That to act, whate'er betide,

Nobly on the Christian plan,

This is still the surest guide,

How to be the Gentleman!

WARNING.

THINK not, O man, that strong Temptation's hour,
For all thy might of mind, is past to thee;

Dream not, presumptuous, that thy state is free
From evil chance and change and Satan's power.

Hot Nature still may vex thy soul within,

And fire its house with wantonness or strife,
Still can thy heart make shipwreck of its life,
And drown in gulphs of dark tumultuous sin.

How canst thou guess the trials coming near,
Or whether some lost spirit be not sent
To lure thy pride to some due punishment,
For that, high-minded, thou hast cast off fear?

Oh never is there safety for the soul

Out of true humbleness; the purest saint

Shall burst through grace, and habit's good constraint,

If lust and pride within him win control.

Then, be thou ware, frail creature! watch and pray; Thou hast no stores, but only manna given;

Go, flee temptation at the gates of heaven, And humbly ask thy daily bread to-day.

THE die is cast,-be satisfied;

The chance is past,-be still :
For this, no more Occasion's tide
Can waft thee good or ill;

The hour is gone, the deed is done,
And all the battle lost or won.

Stand on the Fact in patience strong,

And never nurse regret;

Bid this stern Present, right or wrong,
That dreamy Past forget;

And work with all thy skill and power

The living duties of the hour.

All else is nought, all else is dead,

Disguise it as we may ;

Causes with yesterday have sped,

Results are here to-day;

Take them, and use them as you can,

Right loyally for GOD and Man.

The Thought that was not born a Thing

Is only false Romance;

Reality is Nature's King,

Unfearing change or chance;

When men can stand upon a Fact,
Duty shows clear, and Faith may act.

THE COMMON COMPLAINT.

TYRANNIC Circumstance! whose jealous power
Guards every turn, and watches every hour,
With secret influences controlling still
The conduct, and the spirits, and the will,
Alas, that each of us is seen a slave,
In fetters from the cradle to the grave!
What?—am I free? each natural bent within,
Inherited infirmity and sin,

The brain, the disposition, and the shape,
And new-hatched passion, slumbering or agape
With tastes inclined for normal peace or strife,
These warp the man, and mould his heart and life:
What?-am I free? each artifice without,

Wherein convention hedges us about,

Family likenesses of make and mind,

Habit, example, usage harsh or kind,

And every tone and temper all around,

These link the chain to keep the freeman bound!

Poor Gulliver, the giant of the skies,
Is tied to earth by countless petty ties;

Helpless in head and body, hands and feet,
Worried by pigmies with their arrowy sleet,
Humbled to wants, and cow'd by disesteem,
And seeing things around as in a dream,
Prostrate he lies,—with all his wit and power
Made captive to the trifles of the hour!

ANSWERED.

113

ANSWERED.

AND yet,-What is this ruthless Circumstance?—
A stolid Fate! or trivial thing of Chance?
What, O thou discontented! is this Power
Guiding thy way, and guarding every hour?
Is it aught else than GOD's paternal care,—
His Providence o'erruling everywhere,
His kind and mighty and mysterious Will
That fix'd thee where thou art, and holds thee still?
O blind and ignorant,—who dost not know

That all our checks and trials here below,

Our inner crosses, and our outer cares,

Our wants, temptations, sorrows, fears, and snares
That all the disappointment and the strife
Which baffle hope and break the rest of life,
All, all are sent, and ordered from above
In strictest justice and profoundest Love!
A slave? in fetters ?--Yes, for thou art bound
To toil awhile for everything around;
Not to himself may any creature live,—
Not to delights his time and talents give,—
Not think of Gain amidst a world of Loss,-
But duteously go forth, and bear—a cross!
Thou canst not choose: the lot is cast for thee:
Thy care be still in Duty's path to be;
Under all hindrance striving for the best,—
And leaving Heaven to care for all the rest.

H

THE GOOD AND THE TRUE.

NOTHING lasts that is not good;
Nothing stands that is not true :-
What a thing misunderstood,

What a thought kept out of view!
O pretences, shams, and cheats,
You may strut your little day,—
But Confusion swiftly meets

And surely drives you all away!

Never yet was Truth assail'd,

But the struggle gave it strength; "Great is Truth and has prevail'd" Always comes to pass at length: Never yet was good attack'd,

But the very foe that smote Whiten'd up what slander black'd, And abjured what malice wrote !

What is Good? the pure and kind; What is Truth? the wise and right;

And, in Matter as in Mind,

Both will live in death's despite :

But the bad, the false, the base,

Barely breathe one feverish hour,

Dying out of every place

Like a rootless nosegay flower.