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FAREWELL OF THE SOUL TO THE Or lure from Heaven my wavering

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cree,

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- Well hast thou in my service wrought;

That strikes thy clasping nerves from Thy brow hath mirrored forth my

me?

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thought,

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Oh, quit thy hold, For thou art faint, and chill, and cold, And long thy gasp and groan of pain Have bound me pitying in thy chain, Though angels urge me hence to soar, Where I shall share thine ills no more. Yet we shall meet. To soothe thy pain

Remember we shall meet again. Quell with this hope the victor's sting,

And keep it as a signet-ring, When the dire worm shall pierce thy breast,

And nought but ashes mark thy rest, When stars shall fall, and skies grow dark,

And proud suns quench their glowworm spark,

Keep thou that hope, to light thy gloom,

Till the last trumpet rends the tomb. Then shalt thou glorious rise, and fair,

Nor spot, nor stain, nor wrinkle bear,
And I, with hovering wing elate,
The bursting of thy bonds shall wait,
And breathe the welcome of the sky-
"No more to part, no more to die,
Co-heir of Immortality."

BENEVOLENCE.

WHOSE is the gold that glitters in the mine?

And whose the silver? Are they not

the Lord's? Aro! the cattle on a thousand hills, And the broad earth with all her gushing springs

Are they not His who made them? Ye who hold Slight tenantry therein, and call your lands

By your own names, and lock your gathered gold

From him who in his bleeding Saviour's name

Doth ask a part, whose shall those riches be

When, like the grass-blade from the autumn frost,

Ye fall away?

Point out to me the forms That in your treasure-chambers shall

enact

Glad mastership, and revel where you toiled Sleepless and stern. Strange faces

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are they all. man! whose wrinkling labor is for heirs

Thou knowest not who, thou in thy mouldering bed,

Unkenned, unchronicled of them, shall sleep;

Nor will they thank thee, that thou didst bereave

Thy soul of good for them.

Now, thou mayest give The famished food, the prisoner liberty,

Light to the darkened mind, to the lost soul

A place in heaven.
privilege
With solemn gratitude.

thou art

Take thou the Speck as

Upon earth's surface, gloriously exult To be co-worker with the King of kings.

THE CORAL INSECT.

TOIL on! toil on! ye ephemeral train, Who build on the tossing and treacherous main;

Toil on! for the wisdom of man ye mock,

With your sand-based structures, and domes of rock;

Your columns the fathomless fountains lave,

And your arches spring up through
the crested wave;
Ye're a puny race, thus boldly to rear
A fabric so vast, in a realm so drear.

Ye bind the deep with your secret

zone.

The ocean is sealed, and the surge a stone;

Fresh wreaths from the coral pavement spring,

Like the terraced pride of Assyria's king:

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But in the strife find succor; - for WooDs, waters, have a charm to

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Of pines, and by the side of purling streams

That prattle all their secrets in their dreams, Unconscious of a listener,-unafraid; Thy soul shall feel their freshening, and the truth

Of nature then, reviving in thy heart,

Shall bring thee the best feelings of thy youth,

When in all natural joys thy joy had part,

Ere lucre and the narrowing toils of trade

Had turned thee to the thing thou wast not made.

RECOMPENSE.

NOT profitless the game, even when we lose,

Nor wanting in reward the thankless toil;

The wild adventure that the man pursues,

Requites him, though he gather not the spoil:

Strength follows labor, and its exercise

Brings independence, fearlessness of ill,

Courage and pride,-all attributes we prize;

Though their fruits fail, not the less precious still.

Though fame withholds the trophy of desire,

And men deny, and the impatient throng

Grow heedless, and the strains protracted, tire;—

Not wholly vain the minstrel and the song,

If, striving to arouse one heavenly

tone

In others' hearts, it wakens up his

own.

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And this, methinks, were no unseem- And, from the conscious virtue in the

ly boast,

In him who thus records the expe

rience

breast.

To trembling nature gives both strength and will!

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By stormy summons. He hath naught beyond

For consolation, if that these be lost;

And rather will he hear of fortune crossed,

Plans baffled, hopes denied,― than take a tone

Resentful, with a quick and keen reply

To hasty passion and impatient eye,

Such as by noblest natures may be shown,

When the mood vexes! Friendship is a seed

Needs tendance. You must keep it free from weed, Nor, if the tree has sometimes bitter fruit,

Must you for this lay axe unto the root.

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