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most valuable works to which genius has ever given existence. If the earliest impressions are of the greatest importance, because the most effective and the most enduring, how essential is it that the bias of the young mind should be towards virtue, honesty, industry, and humanity! There is no lesson in either which Dr. Watts has left untaught. Children lisp his verses long before they can read them—the moral fixes upon the mind through the imagination, and is retained for life. The “Divine Songs” are neither too high nor - what is less easy of attainment -- too low for the comprehension of a child, and they tempt perusal and thought by the graces of easy rhyme. They are simple without being weak; and they reason without being argumentative; they are just of sufficient length to be cominitted to memory, without being long enough to become wearisome as a task. They are indeed the most perfect examples in our language of the achievement of that which a writer desires to achieve. We regard Dr. Watts, therefore, as one of the greatest benefactors of human kind; and may search in vain through the thousand tomes of our poets for so many golden verses as we find in these “ Divine Songs for Children."
Now let my faith grow strong and rife,
And view my Lord in all his love: Look back to hear his dying cries,
Then mount and see his throne above.
See where he languish'd on the cross ;
Beneath my sins he groan'd and died; See where he sits to plead my cause
By his almighty Father's side.
If I behold his bleeding heart,
There love in floods of sorrow reigns, He triumphs o'er the killing smart,
And buys my pleasure with his pains.
Or if I climb th' eternal hills,
Where the dear Conqueror sits enthron'd, Still in his heart compassion dwells,
Near the memorials of his wound.
How shall a pardon'd rebel show
How much I love my dying God ? Lord, here I banish ev'ry foe,
I hate the sins that cost thy blood.
I hold no more commerce with hell,
My dearest lusts shall all depart ; But let thine image ever dwell
Stampt as a seal upon my heart.
Mylo, forbear to call him blest
Through all his meadows roll,
That wears a narrow soul.
He swells amidst his wealthy store,
Huge heaps of shining ore.
His manors and his farms,
He hugs between his arms.
When Cræsus mounts his throne,
How long their shadow's grown. Alas! how vain their fancies be
To think that shape their own!
Thus mingled still with wealth and state,
FEW HAPPY MATCHES.
SAY, mighty Love, and teach my song,
And who the happy pairs,
To soften all their cares.
As custom leads the way :
And be as blest as they.
To dull embraces move;
And make a world of love.
The purer bliss destroy:
T' improve the burning joy.
Can mingle hearts and hands :
With osiers for their bands.
Not minds of melancholy strain,
Can the dear bondage bless :
Or none besides the bass.
Nor can the soft enchantments hold
The rugged and the keen :
young foxes might as well
With firebrands tied between.
Nor let the cruel fetters bind
For love abhors the sight:
Rise and forbid delight.
Two kindred souls alone must meet,
And feeds their mutual loves :
And Cupids yoke the doves.
EARTH AND HEAVEN.
Hast thou not seen, impatient boy,
Hast thou not read the solemn truth,
On every mortal joy ?
And yet, with heedless haste,
The thirsty boy repeats the taste, Nor hearkens to despair, but tries the bowl again. The rills of pleasure never run sincere:
Earth has no unpolluted spring, From the curs'd soil some dangerous taint they bear; So roses grow on thorns, and honey wears a sting.