DUTY. PEARLS before swine: this is an old complaint; To rest with man's neglect well satisfied, The heart that lives on praise! considering nought Of Duty's royal edicts, that command Thy talents to be lent, thy lamp to shine: Soul, be not faint; nor, body, stay thy hand; Heed only this, not whether those be swine But whether these be pearls, precious and pure; That so, whatever fate the world make thine, With God for Judge, thy guerdon be secure. COUNSEL. FOR MUSIC. THERE is a time for praising, And a better time for pray'r,— Or uttering its care: One minute is for smiling, And another for the tear, Hope, by turns, beguiling, Or her haggard brother, Fear. But, if in joy thou praisest The generous Hand that gave,- The prayer that He may save; HOME. FOR MUSIC. I NEVER left the place that knew me, I am not of those who wander (Though my faithless foot may roam) BYEGONES. FOR MUSIC. "LET byegones be byegones," they foolishly say, And bid me be wise and forget them; But old recollections are active to-day, And I can do nought but regret them; Though the present be pleasant, all joyous and gay, I love to look back on the years past away, If the morning of life has a mantle of gray, If March has its storm, there is sunshine in May, Thus the present is pleasant, a cheerful to-day, Because it is tinged with the mellowing ray RULE, BRITANNIA! A STIRRING SONG FOR PATRIOTS, IN THE YEAR 1860. To the tune of "Wha wouldna fight for Charlie ?” RISE! ye gallant youth of Britain, For we love our country still,- Raise that thrilling shout once more; France is coming, full of bluster, Dare to cross our ocean-gulf, Wait not then for judge nor jury,— Shoot them as you would a wolf! For Britannia, just Britannia, Claims our chorus as before; Rule, Britannia! Rule, Britannia! Conqueror over sea and shore. They may writhe, for we have galled them See, uprear'd our holy standard! Crowd around it, gallant hearts ! What! should Britain's fame be slandered As by fault on our parts Let the rabid Frenchman threaten, Let the mad invader come, We will hunt them out of Britain, For Britannia, dear Britannia, Wakes our chorus evermoreRule, Britannia! Rule, Britannia ! Conqueror over sea and shore. Rise then, patriots! name endearing, Flock from Scotland's moors and dales, From the green, glad fields of Erin, From the mountain homes of Wales,RISE! for sister England calls you, RISE! Our common weal to serve, RISE! while now the song enthralls you, Thrilling every vein and nerve, Hail, Britannia! hail, Britannia! THE EMIGRANT SHIP. FOR MUSIC. FAR away, far away, The emigrant ship must sail to-day: Cruel ship,—to look so gay Bearing the exiles far away. Sad and sore, sad and sore, Many a fond heart bleeds at the core, Bitter sorrow, sad and sore. Many years, many years At best will they battle with perils and fears; Cruel pilot, for he steers The exiles away for many years. Long ago, long ago! For the days that are gone their tears shall flow: Cruel hour,-to tear them so From all they cherished long ago. Fare ye well, fare ye well! To joy and to hope it sounds as a knell Far away, far away! Is there indeed no hope to-day? Cruel and false it were to say There are no pleasures far away. |