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A PARAPHRASE On the latter Part of the Sixth Chapter of St. Mat

thew.-Thomson. When my breast labours with oppressive care, And o’er my cheek descends the falling tear; While all my warring passions are at strife, O, let me listen to the words of life! Raptures deep-felt His doctrine did impart, And thus He raised from earth the drooping heart. Think not, when all your scanty stores afford, Is spread at once upon the sparing board; Think not, when worn the homely robe appears, While, on the roof, the howling tempest bears ; What farther shall this feeble life sustain, And what shall clothe these shiv’ring limbs again. Say, does not life its nourishment exceed? And the fair body its investing weed ? Behold! and look away your low despairSee the light tenants of the barren air : To them, nor stores, nor granaries, belong, Nought but the woodland, and the pleasing song; Yet, your kind heavenly Father bends His eye On the least wing, that fits along the sky:To Him they sing, when Spring renews the plain, To Him they cry, in Winter's pinching reign; Nor is their music, nor their plaint in vain : He hears the gay, and the distressful call, And with unsparing bounty fills them all. Observe the rising lily's snowy grace, Observe the various vegetable race; They neither toil, nor spin, but careless grow, Yet see how warm they blush! how bright they

glow! What regal vestments can with them compare! What king so shining! or what queen so fair !

If, ceaseless, thus the fowls of heaven He feeds,
If o'er the fields such lucid robes He spreads ;
Will He not care for you, ye faithless, say ?
Is He unwise? or, are ye less than they?

CHARITY
A Paraphrase on the Thirteenth Chapter of the First

Epistle to the Corinthians.-Prior.
DID sweeter sounds adorn my flowing tongue,
Than ever man pronounced, or angel sung :
Had I all knowledge, human and divine,
That thought can reach, or science can define;
And had I power to give that knowledge birth,
In all the speeches of the babbling earth;
Did Shadrach's zeal my glowing breast inspire,
To

weary tortures, and rejoice in fire :
Or had I faith like that which Israel saw,
When Moses gave them miracles and law;
Yet, gracious Charity, indulgent guest,
Were not thy power exerted in my breast,
Those speeches would send up unheeded prayer;
That scorn of life would be but wild despair;
A cymbal's sound were better than my voice;
My faith were form; my eloquence were noise.
Charity, decent, modest, easy, kind,
Softens the high, and rears the abject mind;
Knows with just reins and gentle hand to guide
Betwixt vile shame and arbitrary pride.
Not soon provoked, she easily forgives;
And much she suffers, as she much believes.
Soft peace she brings wherever she arrives;
She builds our quiet, as she forms our lives :
Lays the rough paths of peevish nature even,
And opens in each heart a little heaven.
Each other gift, which God on man bestows,
Its proper bounds and due restriction knows;

To one fixt purpose dedicates its power,
And finishing its act, exists no more.
Thus, in obedience to what Heaven decrees,
Knowledge shall fail, and Prophecy shall cease :
But lasting Charity's more ample sway,
Nor bound by time, nor subject to decay,
In happy triumph shall for ever live,
And endless good diffuse, and endless praise re-

ceive.

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ON THE 25TH OF OCTOBER, 1819 ANOTHER year! a year of solitude, Of darkness, yet of peace, has past,—and he, The father of his people, marks it not! Alike to him all seasons and their change, His eyes are rayless, and his heart is cold; He wields a barren sceptre,-yet his brow, Of regal diadem despoiled, still wears The crown of glory his the hoary head, Found in the way of righteousness and truth. O thou! our father : thou, our prince and friend ! How many a sight that would have grieved thine

eyes, How many a pang that would have wrung thy heart, Has God withheld, and thine affliction spared ! The rose of England wither'd in its bud, The voice of wailing was in ev'ry tent, Yet thy day passed unruffled as before. The partner of thy hopes, when hope was young. She who had shared thy first, thy youthful love, And ministered to ev'ry sorrow;she Fell by long sickness, and a lingering death ; And thou hadst neither tear nor sigh to give. Yet thou art not forgotten !- Dear thou wast In happier moments; and oh! dearer far Now that the hand of God has touched thee; still Hallowed by all the memory of the past Shall be this day. Sacred by lengthened years, And venerable by sufferings, mayst thou reach,

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In Heaven's appointed time, thy last abode,
The paradise of God, where ev'ry tear
Is wiped from ev'ry eye!

THE FOLLOWING LINES

Are said to have been written by an amiable Princess,

(Amelia), whose sufferings and exemplary patience
awakened universal sympathy and admiration.
UNTHINKING, idle, wild, and young,
I laughed, and talked, and danced, and sung;
And proud of health, of freedom vain,
Dreamed not of sorrow, care, or pain:
Concluding, in those hours of glee,
That all the world was made for me.
But when the days of trial came,
When sickness shook this trembling frame,
When folly's gay pursuits were o’er,
And I could dance and sing no more,
It then occurred, how sad 'twould be
Were this world only made for me!

ON THE DEATH OF THE HON. MR. DAWSON.
O ye! who, borne on Fancy's golden wing,

Sport in the sunshine of life's cloudless sky;
Who, lost amid the luxury of Spring,

Dream of no threat’ning storm, no danger nigh: A little while your fond pursuits forbear!

One hour, at least, to serious thought is due! A friend demands the tribute of a tear;

A friend, who once had hopes, as bright as you !
Whene'er he mixt among the youthful train,

Say, did not pleasure sparkle in his eye?
But ah! how soon the pleasure turned to pain!

He died ;--reflect! repent !-Ye soon may die !

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