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The bounding pulse, the languid limb,

The changing spirit's rise and fall,
We know that these were felt by him,

For these are felt by all.
He suffered—but his pangs are o'er ;

Enjoyed—but his delights are fled ;
Had friends—his friends are now no more ;

And foes—his foes are dead.

He loved-but whom he loved, the grave

Hath lost in its unconscious womb; Oh she was fair! but nought could save

Her beauty from the tomb.

He saw whatever thou hast seen;

Encountered all that troubles thee; He was—whatever thou hast been;

He is—what thou shalt be.

The rolling seasons, day and night,

Sun, moon, and stars, the earth, the main, Erewhile his portion, life, and light,

To him exist in vain.

The clouds and sunbeams, o'er his eye

That once their shades and glory threw, Have left in yonder silent sky,

No vestige where they flew.

The annals of the human race,

Their ruins since the world began, Of him afford no other trace

Than this—there lived a man!

Father of all! in every age,

In every clime adored,
By saint, by savage, and by sage,

Jehovah, Jove, or Lord !
Thou Great First Cause, least understood,

Who all my sense confined,
To know but this, that Thou art good,

And that myself am blind;

Yet gave me, in this dark estate,

To see the good from ill; And binding nature fast in fate,

Left free the human will :

What conscience dictates to be done,

Or warns me not to do;
This, teach me more than hell to shun;

That, more than heaven pursue.

What blessings thy free bounty gives,

Let me not cast away ;
For God is paid when man receives;

To enjoy is to obey.

Yet not to earth's contracted span

Thy goodness let me bound,
Or think thee Lord alone of man,

When thousand worlds are round.

Let not this weak, unknowing hand,

Presume thy bolts to throw,
And deal damnation round the land,

On each I judge Thy foe.

If I am right, Thy grace impart,

Still in the right to stay ;
If I am wrong, oh, teach my heart

To find that better way!
Save me alike from foolish pride,

Or impious discontent,
At aught thy wisdom has denied,

Or aught thy goodness lent.
Teach me to feel another's woe,

To hide the fault I see:
That mercy I to others show,

That mercy show to me.
Mean though I am, not wholly so,

Since quicken'd by Thy breath;
Oh, lead me wheresoe'er Í

Through this day's life or death;
This day be bread and peace my lot :

All else beneath the sun,
Thou know'st if best bestow'd or not,

And let Thy will be done.
To Thee, whose temple is all space ;

Whose altar, earth, sea, skies;
One chorus let all beings raise !

All nature's incense rise !


WAY.-(7. Godfrey Saxc.)
It was a noble Roman,

In Rome's imperial day,
Who heard a coward croaker,

Before the castle say :
“They're safe in such a fortress;

There is no way to shake it !"

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Where there's a Will, there's a Way. 135

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“On! on!" exclaimed the hero;

“I'll find a way, or make it."
Is fame your aspiration ?

Her path is steep and high ;
In vain he seeks her temple,

Content to gaze and sigh.
The shining throne is waiting,

But he alone can take it
Who says, with Roman firmness,

I'll find a way, or make it !”
Is learning your ambition ?

There is no royal road;
Alike the peer and peasant

Must climb to her abode;
Who feels the thirst for knowledge,

In Helicon may slake it,
If he has still the Roman will,

“To find a way, or make it !"
Are riches worth the getting ?

They must be bravely sought;
With wishing and with fretting

The boon cannot be bought :
To all the prize is open,

But only he can take it,
Who says, with Roman courage,

“ I'll find a way, or make it !"
In love's impassioned warfare

The tale has ever been,
That victory crowns the valiant, -

The brave are they who win :
Though strong is beauty's castle,

A lover still may take it,
Who says, with Roman daring,

“I'll find a way, or make it !"

YOUNG LOCHINVAR.—(Scott.) O, young Lochinvar is come out of the west; Through all the wide Border his steed was the best; And save his good broadsword, he weapons had

none; He rode all unarm’d, and he rode all alone. So faithful in love, and so dauntless in war, There never was knight like the young Lochinvar. He stayed not for brake, and he stopp'd not for

stone, He swam the Esk river where ford there was none; But, ere he alighted at Netherby gate, The bride had consented, the gallant came late: For a laggard in love, and a dastard in war, Was to wed the fair Ellen of brave Lochinvar. So boldly he enter'd the Netherby Hall, 'Mong bridesmen, and kinsmen, and brothers, and

all : Then spoke the bride's father, his hand on his sword, (For the poor craven bridegroom said never a word)

in peace here, or come ye in war ? Or to dance at our bridal, young Lord Lochinvar?”

I long woo'd your daughter, my suit you denied ;Love swells like the Solway, but ebbs like its tideAnd now am I come, with this lost love of mine, To lead but one measure, drink one cup of wine. There are maidens in Scotland more lovely by far, That would gladly be bride to the young Lochinvar." The bride kiss'd the goblet; the knight took it up, He quaft'd off the wine, and he threw down the cup. She look'd down to blush, and she look'd up to

sigh, With a smile on her lips and a tear in her eye.

“ O come ye

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