THE WORLD.

FROM A SPANISH POEM.

O WORLD! SO few the years we live, Would that the life which thou dost give Were life indeed!

But O, thy sorrows fall so fast,

Our happiest hour is when at last

The soul is freed.

Our days are covered o'er with grief,

And sorrows neither few nor brief

Veil all in gloom;

Left desolate of real good,

Within this cheerless solitude

No pleasures bloom.

Thy pilgrimage begins in tears,

And ends in bitter doubts and fears,

Of dark despair;

Midway so many toils appear,

That he who lingers longest here

Knows most of care.

Thy goods are bought with many a groan,

By the hot sweat of toil alone,

And weary hearts;

Fleet-footed is the approach of wo,

But with a lingering step, and slow,
Its form departs.

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"O death, no more, no more delay;

My spirit longs to flee away,

And be at rest;

The will of heaven my will shall be,

I bow to the divine decree,

To God's behest.

My soul is ready to depart,

No thought rebels, the obedient heart

Breathes forth no sigh;

The wish on earth to linger still

Were vain, when 'tis God's sovereign will That we shall die.

"O Thou, that for our sins didst take

A human form, and humbly make

Thy home on earth;

Thou, that to thy divinity

A human nature didst ally

By mortal birth,

And in that form didst suffer here,

Torment, and agony, and fear.

So patiently;

By thy redeeming grace alone,
And not for merits of my own,

O pardon me!"

As thus the dying warrior prayed, Without one gathering mist or shade Upon his mind;

Encircled by his family,

Watched by affection's gentle eye,

And though the warrior's sun has set,

Its light shall linger round us yet,
Bright, radiant, blest.

CHRIST BLESSING LITTLE CHILDREN.

"Then were there brought unto him little children, that he should put his hands on them and pray: and the disciples rebuked them. But Jesus said, Suffer little children, and forbid them not, to come unto me, for of such is the kingdom of heaven. And he laid his hands on them, and departed thence."

How happy these dear children were

Whom the Redeemer bless'd;

Whom, when he breath'd that fervent prayer,

He folded to his breast.

How powerful was that prayer to bring

All blessings from above!

How true to lead them to the spring

Of everlasting love.

How mighty to preserve from sin,

And every dang'rous snare!