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The Sun.

Blame not, ye million worshippers of gold-
Modern idolators-their works and ways,
When Asia's children, in the times of old,

Knelt to the sun, outpouring prayer and praise
As to God's central throne; for when the blaze
Of that grand eye is on me, and I stand

Watching its majesty with painful gaze,
I too could kneel among that Persian band,—
Had not the Architect of yon bright sphere
Taught me Himself; bidding me look above,
Beneath, around, and still to find Him-here!

King of the heart, dwelling in no fixt globe,
But gladly throned within the spirit of love,
Wearing that light ethereal as a robe.

The Moon.

I know thee not, O Moon,—thou cavern'd realm,
Sad satellite, a giant ash of death,

Where cold, alternate, and the sulphurous breath

Of ravaging volcanoes, overwhelm

All chance of life like ours,-art thou not

Some fallow world, after a reaping time Of creatures' judgment, resting in thy lot? Or haplier must I take thee for the blot

On God's fair firmament, the home of crime, The prison-house of sin, where damned souls Feed upon punishment ?-O thought sublime, That, amid Night's black deeds, when evil prowls Through the broad world, then, watching sinners well, Glares over all the wakeful eye of-Hell!

Che Stars.

Far-flaming stars, ye sentinels of Space,
Patient and silent ministers around

Your Queen, the moon, whose melancholy face
Seems ever pale with pity and grief profound
For sinful Earth,-I, a poor groveller here,

A captive eagle chain'd to this dull ground,
Look up and love your light in hope and fear;
Hope, that among your myriad host is one,
A kingdom for my spirit, a bright place

Where I shall reign when this short race is run,
An heir of joy, and glory's mighty son!
Yet, while I hope, the fear will freeze my brain-
What if indeed for worthless me remain

No waiting sceptre, no predestined throne?

Our Kingdom.

Hence, doubts of darkness! I am not mine own,
But ransom'd by the King of that bright host:
In Him my just humility shall boast,

And claim through Him that sceptre and that throne.
Yes, world of light,-when by the booming sea
At eve I loiter on this shingly coast,

In seeming idleness,-I gaze on thee,
(I know not which-but one,) fated to be
My glorious heritage, my heavenly home,
A temple and a paradise for me,

Whence my celestial form at will may roam
To other worlds, unthought and unexplored,
Whose atmosphere is bliss and liberty,
The palaces and gardens of the LORD!

Forgive and Forget.

When streams of unkindness, as bitter as gall,
Bubble up from the heart to the tongue,
And Meekness is writhing in torment and thrall,
By the hands of Ingratitude wrung,-
In the heat of injustice, unwept and unfair,
While the anguish is festering yet,

None, none but an angel or GOD can declare

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But, if the bad spirit is chased from the heart,
And the lips are in penitence steep'd,

With the wrong so repented the wrath will depart,
Though scorn on injustice were heap'd;
For the best compensation is paid for all ill,
When the cheek with contrition is wet,

And every one feels it is possible still
At once to forgive and forget.

To forget? It is hard for a man with a mind,
However his heart may forgive,

To blot out all insults and evils behind,
And but for the future to live:

Then how shall it be? for at every turn
Recollection the spirit will fret,

And the ashes of injury smoulder and burn,
Though we strive to forgive and forget.

Oh, hearken! my tongue shall the riddle unseal,
And mind shall be partner with heart,
While thee to thyself I bid conscience reveal,
And show thee how evil thou art :
Remember thy follies, thy sins, and-thy crimes,
How vast is that infinite debt!

Yet Mercy hath seven by seventy times
Been swift to forgive and forget!

Brood not on insults or injuries old,
For thou art injurious too,—

Count not their sum till the total is told,
For thou art unkind and untrue:

And if all thy harms are forgotten, forgiven,

Now mercy with justice is met,

Oh, who would not gladly take lessons of heaven, Nor learn to forgive and forget?

Yes, yes; let a man, when his enemy weeps,
Be quick to receive him a friend;

For thus on his head in kindness he heaps

Hot coals,--to refine and amend;

And hearts that are Christian more eagerly yearn,

As a nurse on her innocent pet,

Over lips that, once bitter, to penitence turn,

And whisper, Forgive and forget.

My Mind to me a Kingdom is.'

Eureka! this is truth sublime,

Defying change, outwrestling time

Eureka! well that truth is told,
Wisely spake the bard of old-
Eureka! there is peace and praise
In this short and simple phrase,
A sea of comforts, wide and deep,
Wherein my conscious soul to steep,
A hoard of happy-making wealth
To doat on, miserly, by stealth,
Through Time my reason's ripest fruit,
For all eternity its root,

Earth's harvest, and the seed of heaven,

To me, to me, by mercy given!

Yes, Eureka,-I have found it,

And before the world will sound it;
This remains, and still shall stay
When life's gauds have past away,
This, of old my treasure-truth,
The bosom joy that warm'd my youth,
My happiness in manhood's prime,
My triumph down the stream of time,
Till death shall lull this heart in age,
And deathless glory crown my page,
My grace-born truth and treasure this,—
"My mind to me a kingdom is."

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