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And if the storms are wild,

And we perish in the sea,
We'll clasp each other and our child-

One grave shall hold the three !

And neither shall remain

To meet and bear alone
The cares, the injuries, the pain,

That we, my love, have known.

And there's a sweeter joy,

Wherever we may be :
Danger nor death can e'er destroy

Our trust, O God! in thee!
Then wherefore should we grieve,

Or what have we to fear ? Though home, and friends, and life, we leave,

Our God is ever near.

If he who made all things,

And rules them, is our own, Then every grief and trial brings

Us nearer to his throne.

Then come, my gentle bride,

And come, my child of love;
What if we've nought on earth beside,

Our portion is above!
Sweep! mighty ocean, sweep!

Ye winds, blow foul or fair,
Our God is with us on the deep!
Our home is everywhere.

THE DYING BLIND BOY TO HIS MOTHER.

Mother, I am dying now,
Death's cold damps are on my brow!
Leave me not-each pang grows stronger,
Patient watch a little longer.
Sweet it is your voice to hear,
Though dull and heavy grows mine ear;
Wait and take my last adieu,-
Never mother loved like you !
Though your form I ne'er might see,
Your image was not hid from me-
Stamp'd on my adoring mind,
Beautiful, but undefined;
Ever fair and ever bright,
That vision fill'd with delight.
Well I knew, whate'er might be
Those oft-praised forms I could not see,
Might I all their beauty view,
None of them would rival you."
Life to me was sweet and dear,
While I lived thy tales to hear,
Told by you on wintry hearth,
All to make your blind boy mirth;
And I loved my voice to join
In chorus of those hymns divine,
By which you fondly taught your boy
To look to heaven with hope and joy.

Sun or moon I could not see, * It has been related of some who were recovered from early blindness, that they evidently expected to find those whom affection and kindness had endeared to them, the most beautiful to the eye.

*

But love measured time for me : When your kiss my slumber broke, Then I knew the morn had woke; When I heard the loud winds blow, And I felt the warm fire glow, Then I knew 't was winter wild, And kept at home—your helpless child ! When the air grew mild and soft, And the gay lark sang aloft, And I heard the streamlet flowing, And I smelt the wild flower blowing, And the bee did round me hum, Then I knew the spring was come. Forth I wander'd with delight, And I knew when days were bright; When I climb’d the green hill's side, Fancy traced the prospect wide; And 't was pleasant when I press'd The warm and downy turf to rest. Now I never more shall roam The many paths around my home; And you will often look in vain, Nor hail your wandering boy again ; Never more on tiptoe creep, Where he lies as if asleep; Or with a low and plaintive moan, Humming to himself alone, On a bed of wild flowers stretch'd, Starting when a kiss you snatch'd, Till nature whisper'd 't was my mother, And affection gave another ! But 't is sweeter thus to die, With

my

tender mother by,

Than to be in life alone,
When she and every friend were gone.
Mourn not o'er me, broken-hearted,
For not long shall we be parted;
Soon in vales which ever bloom,
Which unfading flowers perfume,
In realms of life, of light, of joy,
You will meet your poor blind boy.

THE VOICE AND TEMPLE OF NATURE.

"T was Eve's pensive twilight, the valley was gray, And the golden streak'd west seem'd the memory of

day; Between the dark trees almost deepen’d to night, The brook yet reflected the soft amber light. And all was so still and so fragrant around, That the fragrance appear'd from the stillness to

creep; It seem'd as if Nature reposed on the ground, And the odor that rose was the breath of her sleep. The nightingale singing within her green cells, Made the woods sweetly mourn with the strains of

her ditty ; O, her notes sobb'd so true, it was Grief when she

tells All the woes of her breast to the listening of Pity. Nought was heard when she paused, but the sound

of the rill,

With its little lone music so silvery and meek,
And the sweet lisping fall, and the landscape so

still, Seem'd as first infant essays of Silence to speak The moon slowly rising behind the tall trees, Her silver globe seem'd to suspend from the pine'T was the calm lamp of Silence—the leaves felt no

breeze, And the world at that moment seem'd form'd but to

shine.

All soothed and subdued in the midst of the scene,
God of Nature! I cried, here Religion may kneel-
This temple thou fillest !-majestic, serene-
On this turf let me worship !—the GODHEAD I feel.

LOVE.

Ther sin who tell us Love can die :
With life all other passions fly,

All others are but vanity.
In heaven Ambition cannot dwell,
Nor Avarice in the vaults of hell ;
Earthly these passions of the earth,
They perish where they have their birth ;

But Love is indestructible.
Its holy flame forever burneth,
From heaven it came, to heaven returneth ;
Too oft on earth a troubled guest,
At times deceived, at times oppressid,

It here is tried and purified,

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