Shall boldly sweep the fervor-kindling string,
In praise of heaven's all kind, all bounteous king.

And while I chaunt his mercies here below,
While yet encumber'd with this mortal clod,
Shall my wrapt soul the joy of angels know,
The bliss of holding converse with its God.

The Middle Walk of Life.

ANGEL, who guard'st the middle walk of life,
To tread whose level paths, my fond heart beats,
Far from the thorny brakes of care and strife;
Guide me, O guide me to thy calm retreats.

There may I wander from the beaten track,

Nor fear a snake will cross me in my way;
Still shall I find a path to bring me back,
Still find a shelter, wheresoe'er I stray.

Say, ye who love the mountain top to tread,
Though with insulting sweep ye pass me by,
Though you're exalted far above my head,

Are you in aught more fully blest than I?

Has the Great God his ev'ry blessing sent you, and left me destitute and poor?

Το

Feel I not in me some equivalent ?

Ah! Yes-content and peace: what need I more.

Thus, o'er the vilet, the rank weed and thorn
Spread wide:-yet still it glows with lively blue ;
It still breathes perfume: for at eve and morn
The breath of heav'n refreshes it with dew.

Verses written on the Close of the Year.

THANKLESS for favors from on high

Man thinks he fades too soon :

Though 'tis his privilege to die,
Would he improve the boon.

But he, not wise enough to scan
His best concerns aright,

Would gladly stretch life's little spän
To ages-if he might.

To ages, where he goes!

Gall'd by affliction's heavy chain,

And hopeless of repose!

Strange fondness of the human heart,

Enamour'd of its harm!

Strange world, that costs it so much smart, And yet has pow'r to charm!

Whence has the world its magic pow'r ;
Why deem we death a foe;

Recoil from weary life's best hour,
And court a longer woe?

The cause is, conscience,-conscience oft
Her tale of guilt renews ;
Her voice is terrible, though soft :—
And dread of death ensues.

Then, anxious to be longer spared,
Man mourns his fleeting breath :
All evil, then seems light, compared
With the approach of death!

"Tis judgment shakes him!-There's the fea That prompt's his wish to stay:

He has incurr'd a long arrear,

And must despair to pay.

Pay! follow Christ, and all is paid;
His death your peace insures;
Think on the grave where he was laid,
And calm descend to yours.

The Contented Mechanic.

WEARIED with labors of the day,
And with contentment blest,

I pass the hours of night away
In calm and quiet rest.

I rise refresh'd, when morn appears,
And feel the blessing given;

Then offer up my fervent pray'rs

And grateful thanks to heaven.

Contented with a frugal meal,
No luxuries I crave:

And what concerns the common weal

In politics, I wave.

The busy crowd I always shun,

Where vicious habits please;

Nor, till my task of labor's done,
Am perfectly at ease.

I close the day, well pleased to find
The hours that I employ

In useful labor, tune the mind
For more substantial joy.

Thus, to the end of life may I
A steady course pursue;
Content to live, prepared to die,
And bid the world adieu.

A Birth-Day Thought for Youth.

CAN I, all gracious providence!

Can I deserve thy care?
Ah! no: I've not the least pretence
To bounties which I share.

Have I not been defended still

From dangers, and from death h; Been safe preserved from ev'ry ill,

E'er since thou gavest me breath.