Would but a root of anguish be
A madness and a misery,
A bitter fear, a hideous care
All too terrible to bear,
Kingly,—but king of pains and woes,
The sceptred slave to throbs and throes !

Justly then, my God, to thee,
My royal soul shall bend the knee,
My royal soul, Thy glorious breath,
By Thee set free from guilt and death,
Before Thy Majesty bows down,
Offering the homage of her crown,
Well pleased to sing in better bliss,
“ My God to me a kingdom is.”


MOTHER,-beneath fair Tarring's heavenward spire,

Where in old years thy youthful vows were paid, When God had granted thee thy heart's desire,

And she went forth a wife, who came a id, With mindful steps thus wisely have we stray'd,

Full of deep thoughts: for where that sacred fire

Of Love was kindled, in the self-same spot,

Thou, with the dear companion of thy lot, Thy helpmate all those years, mine honour'd sire,

To-day have found fulfilled before your eyes
The promise of old time ;-look round and see

Thy children's children ! lo, these babes arise,
And call thee blessed : Blessed both be ye!
And in your blessing bless ye these, and me.


At length,--a dreary length of many years,

God's favour hath shone forth ! and blest thee well, O handmaid of the Lord, for all thy tears, For all thy prayers, and hope, and faith—and fears,

With that best treasure of consummate joy A childless wife alone can fully tell

How sorely long withheld—her first-born boy : This blessing is from heav'n; to heav'n once more,

Another Hannah with her Samuel,
Render thou back the talent yielding ten,
A spirit, train'd right early to adore,

A heart, to yearn upon its fellow-men,
A being, meant and made for endless heaven,
This give to God : this, God to thee hath given.


Pearls before swine : this is an old complaint ;

In very humbleness and not in pride The spirit feels it true; yet makes a feint

To rest with man's neglect well satisfied, And have its wealth of words, its stores of thought

Despised or unregarded : woe betide 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.



THERE is a time for praising,

And a better time for pray'r,The heart its anthem raising,

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, And if in woe thou raisest The prayer that He

may save ; Thy griefs shall seem all pleasure,

As the chidings of a Friend, And thy joy's ecstatic measure

A beginning without end !



I NEVER left the place that knew me,

And may never know me more, Where the cords of kindness drew me,

And have gladdend me of yore, But my secret soul has smarted

With a feeling full of gloom For the days that are departed

And the place I call'd my Home.

I am not of those who wander

Unaffectioned here and there, But my

heart must still be fonder Of my scites of joy or care ; And I point sad memory's finger

(Though my faithless foot may roam) Where I've most been made to linger

In the place I call’d my Home.

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