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The Fir, the Maple, and the Pine,
By strength of form protected,
Look'd down with scorn upon the Vine,
Weak, helpless, and dejected.

"Alas! I own my feebleness;

No friend," she cried, "is near me; Oh! who will pity my distress?

Ah! naught have I to cheer me.

"No branch, no blossom, fruit or stem,
Like other trees possessing;
I sigh when I compare with them,
Now, is it not distressing?

"But hold! I will not make complaint;
Submission has been taught me ;
And though neglected, weak, and faint,
Yet patience shall support me.

"On cheering hope my trust relies ;
I know, though long I've waited,
But for some purpose good and wise,
I ne'er had been created."

The Farmer saw the drooping vine,
And set it near his bower;
Supported there, it grew, to shine
In beauty, worth and power.

A clust'ring store, delicious wealth!
Its leaves were soon displaying,
With comfort, cheerfulness and health,
The farmer's care repaying.

For the rich treasure of the vine

Enlivens every station,

With its rich fruit and cheering wine;
Both good in moderation.

And now the farmer daily sees

His charity rewarded;

The vine's reward for patent hope

I have above recorded.

MORAL.

Patience and resignation are sure to meet their reward.

DISCONTENT.

THESE are, says Archbishop Tillotson, beyond comparison, the two greatest evils in this world; a diseased body, and a discontented mind.

The discontented man is ever restless and uneasy, dissatisfied with his station in life, his connexions, and almost every circumstance that happens to him. He is continually peevish and fretful, impatient of every injury he receives, and unduly impressed with every disappointment he suffers. He considers others as happier than himself, and enjoys hardly any of the blessings of providence with a calm and grateful mind. He forms to himself a thousand distressing fears concerning futurity, and makes his condition unhappy, by anticipating the misery he may endure, years to come.

THE PASSIONS.

PASSIONS are strong emotions of the mind, occasioned by the view of approaching good or evil. These emotions are planted in man by Providence, in order to give him activity, and fit him for society. The directing of our passions to improper objects, or suffering them to hurry us away with them, is the great danger in human life.

History is nothing but a catalogue of the miseries brought upon mankind by an improper indulgence of their passions. How ought it to be the constant business of rational creatures to regulate and chastise these internal tyrants! How carefully ought we to guard against yielding to the first impulses! And how ought all our education to be directed to a proper government of them.

Nothing will so effectually contribute to this as a proper sense of religion. Christianity, by a sort of divine alchymy, makes those passions, which have been working for sin, become active in the cause of piety.

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We sometimes see people strive to attain what is beyond their reach. After many vain attempts, they give up the pursuit, and then pretend that the object they sought so ardently is worthless, and that they would not have it if they could. Such people are alluded to in the following Fable.

A Fox, who having failed to pick,

Though prowling all around the village,
The bones of goose, or duck, or chick,
Was bent on any sort of pillage;

Saw, from a trellis, hanging high,

Some Grapes, with purple bloom inviting;

His jaws with heat and hunger dry,

The luscious fruit would fain be biting.

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