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There is a fair land in a sweet southern clime,
Another young England indeed,

Which God, in His providence working sublime,
Has kindly reserved till the fulness of time,
To succour His children in need;

A happy new home, which He wills you to seek,
With plenty to have and to spare,

And hope in your bosom, and health on your cheek,
And human affections all eager to speak

Of tenderness waiting you there!

The valleys are rich, and the mountains are green,
And the woods in magnificent state

To the distant horizon o'ershadow the scene,
Where never till now Adam's footstep has been,
And Eve is delaying so late.

Then, haste for your happiness,—joyfully haste
From perils and pains to be free;

For, Providence calls you to gladden the waste,
And freedom, and plenty, and pleasure to taste
In homes that are over the sea.

A Call to the Rich.

(In aid of Mr. Sydney Herbert's exertions on behalf of distressed Needlewomen.)

✪ Christian patriots, men of mighty heart!
One added word to you: the hour is ripe ;
Thousands are thronging eager to depart
From this fierce rivalry in mammon's mart,

To happier shores where penury's hard gripe
On earth's rich zone is loosen'd: hasten then,
Pour out your offerings with a liberal hand,
Earnest in zeal to help your fellow-men,

And from old England this reproach to wipe That, crowded up in corners of the land, Virtuous toil can starve in sorrow's den! Up! use your wealth aright; and prove its worth By generous aid to yonder homeless band, Who look to you to find them homes on earth.

Come as you are.

A RHYME FOR RAGGED SCHOOLS.

(Widely Circulated.)

Come to the school that your friends are preparing,
Poor little brothers, come over to us!

Just as you stand, in the clothes you are wearing,
Though they be ragged and scanty as thus;

Come from the alley, the lane, and the passage,
Come in your rags,-but as clean as you can;
We have a mission to each, and a message,
Happy and true, of his rights as a Man.

Don't be downhearted, if fools for an hour

Laugh at your schooling and treat it with scorn; Answer them truly, that "Knowledge is Power," And that a blockhead were better unborn; Laugh as they may, your laugh will be longest, Your's is for ever, their's but for once;

Soon shall they own you both wisest and strongest; Scholars must govern the fool and the dunce!

Yes, my boys, come! without fear or suspicion,
All that we wish is your gain and your good:
Body and soul to improve your condition,

And we would better it more if we could;
But where we cannot, yourselves may be able,
Willingly coming to hear and to learn,
How, for the soul to be happy and stable,
And, for the body, your living to earn!

So then come over, young scholars, and listen,

Helping yourselves, as in honour you ought! We'll tell you things that'll make your eyes glisten, Brighten the spirit, and heighten the thought: Come then, and welcome, in rags and in tatters, Anyhow come, but as clean as you can ; Come and learn gladly these glorious matters, All the best rights in the duties of Man!

A Missionary Ballad.

(Given, instead of a solicited Lecture, to the Church of England Young Men's Society, for aiding Missions at home and abroad.)

A call to do good from the east to the west!
A call to bless others and so to be blest!

A call from the SAVIOUR, beside Him to stand
And work for His glory, with heart and with hand!
Nurtured in knowledge, and favour'd and spared,
The best of earth's banquet for us is prepared;
Then well should we hasten, at home and abroad,
To care for the poor in the name of the LORD!
For, always about us the poor shall be found,
Poor for both worlds, ever crowding around;
And always the battle of truth must be fought
In sin to be conquer'd, and good to be taught!
Heathens abroad, and heathens at home ;-
Not far is the need for your missions to roam;
Our highways and by-ways, the streets and the lanes,
Claim the first care, and will yield the first gains:

Then,-(for the soldiers of Heaven's true host
Are marshall'd for conquest on every coast,)—
Britain's dear sons on each far-distant land
Ask the next blessing and help at your hand:

Then, let the banner of grace be unfurl'd
Free as the winds, and wide as the world;-
And chiefly, help Zion, poor outcast of sin,
The mercies of GOD through your mercy to win!

Sure is your work of a blessed reward,

Ye serve a good Master in serving the LORD;
Even were others unblest by your zeal,

It is well,-ye are water'd yourselves for your weal!

But,—it is better! yet more shall ye earn,—
Many to righteousness Now shall ye turn,
And like the stars Hereafter shall shine
For ever and ever in glory divine!

Fons Parnassi.

THE SOLACE OF SONG.

Eber babbling, ever bubbling,
Bright as light, and calmly clear,
Cure for every trial troubling,
Solace ever new and near,

Fons Parnassi! free and flowing,
Fons Parnassi! glad and glowing,
Rarefied creative pleasure!

O they lie who say that Song
Is a merely graceful measure,
Just a luxury of leisure,

Not an anthem sweet and strong

Rich in Spiritual treasure

That to Seraphs might belong,

Not a tender consolation

All the cares of life among,

Not the balm of broad creation

In this maze of right and wrong,—

K

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