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Whose eye this atom globe surveys;
Thy mercy in Thy justice praise !
The mystic mazes of Thy will,
The shadows of celestial light, Are past the power of human skill —
But what the Eternal acts is right.
Oh, teach me in the trying hour,
When anguish swells the dewy tear, To still my sorrows, own Thy power,
Thy goodness love, Thy justice fear !
If in this bosom aught but Thee
Encroaching sought a boundless sway, Omniscience could the danger see,
And Mercy look the cause away.
Then why, my soul, dost thou complain ?
Why drooping seek the dark recess ? Shake off the melancholy chain,
For God created all to bless.
But ah! my breast is human still —
The rising sigh, the falling tear, My languid vitals' feeble rill,
The sickness of my soul declare.
But yet, with fortitude resign'd,
I'll thank the inflicter of the blow; Forbid the sigh, compose my mind,
Nor let the gush of misery flow.
Which on my sinking spirit steals,
THE GIRL AND THE DROWNING LAMB.
SEEK who will delight in fable,
I shall tell you truth. A lamb
'Cross the brook its thoughtless dam.
Far and wide, on hill and valley,
Rain had fallen-unceasing rain ;
Struggled through the flood in vain.
But as chanced a cottage maiden
Ten years scarcely had she told-
Clasp'd the lamb and kept her hold.
Whirld adown the rocky channel,
Sinking, rising, on they go;
Only in the lake below.
Oh! it was a frightful current,
Whose fierce wrath the girl had braved;
Shout with triumph, both are saved !
Saved by courage that with danger
Grew, by strength the gift of love;
Wordsworth. THE FALLING OUT OF FAITHFUL FRIENDS. In going to my naked bed, as one that would have slept, I heard a wife sing to her child, that long before had wept; She sighed sore, and sang full sweet, to bring the babe to rest, That would not cease, but cried still, in sucking at her breast. She was full weary of her watch, and grieved with her child, She rocked it and rated it, until on her it smiled ; Then did she say, “Now have I found the proverb true to prove, The falling out of faithful friends renewing is of love." Then took I paper, pen, and ink, this proverb for to write, In register for to remain of such a worthy wight. As she proceeded thus in song unto her little brat, Much matter utter'd she of weight in place whereas she sat, And proved plain there was no beast, nor creature bearing life, Could well be known to live in love without discord and strife; Then kissed she her little babe, and vowed by God above, “The falling out of faithful friends renewing is of love."
THE DYING CHRISTIAN TO HIS SOUL.
VITAL spark of heavenly flame,
Two sinless eyes of blue,
That, baby dear, is you.
That is priceless, every curl,
Ay, that's my baby girl.
A small, small frock, as the snowdrop white,
That is worn with a tiny pride,
With a baby wonder eyed;
Whose feet have a tiny fall,
That, Baby May, we call.
That a thought of sleep disdain,
Are by’d and by’d in vain;
With strainings and pursed-up brow,
Ay, that's my baby now.
A sinking of heart, a shuddering dread,
Too deep for a word or tear,
As the future is hope or fear;
We would and yet would not know,
As is perilled by hearts below.