ON HEARING THE RESULT OF THE BUFFALO CONVENTION. Hurrah for Van Buren, hurrah for free soil! Hurrah for Van Buren, hurrah all that can! Hurrah for Van Buren, come stand at your post! Hurrah for Van Buren, and bless the glad day, Also the Convention, and the Nominee! We did shout when the news of it fell on our ear, That the crisis to us, had come even this year. Hurrah for Van Buren, again let us shout! On the seventh of November, pray prove yourselves stout! Therefore draw together and save our blest land. Hurrah for Van Buren once more we do say! Come up to the polls, be valiant and string. Hurrah for Van Buren, and for many more! Which have stood at their posts, and yet they endure; Now ladies we'll give a hearty response, For long have we sought to relieve from their bonds, It is true we are helpless like the Slaves of the South, Yet we feel to hurrah with the breath of our mouth, Though anciently some staid, by the stuff it is said, So let us submit to our husband and head. Kind heaven forgive-though first in transgression, My dear Christian friends, a word and I'll stop: CHRIST IN THE GARDEN. While nature was sinking in stillness and rest, While passing a garden, I paused there to hear, In offering to heaven the poor sinner's prayer, I listened a moment then turned to see, His mantle was wet with the dews of the night, His locks by pale moon-beams were glistening and bright His eyes bright like diamonds to heaven were raised, Whilst angels in wonder stood round him amazed. So deep was his sorrow, so fervent his prayers, He answered 'tis Jesus, from Heaven I came. I am thy redeemer, for thee I must die, I heard with attention the tale of his woe, I trembled with horror and loudly did cry: How sweet was that moment he bade me rejoice, I shouted Salvation, oh! glory to God! I'm now on my journey to mansions above, The day of bright glory is rolling around, THE WHITE PILGRIM. I came to the spot where the white Pilgrim lay, When in a low whisper I heard something say: The tempest may howl, and loud thunder may roar, Yet calm are my feelings, at rest is my soul, The cause of my Master propelled me from home, I bid my companion farewell; I left my sweet children who now for me mourn, I wandered an exile, a stranger below, To publish Salvation abroad, The trump of the Gospel endeavored to blow, But when among strangers and far from my home, No kindred nor relative nigh, I met the contagion and sunk in the tomb, My spirit to mansions on high. Go tell my companion and children must dear, To weep not for Joseph tho' gone, The same hand that led me thro' scenes dark and drear, |