Woe to earth, and all her seed!
Woe, they run to ruin still:
He that runneth well may read
Texts of truth the times afford,
How, in earth's extremest need
Cometh, cometh soon indeed
Our own redeeming Lord!

Lo, the marvels passing strange
Every teeming hour brings,
Daily turns with sudden change
The kaleidoscope of things;
But the Ruler, just and wise,

Orders all, as King of kings,
Hark! His thunders shake the skies,
Lo! His vials are outpour'd!
Earth in bitter travail lies,
And creation groans and cries
For our expected Lord!

Stand in courage, stand in faith!
Tremble not as others may;
He that conquers hell and death
Is the friend of those who pray :
And in this world's destined woe
He will save his own alway
From the trial's furnace glow, -
Till the harvest all is stor'd,
Rescu'd from each earthly foe,
And the terrible ones below,
By our avenging Lord!

Yea, come quickly! Savior, come!
Take us to thy glorious rest,
All thy children yearn for home,
Home, the heaven of thy breast
Help, with instant gracious aid!
That in just assurance blest,
We may watch-nor feel afraid,

I NUMBER you by thousands, unseen friends,
And dearly precious is your love to me;
Yea, what a goodly company ye be!

Far as the noble brotherhood extends

Of Saxon hearts and tongues o'er land and sea: How rich am I in love! the sweet amends For all whatever little else of pain

Some few unkindly cause ;- most rich in love,

From mine own home to earth's remotest ends: Let me then count my store, my glorious gain, This wealth, that my poor merit far transcends, Your loving kindness, echoing from above The Highest Blessing on my works and ways, Ev dove ayabé, my Father's praise :

Yea, let me thank you; let my heart outpour
Unbidden notes of honest gratitude
To all whose yearnings follow me with good,
Loving my mind and all its humble store:
O generous friends! –
- a cordial multitude

Hived in the West, upon that busy shore

Where fair Columbia, Britain's child, is throned Imperial, yet with empire all unowned,

O generous friends! - another cordial band,
From far Australia to the Arctic seas,
And crowds around me in my own dear land, —
How, how to thank for mercies rich as these?
Lo, let me stand and bless from East to West,

From North to South,- because I thus am blest! Aye blest indeed above the lot of men,

And rich in joys that reach the true sublime! For that the magic-music of my pen

Hath won such wealth of love in every clime,
And still shall win such treasure for all time,
Therefore my soul is glad: judge me, my friends,
Is not the poet wealthier in his joys
Than Attalus with all his golden toys?
And, as his growing dynasty extends

To children's children, reigning in the mind,
Is he not great, a monarch of his kind?

Ah me! not so: this thought of pride destroys: Give God the praise: His blessings send this store Of unseen friends by thousands evermore!

ΘΕΩ ΔΟΞΑ.

GERALDINE,

AND

OTHER POEMS.