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Yet beautiful and bright he stood,

As born to rule the storm;
A creature of heroic blood,

A proud, though child-like form.
The flames roiled on-be would not go,

Without his Father's word ;
That Father, faint in death below,

His voice no longer heard.
He called aloud—“Say, Father, say,

If yet my task be done ?"
He knew not that the chieftain lay

Unconscious of his son.
“Speak, Father," once again he cried,

“If I may yet be gone! And”—but the booming shots replied,

And fast the flames rolled on.
Upon his brow he felt their breath,

And in his waving hair ;
And looked from that lone post of death

In still, but brave despair.
And shouted but once more aloud,

“My Father! must I stay ?” While o'er him fast, through sail and shroud,

The wreathing fires made way.
They wrapt the ship in splendour wild,

They caught the flag on high,
And streamed above the gallant child

Like banners in the sky.
There came a burst of thunder-sound-

The boy-oh! where was he?
Ask of the winds, that far around

With fragments strewed the sea !

With mast, and helm, and pennon fair,

That well had borne their part-
But the noblest thing that perished there
Was that young faithful heart !



Ye Mariners of England !
That guard our native seas ;
Whose flag has braved, a thousand years,
The battle and the breeze !
Your glorious standard launch again,
To match another foe;
And sweep through the deep,
While the stormy tempests blow;
While the battle rages loud and long,
And the stormy tempests blow.
The spirits of your fathers
Shall start from every wave!
For the deck it was their field of fame,
And Ocean was their grave;
Where Blake and mighty Nelson fell,
Your manly hearts shall glow,
As ye sweep through the deep,
While the stormy tempests blow;
While the battle rages loud and long,
And the stormy tempests blow.

Britannia needs no bulwark,
No towers along the steep;


Her march is o'er the mountain waves,
Her home is on the deep.
With thunders from her native oak,
She quells the floods below-
As they roar on the shore,
When the stormy tempests blow;
When the battle rages loud and long,
And the stormy tempests blow.
The meteor flag of England
Shall yet terrific burn;
Till danger's troubled night depart,
And the star of peace return.
When, then, ye ocean warriors !
Jur song and

and feast shall flow,
To the fame of your name,
When the storm has ceased to blow;
When the fiery fight is heard no more,
And the storm has ceased to blow.



PRIDE, ugly pride, sometimes is seen
By haughty looks, and lofty mien ;
But oftener it is found that Pride
Loves deep within the heart to hide ;

* This and the four following Poems are taken from Taylor's “Hymns for Infant Minds,” a book of which these extracts form a most inadequate specimen, and the whole of which ought to be in the hands of every child.

And while the looks are mild and fair,
It sits and does its mischief there.

Now if you really wish to find
If Pride be lurking in your mind,
Inquire if you can bear a slight,
Or patiently give up your right.
Can you submissively consent
To take reproof and punishment,
And feel no angry temper start

any corner of your heart ?
Can you at once confess a crime,
And promise for another time?
Or say you've been in a mistake,
Nor try some poor excuse to make;
But freely own that it was wrong
To argue for your side so long?
Flat contradiction can you bear,
When you are right, and know you are !
Nor flatly contradict again,
But wait, or modestly explain,
And tell your reasons one by one,
Nor think of triumph when you've done ?
Can you, in business or in play,
Give up your wishes or your way?
Or do a thing against your will,
For somebody that's younger still?
And never try to overbear,
Nor say a word that is not fair ?
Does laughing at you, in a joke,
No anger nor revenge provoke;
But can you laugh yourself, and be
As merry as the company ?
Or, when you find that you could do
The harm to them they did to you,
Can you keep down the wicked thought,
And do exactly as you ought ?

Put all these questions to your heart,
And make it act an honest part;
And, when they've each been fairly tried,
I think you'll own that you have Pride :
Some one will suit you as you go,
And force your heart to tell you so ;
But, if they all should be denied,
Then you're too proud to own your Pride.



LORD, I have passed another day,

And come to thank thee for thy care : Forgive my faults in work or play,

And listen to my evening prayer.

Thy favour gives me daily bread,

And friends, who all my wants supply; And safely now I rest my head,

Preserved and guarded by thine eye. Look down in pity, and forgive

Whate'er I've said or done amiss ; And help me, every day I live,

To serve thee better than on this.

Now, while I speak, be pleased to take

A helpless child beneath thy care ;
And condescend, for Jesus' sake,
To listen to my evening prayer.


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