virtuous to uphold;

Inventive power, combining skill,

A persevering soul,

Of human hearts to mould the will,
And reach from pole to pole.

I want the seals of power and place,
The ensigns of command,

Charged by the people's unbought grace,

To rule my native land;

Nor crown nor sceptre would I ask,

But from my country's will;

By day, by night, to ply the task
Her cup of bliss to fill.

I want the voice of honest praise
To follow me behind,

And to be thought, in future days,
The friend of human kind;
That after-ages, as they rise,
Exulting may proclaim,

In choral union to the skies,

Their blessings on my name.

These are the wants of mortal man;
I cannot need them long,

For life itself is but a span,

And earthly bliss a song.

My last great want, absorbing all,

Is, when beneath the sod,

And summoned to my final call—
The mercy of my God.

And oh while circles in my veins
Of life the purple stream,

And yet a fragment small remains
Of nature's transient dream,

My soul, in humble hope unscared,
Forget not thou to pray,

That this thy want may be prepared

To meet the Judgment day.


159. WATER.

Wine, wine, thy power and praise
Have ever been echo'd in minstrel lays;
But, Water, I deem, hath a mightier claim,
To fill up a niche in the temple of fame.
Ye who are bred in Anacreon's school
May sneer at my strain, as the song of a fool.
Ye are wise, no doubt, but have yet to learn
How the tongue can cleave, and the veins can burn.

Should ye ever be one of a fainting band,
With your brow to the sun and your feet to the sand;
I would wager the thing I am most loath to spare,
That your Bacchanal chorus would never ring there.
Traverse the desert, and then ye can tell
What treasures exist in the cold, deep well;
Sink in despair on the red parch'd earth,
And then ye may reckon what Water is worth.

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Let Heaven this one rich gift withhold,

How soon we find it is better than gold.


I have ever found from my own knowledge and custom, as well as from the custom and observation of others, that those who drink nothing but water, or make it their principal drink, are but little affected by the climate, and can undergo the greatest fatigue without inconvenience.* -DR. MOSELY.

From The Use and Abuse of Liquors, by W. B. Carpenter.

Care should be taken not to drink water from wells in which leaves or other decaying matter have fallen. If necessitated to use such water, it should first be boiled and then filtered. It has been stated that water may hold malaria in solution, and that the poison may thus be introduced into the system.*

* From A Manual of Family Medicine and Hygiene or India, by Sir William Moore.

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