PARENTS.

EXODUS XX. 12.

THE Voice of nature, yea, the voice of God,

Commands to honor those that gave us birth,— Even her, from whose supporting bosom flow'd By far the sweetest stream that flows on earth; Whose tongue of kindness never knew a dearth Of soothing words that could our griefs allayEven him who listen'd to our prattling mirth, Who early taught our infant lips to pray,

And led our tottering steps to walk in wisdom's way.

A parent is indeed a tender friend,

And if once lost, we never more shall find

A bosom that so tremblingly can blend

Its feelings with our own congenial mind; Our lips may speak their anguish to the wind That hurries heedlessly and wildly by

Our hearts, to lonely agony consign'd,

May throb without relief-for no reply

Comes from the mouldering breasts that in their gravebed lie.

And then we pause to think-alas! how late!-
Of deeds that wrung a parent's heart with pain;
And oh! could we but open death's dark gate,
And lead them back into the world again—

Oh! but once more to see their face!-'t is vain!— Once more to hear their voice!-'t is sweetly driven Across our fancy, and expires,—and then

We wish ourselves away-away to heaven,
To weep upon their breast, and there to be forgiven.

SACRED LYRIC.

WHERE can I go from Thee!

All-present Deity!

Nature, and Time, and Thought, thine impress bear; Through earth, or sea, or sky,

Though wide and far I fly,

I turn, and find Thee present with me there.

The perfume of the rose,

And every flower that blows,

All mark thy love; the clusters of the vale,
The corn that crowns the fields,

The fruits the garden yields,

Proclaim the bounties that can never fail.

The vapor and the cloud,

The thunder bursting loud,

Speak of thy majesty in words of flame;
The ocean as it roars,

Lashing the rocks and shores,
Declares from what a mighty hand it came.

The vasty globes that roll,

Each on his own firm pole,

Through all the boundless fields of space alone,

Prove that, indeed, Thou art

The life-wheel and the heart
Of systems to our little world unknown.

From thee I cannot fly;
Thine all-observing eye

Marks the minutest atom of thy reign;
How far soe'er I go,

Thou all my path wouldst know,
And bring the wanderer to this earth again.

But why should I depart?

'Tis safety where thou art; And could one favor'd spot thy being hold, I, poor, and vain, and weak,

That sacred spot would seek,

And dwell within the shelter of thy fold!

A THOUGHT ON THE SEA-SHORE.

BEYOND, beyond that boundless sea,
Above that dome of sky,
Further than thought itself can flee,
Thy dwelling is on high:
Yet dear the awful thought to me,
That thou, my God, art nigh:-

Art nigh, and yet my laboring mind
Feels after thee in vain,

Thee in these works of power to find,
Or to thy seat attain.

Thy messenger, the stormy wind,
Thy path, the trackless main-

These speak of thee with loud acclaim;
They thunder forth thy praise,
The glorious honor of thy name,

The wonders of thy ways:
But thou art not in tempest-flame,
Nor in day's glorious blaze.

We hear thy voice, when thunders roll,
Through the wide fields of air;
The waves obey thy dread control;—
Yet still thou art not there.
Where shall I find him, O my soul,
Who yet is everywhere?

O, not in circling depth, or height,
But in the conscious breast,
Present to faith, though veil'd from sight,
There does his spirit rest.

O come, thou Presence Infinite,

And make thy creature blest.

TO A FRIEND UNDER CALUMNY.

""T is from the Lord," the humbled monarch cried, "Even let him curse." And so he kiss'd the rod, O'erlook'd the injurer, and bow'd to God.

O majesty of meekness, which defied

The impotence of tongues, and calm relied

On him who judgeth righteously! "From men Who are thy sword,"-so pray'd the sufferer then,— "From evil tongues, thy scourge, and men of pride, O Lord, deliver me!" Yet, who can tell,

But those who have endured, how keen the pain That Slander's fangs, tongues set on fire of hell, And venom'd whispers that inflict a stain,

Can cause the innocent man? But O, 't is great Meekly to suffer wrong, and feel it causeless hate.

BENEFIT OF TRIALS.

WHEN thou art in thy chamber, and thy knee
Is bow'd in love to the Omnipotent,

And when thy soul before his throne is bent,
Ask not for prosperous things; but pray that he
Will purify thee with the chastisement

Of earthly wo and trouble, which are sent To fit the high soul for eternity.