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Sweet roses grace the thorny way,

Along this vale of sorrow ;
The flowers that shed their leaves to-day,

Shall bloom again to-morrow :
How grand in age, how fair in youth,
Are holy “FRIENDSHIP, LOVE, and TRUTA !"

On Halcyon wings our moments pass,

Life's cruel cares beguiling ;
Old TIME lays down his scythe and glass,

In gay good humour smiling :
With ermine beard and forelock grey,

His reverend front adorning,
He looks like Winter turn'd to May,

Night soften'd into Morning!
How grand in age, how fair in youth,
Are holy 6 FRIENDSHIP, LOVE, and TRUTA ""

From these delightful fountains flow

Ambrosial rills of pleasure :
Can man desire, can heaven bestow,

A 'more resplendent treasure ?
Adorn'd with gems so richly bright,

We'll form a Constellation,
Where every Star, with modest light,

Shall gild his proper station.
How grand in age, how fair in youth,
Are holy “ FRIENDSHIP, LOVE, and TRUTH !"

RELIGION.

AN OCCASIONAL HYMN.

THROUGH shades and solitudes profound,

The fainting traveller winds his way ; Bewildering meteors glare around,

And tempt his wandering feet astray.

Welcome, thrice welcome, to his eye,

The sudden moon's inspiring light, When forth she sallies through the sky,

The guardian angel of the night !

Thus mortals, blind and weak, below

Pursue the phantom Bliss, in vain ; The world's a wilderness of wo,

And life a pilgrimage of pain !

1 1

Till mild RELIGION, from above,

Descends, a sweet engaging form, The messenger of heavenly love,

The bow of promise in a storm!

Then guilty passions wing their flight,

Sorrow, remorse, affliction cease ; RELIGION's yoke is soft and light,

And all her paths are paths of peace.

Ambition, pride, revenge depart,

And folly flies her chastening rod ; She makes the humble contrite heart

A temple of the living God.

Beyond the narrow vale of time,

Where bright celestial ages roll, To scenes eternal, scenes sublime,

She points the way, and leads the soul.

At her approach the Grave appears

The Gate of Paradise restored ; Her voice the watchings Cherub hears,

And drops his double flaming sword.

Baptized with her renewing fire,

May we the crown of glory gain ; Rise when the Host of heaven expire,

And reign with God, for ever reign.

THE JOY OF GRIEF.'

Ossian.

SWEET the hour of tribulation,

When the heart can freely sigh ; And the tear of resignation

Twinkles in the mournful eye.

Have you felt a kind emotion

Tremble through your troubled breast; Soft as evening o'er the ocean,

When she charms the waves to rest?

Have you lost a friend, or brother?

Heard a father's parting breath? Gazed upon a lifeless mother,

Till she seem'd to wake from death?

Have you felt a spouse expiring
In your arms,

before

your view ? Watch'd the lovely soul retiring

From her eyes, that broke on you ?

Did not grief then grow romantic,

Raving on remember'd bliss ? Did you not, with fervour frantic,

Kiss the lips thatófelt no kiss ?

Yes! but, when you had resign'd her,

Life and you were reconciled ; ANNA left-she left behind her,

One, one dear, one only child.

But before the green moss peeping,
His
poor

mother's grave array'd, In that grave, the infant sleeping

On the mother's lap was laid.

Horror then, your heart congealing,
Chill'd

you

with intense despair ; Can you call to mind the feeling ;

No! there was no feeling there !

From that gloomy trance of sorrow,
When

you woke to pangs unknown, How unwelcome was the morrow,

For it rose on YOU ALONE.

Sunk in self-consuming anguish,
Can the poor heart always ache?

the tortured nerve will languish, Or the strings of life must break.

No;

;

O'er the yielding brow of sadness,

One faint smile of comfort stole One soft pang of tender gladness

Exquisitely thrilld your soul.

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