Cease, babbler !-let those doubtings cease: What? should a son of heaven Mix up this faithless leaven? My good, and seeming ill. SOCIETY. ALAS, we do but act; we are not free: My trammelled spirit strives to break, in vain ; ON AN INFANT.* Look on this babe; and let thy pride take heed, Thy pride of manhood, intellect, or fame, That thou despise him not: for he indeed, And such as he, in spirit and heart the same, Are God's own children in that kingdom bright Where purity is praise,-and where before The FATHER'S throne, triumphant evermore, The ministering angels, sons of light, Stand unreproved; because they offer there, Mix'd with the Mediator's hallowing pray'r, The innocence of babes in Christ like this: O guardian Spirit, be my child thy care, Lead him to GOD, obedience and bliss, To GOD, O fostering cherub, thine and his! * William Knighton Tupper, the Author's second son. EPILOGUE. ARE there no sympathies, no loves between us? Hath seem'd self-praise,—doth it indeed demean us The quick spontaneous fire of thoughts and words, Which is my grace and glory to possess. |