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If I am right, thy grace impart,
Still in the right to stay;

If I am wrong, oh teach my heart
To find that better way.

Save me alike from foolish pride,
Or impious discontent,

At aught thy wisdom has deny'd,
Oraught thy goodness lent.

Teach me to feel another's woe,
To hide the fault I see;

That mercy I to others show,
That mercy show to me.

Mean though I am, not wholly so,
Since quicken'd by thy breath;

O lead me wheresoe'er I go,
Through this day's life or death.

This day, be bread and peace my lot: All else beneath the sun,

Thou know'st if best bestow'd or not, And let thy will be done.

To thee, whose temple is all space,
Whose altar, earth, sea, skies!

One chorus let all beings raise!
All nature's incense rise!

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A FATHER'S ADVICE
to his son.
BY G. cooper.

Deer in a grove by cypress shaded,
Where mid-day sun has seldom shone,

Or noise the solemn scene invaded,
Save some afflicted Muse's moan.

A swain, tow'rds full-ag'd manhood wending,
Sat sorrowing at the close of day,

At whose fond side a boy, attending,
Lisp'd half his father's cares away.

The father's eyes no object wrested,
But on the smiling prattler hung,

*Till what his throbbing heart suggested,
These accents trembled from his tongue.

“My youth's first hope, my manhood's treasure,
My dearest innocent, attend,
Nor fear rebuke, or sour displeasure,
A father's loveliest name is Friend.

“Some truths from long experience flowing,
Worth more than royal grants, receive;
For truths are wealth of Heaven's bestowing,
Which kings have seldom power to give.

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* Since from an ancient race descended,
You boast an unattainted blood,
By yours be their fair fame attended,
And claim by birthright—to be good.

“In love for every fellow-creature
Superior rise above the crowd;
What most ennobles human nature
Was ne'er the portion of the proud.

* Be thine the generous heart that borrows
From other's joys a friendly glow,
And for each hapless neighbour's sorrows,
Throbs with a sympathetic woe.

“This is the temper most endearing,
Though wide proud pomp her banner spread;
And heavenly pow'r Good-nature bearing,
Each heart in willing thraldom leads.

“Taste not from Fame's uncertain fountain
The peace-destroying streams that flow,
Nor from Ambition's dangerous mountain
Look down upon the world below.

“The princely pine on hills exalted,
Whose lofty branches cleave the sky,
By winds, long brav'd, at last assaulted,
Is headlong whirl’d in dust to lie;

“While the mild rose, more safely growing,
Low in its unaspiring vale,
Amid retirement's shelter blowing,
Exchanges sweets with every gale.

“Wish not for Beauty's darling features, Moulded by Nature's partial pow'r, For fairest forms 'mong human creatures Shine but the pageants of an hour.

“I saw the pride of all thy meadow,
At moon, a gay marcissus, blow
Upon a river's bank, whose shadow
Bloom'd in the silver waves below;

“By noontide's heat its youth was wasted,
The waters, as they pass'd, complain'd;
At eve, its glories all were blasted,
And not one former tint remain'd.

“Nor let vain Wit's deceitful glory
Lead you from Wisdom's path astray;
What genius lives renown'd in story,
To happiness who found the way?

“In yonder mead behold that vapour,
Whose vivid beams illusive play,
Far off it seems a friendly taper,
To guide the traveller on his way;

“But should some hapless wretch, pursuing,
Tread where the treach'rous meteors glow,
He’d find, too late, his rashness rueing,
That fatal quicksands lurk below.

“In life such bubbles nought admiring,
Gilt with false light, and fill'd with air,
Do you, from pageant crowds retiring,
To Peace in Virtue's cot repair.

* There seek the never-wasted treasure
Which mutual love and friendship give,
Domestic comfort, spotless pleasure,
And blest and blessing you will live.

“If Heav'n with children crowns your dwelling,
As mine its bounty does with you,
In fondness fatherly excelling,
Th’ example you have felt, pursue.”

He paus'd—for tenderly caressing
The darling of his wounded heart,

Looks had means only of expressing
Thoughts, language never could impart.

Now Night, her mournful mantle spreading,
Had rob’d in black th’ horizon round,

And, dank dews from her tresses shedding,
With genial moisture bath'd the ground;

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