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And though unworthy, finds a friend at Rome;
But oh, the cruel art, that could undo

It's vot'ry thus, would that could perish too!

HOR. LIB. I. ODE IX.

"Vides, ut altâ stet nive candidum
Soracte."

EEST thou yon mountain laden with deep snow,

SE

The groves beneath their fleecy burthen bow, The streams congeal'd forget to flow;

Come, thaw the cold, and lay a cheerful pile
Of fuel on the hearth;

Broach the best cask, and make old winter smile
With seasonable mirth.

This be our part-let Heaven dispose the rest;
If Jove command, the winds shall sleep,
That now wage war upon the foamy deep,
And gentle gales spring from the balmy West.
E'en let us shift to-morrow as we may,

When to-morrow's past away,
We at least shall have to say,
We have lived another day;

Your auburn locks will soon be silver'd o'er,
Old age is at our heels, and youth returns no more.

HOR. LIB. I. ODE XXXVIII.

B

"Persicos odi, puer, apparatus"

OOY, I hate their empty shows,
Persian garlands I detest;

Bring not me the late-blown rose
Ling'ring after all the rest:

Plainer myrtle pleases me

Thus outstretched beneath my vine; Myrtle more becoming thee,

Waiting with thy master's wine.

HOR. LIB. II. ODE XVI.

"Otium Divos rogat in patenti."

Eis ploughs beneath th gean flood,

ASE is the weary merchant's pray'r,

When neither moon nor stars appear,
Or faintly glimmer through the cloud.

For ease the Mede with quiver graced,
For ease the Thracian hero sighs;
Delightful ease all pant to taste,

A blessing which no treasure buys.

For neither gold can lull to rest,
Nor all a Consul's guard beat off
The tumults of a troubled breast,
The cares that haunt a gilded roof.

Happy the man, whose table shows
A few clean ounces of old plate,
No fear intrudes on his repose,
No sordid wishes to be great.

Poor short-lived things, what plans we lay!
Ah, why forsake our native home!
To distant climates speed away;

For self sticks close where'er we roam.

Care follows hard; and soon o'ertakes The well-rigg'd ship, the warlike steed, Her destined quarry ne'er forsakes,

Not the wind flies with half her speed.

From anxious fears of future ill

Guard well the cheerful, happy now;
Gild e'en your sorrows with a smile,
No blessing is unmix'd below.

Thy neighing steeds and lowing herds,
Thy num'rous flocks around thee graze,
And the best purple Tyre affords
Thy robe magnificent displays.

On me indulgent Heav'n bestow'd
A rural mansion, neat and small;
This Lyre-and as for yonder crowd,
The happiness to hate them all.

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WELCOME, CROSS!

IS my happiness below

'TIS

Not to live without the Cross, But the Saviour's power to know Sanctifying every loss:

Trials must and will befall;

But with humble faith to see Love inscribed upon them allThis is happiness to me.

God in Israel sows the seeds

Of affliction, pain, and toil; These spring up and choke the weeds Which would else o'erspread the soil: Trials make the promise sweet,

Trials give new life to prayer,

Trials bring me to His feet,

Lay me low, and keep me there.

Did I meet no trials here,

No chastisement by the way,
Might I not with reason fear
I should prove a castaway!

Bastards may escape the rod,
Sunk in earthly vain delight;
But the true-born child of God
Must not-would not, if he might.

LIGHT SHINING OUT OF DARKNESS.

OD moves in a mysterious way
His wonders to perform;

He plants His footsteps in the sea,
And rides upon the storm.

Deep in unfathomable mines
Of never-failing skill,

He treasures up His bright designs,
And works His sovereign will.

Ye fearful saints, fresh courage take
The clouds ye so much dread
Are big with mercy, and shall break
In blessings on your head.

Judge not the Lord by feeble sense,
But trust Him for His grace;
Behind a frowning providence
He hides a smiling face.

His purposes will ripen fast,
Unfolding every hour;

The bud may have a bitter taste,

But sweet will be the flower.

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