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I better love young children,
Their pure and simple joys ;
No bitter thought employs.
Yet holding much I love,
Of joys that are above.
The watcher keeps his ward,
So I, with more regard,
That tells me of my end,
Death comes a look’d-for friend!
T. M. B.
THE MARTYR'S DEATH SONG.
'Twas night, but the lurid glare that fell
“ Saviour of sinners, who didst bear
So much of pain and sorrow here ;
I call to Thee !
“ Saviour, thou know'st the bitterness
Of pain, and grief, and weariness,
Oh! hear my cry!
“ And in thy hour of misery
There was no tear of sympathy,
I now would pray-
“ But Thou hast promised peace above,
A home where ev'ry thought is love,
Oh! lend me wings,
Fainter and fainter grew the Martyr's hymn,
ANNETTE. SABBATH LAYS.
No. I. SABBATH MORNING.
Nature awakes and sings her gladdest strain,
No. II. SABBATH EVEXING. How still, how calm, is earth, and sky, and air ! No sound disturbs the quiet happiness; Nature is wrapt in sleep,-fit hour to share In the sweet solacement of silent prayer. The moon lights up yon pathless wilderness, The night-bird scarcely trills it welcome song, Such as the rock doth in its joy prolong; Whilst the full heart dissolves in thankfulness, And is constrained surrounding things to bless. Fit end is this of a soul-stilling day, When mercy's voice awoke so sweet and clear ; When, from the throne of God, broke forth a ray Of light, which chased away the sinner's tear, And quelled foreboding dark-gave hope in place of fear !
Puppis cauda, carinaque venter, proraque rostrum;
(Translations in verse are requested.)