With his hard eye the traitor in my breast, That before humbler intellects is cow'd, Silently shrinking from the common crowd, And only with the highest self-possest. On an Sufant:* Look on this babe; and let thy pride take heed, And such as he, in spirit and heart the same, Are God's own children in that kingdom bright Where purity is praise, — and where before The Father's throne triumphant evermore, The ministering angels, sons of light, Stand unreproved; because they offer there, Mix'd with the Mediator's hallowing pray'r The innocence of babes in Christ like this: O guardian Spirit, be my child thy care Lead him to God, obedience and bliss, To God, O fostering cherub, thine and his! * William Knighton Tupper, the Author's second son. Epilogue: Are there no sympathies, no loves between us? Hath seem'd self-praise, doth it indeed demean us The quick spontaneous fire of thoughts and words, He will not play the hypocrite's ill part, Flinging aside the meed his Mind affords ? No! with all gratitude and humbleness I claim mine own; nor can affect to scorn A gift, of my Creator's goodness born Which is my grace and glory to posess. THE END, |