Remembrance of the gall drank up,
And bitter herbs that earth hath given,
She knows will sweeter spice the cup
That crowns the bridal board of heaven.
Grace, Grace, aright to prompt the pen !
Grace, skilful Grace! aright to show
How best may reach the hearts of men,
The polished shaft from Wisdom's bow.
And pen and press, and tongue and powers,
Impartial, true, and firm and free
Thy gifts, oh, God! — both we and ours
Will consecrate again to thee.
No hallowed oils, no grains I need,
rags of saints, no purging fire.
OH, Lord at thy throne, a poor Israelite, kneeling,
In lowliness, comes with a prayer to thee now;
With confidence, yet in emotion, revealing
The reverence that awes, as he ventures to bow.
Yet how shall he come? for the cherubims' token
Is faded that waved once o'er Mercy's bright seat;
By Urim and Thummim thy will is not spoken,
And darkness is where burned, Shechinah! thy feet.
No longer may he, on Samaria's mountain,
Bow down, nor to Zion of David repair;
Siloa flows sweetly, yet songs by that fountain
Ascend not to thee, nor from Olivet prayer,-
Oh, Thou! that didst bring out thy chosen in power
From Pharaoh, what boots it thou humbledst his pride?
For we, the delivered, are whelmed at this hour
As deep as his horsemen that sank in the tide.
Forgive, oh, thou Just One!—our fathers in folly,
Forsaking thy service, to idols did turn,
And under the green tree, the myrtle and holly,
On high places incense to Baal did burn ;*
And thou didst reject them, and judgment succeeding
To judgment, gave sign of the wrath of the Lord, –
Their valiant men routed, their heritage bleeding, t
Thou wentest no longer with buckler and sword.
And now we are peeled, and a jest to the nations,
And scattered among them as leaves that are sere;
With ashes are mingled our bitter oblations,
The cup of our trembling is dashed with a tear.
Yet think upon Abraham!—the oath that unto him
Thou swear'st by thy greatness, none other so high,
And think on the seed that by faith thou didst show him,
As countless as stars on the Syrian sky. ‡
* We acknowledge, oh, Lord, our wickedness, and the iniquity of our fathers. Jer. xiv. 20.
I have forsaken my house, I have left my heritage-they have made it desolate. - Jer. xii. 7, 11.
And he brought him forth abroad, and said, Look now toward heaven, and tell the stars if thou be able to number them; and he said unto him, So shall thy seed be. Gen. xv. 5.
That oath is unbroken! that covenant never
Could perish, though Thee have thy people forgot;
That seed is uncounted-by kingdoms wherever
Did families cluster, and Israel not?
Thy Zion, though homeless and humbled, is written,
Thou graciously saidst, in remembrance above;
Her walls are before thee,* and now that she's smitten,
She turns to her Maker, and sues for his love.
Then oh, of her thousands, if here is one trusting
In Thee, that would come in contrition alone,
Wilt thou not accept him, and heal the heart bursting
With grief for its guilt, by a glance from the throne !
I search for the Prince of mysterious story,—
I gaze on the garden, the manger and tree,-
The tomb of his victory-I find there his glory,
But Him in the mercy that looks upon me!
BOSTON! that sittest in thy pride,
A very queen ·
Whose arms to the afflicted, wide
Open are seen;
Who never, on thy noble throne,
By Commerce built
Didst close thy ears to Misery's moan,
* Behold I have graven thee upon the palms of my hands; thy walls are continually before me. - Isaiah xlix. 16.
Where art thou, while the dreadful cries
Of houseless hundreds ring?
Where art thou, while the bitter sighs,
The Southern breezes bring,
Of those who draw the panting breath,
Whose home, the flames
Have swept away, whose bodies, Death
Eagerly claims ?
Hast thou not heard that yonder mart,
Whose thousand ships
Find mighty Trade's remotest heart,
Wherever dips
The needle, hath the element
Laid waste?
That death hath noonday arrows spent,
With fearful haste,
Among her proudest, loveliest?
On his pale steed
How sate the rider! Now do rest
Where worms shall feed,
Her children, on whom yester's sun
Did gaily shine –
To pleasure, love, and life's joys won,
Freely as thine !
Think! - they are of thy flesh and bone, Blood of thy blood;
They kneel with thee at Freedom's throne, They worship God;
Thy wandering sons and daughters they, With generous heat
For their loved mother in the North, away,
Their pulses beat;
And never would their hearts be lapped
In selfish ease,
Did fires thy fair possessions wrap,
Thy sons, disease.
By dear humanity's sweet claim,
By pity's gem—
By pride, ambition, yea, by shame,
Look thou to them!
So near our cradles to our coffins are.- Drummond of Hawthornden.
Two items make, of furniture, our store,
And choicest luxury need crave no more.
They're ample for the rich; of them possessed,
Is poverty with full abundance blest.
The Cradle, where is rocked our earliest cry,
The Coffin, where is hushed our latest sigh;
And all between is superfluity,
Unworthy, mortal, such regards of thee.
Fix, then, thine eye on these, and let thy heart
Seek for its furniture the better part,
Such as the wiser Mary chose; nor let
Inferior things thy noble spirit fret.
- till thou and I possess the land Whose palaces are decked by God's own hand.
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