Trust not to that.-Act you your part;
Imprint just morals on their heart;
Impartially their talents scan;
Just education forms the man.
But parents, to their offspring blind,
Consult nor parts nor turn of mind:
And ev❜n in infancy decree

What this, what t'other son shall be.
Had you with judgment weigh'd the case,
Their genius then had fix'd their place.

Consider man in every sphere;
Then tell me, is your lot severe ?
'Tis murmur, discontent, distrust,
That makes you wretched, Gop is just.

How false we judge by what appears!
All creatures feel their sev'ral cares.

How weak, how vain is human pride!
Dares man upon himself confide?
The wretch, who glories in his gain,
Amasses heaps on heaps in vain.
Can those (when tortur'd by disease).
Cheer our sick heart, or purchase ease?
Can they prolong one gasp of breath,
Or calm the troubled hour of death?
Consider, man; weigh well thy frame;
The king, the beggar is the same.
Dust form'd us all. Each breathes his day,
Then sinks into his native clay.

The prince who kept the world in awe,
The judge whose dictate fix'd the law,
The rich, the poor, the great, the small,
Are levell'd.-Death confounds them all.

YOUNG.

NIGHT THOUGHTS,

Be wise to-day; 'tis madness to defer;
Procrastination is the thief of time e;

Year after year it steals, till all are fled,
And to the mercies of a moment leaves
The vast concerns of an eternal state.

At thirty man suspects himself a fool;
Knows it at forty, and reforms his plan;
At fifty chides his infamous delay,
Pushes his prudent purpose to resolve;
In all the magnanimity of thought

Resolves; and re-resolves; then dies the same. And why? Because he thinks himself immortal. All men think all men mortal, but themselves; Themselves, when some alarming shock of fate Strikes through their wounded hearts.

Guard well thy thought! our thoughts are heard in heaven.

The man who consecrates his hours

By vig'rous effort, and an honest aim,
At once he draws the sting of life and death.

'Tis greatly wise to talk with our past hours, And ask them, what report they bore to heaven; And how they might have borne more welcome

news.

Their answers form what men experience call.

To hope the best is pious, brave, and wise !

Why all this toil for triumphs of an hour?
What tho' we wade in wealth, or soar in fame?
Earth's highest station ends in-" Here he lies :"
And " dust to dust" concludes her noblest song.

Talents, angel bright,

If wanting worth, give infamy renown.

If wrong our hearts, our heads are right in vain.

+

Right ends and means make wisdom; worldly-wise
Is but half-witted at its highest praise.
Our hearts ne'er bow but to superior worth.

'Tis great, 'tis manly, to disdain disguise.

And some forgiveness needs the best of friends.

From purity of thought, all pleasure springs,
And from an humble spirit, all our peace.

Th' ALMIGHTY, from his throne, on earth surveys
Nought greater than an honest humble heart.

Wealth may seek us, but wisdom must be sought;
Sought before all; but (how unlike all else
We seek on earth!) 'tis never sought in vain.

The first sure symptom of a mind in health,
Is rest of heart, and pleasure felt at home.

Patience and resignation are the pillars
Of human peace on earth.

Eternity, depending on an hour,

Makes serious thoughts man's wisdom, joy, and praise.

Haste, haste! a man by nature is in haste;
For who shall answer for another hour?

Some ills we wish for, when we wish to live.

Since Adam fell, no mortal uninspir'd
Has ever yet conceiv'd, or ever shall,

How kind is GOD, how great (if good) is man.
No man too largely from Heav'n's love can hope,
If what is hop'd he labours to secure.

Thus the three Virtues least alive on earth,

Are welcom❜d on Heav'n's coast with most ap

plause,

An humble, pure, and heav'nly-minded heart.

In ev'ry storm that either frowns or falls,
What an asylum has the soul in prayer?

Art thou ashamed to bend thy knee to God?

Not deeply to discern, not much to know,
Mankind was born to wonder and adore.

LOVE OF FAME.

Who, for the poor renown of being smart,
Would leave a sting within a brother's heart?

How oft the noon, how oft the midnight bell,
(That iron tongue of death) with solemn knell,
On folly's errands as we vainly roam,

Knocks at our hearts and finds our thoughts from home!

Our ardent labours, for the toys we seek,
Join night to day, and Sunday to the week.

What's female beauty, but an air divine,
Through which the mind's all gentle graces shine?
They, like the sun, irradiate all between :
The body charms, because the soul is seen.
Hence men are often captives of a face,
They know not why, of no peculiar grace:
Some forms, though bright, no mortal man can
bear,

Some none resist, though not exceeding fair.
Then wrought into the soul let virtues shine,
The ground eternal as the work divine.

In simple manners all the secret lies,

Be kind and virtuous, you'll be blest and wise.
For what's true beauty, but fair virtue's face?
Virtue made visible in outward grace.

Few to good breeding make a just pretence :
Good breeding is the blossom of good sense,
The last result of an accomplish'd mind.

Can wealth give happiness?

Look round and see

What gay distress! What splendid misery!

Think nought a trifle, though it small appear; Small sands the mountain, moments make the year,

And trifles life.

J

Distrust mankind, with your own heart confer,
And dread even there to find a flatterer.

Oh! sacred Solitude, divine retreat,
Choice of the prudent, envy of the great;
By thy pure stream, or in thy waving shade,
We court fair Wisdom, that celestial maid:
There, blest with health, with business unperplex'd,
This life we relish, and ensure the next.

The man who pardons disappoints his foe,

Be wise with speed,

A fool at forty is a fool indeed.

Women were made to give our eyes delight:
A female sloven is an odious sight.

Our greatest good, and what we least can spare, Is Hope; the worst of all our evils, Fear.