O gentle Star, whose light is thrown
O'er the sad path I trace alone:
Have all thy sisters gone to rest,
That thou alone with golden crest,
And wrapt within thy mantle white,
Should softly gleam upon my sight?
For as a friend thou seem'st to guide
My steps, and journey by my side.

To view me with a mournful eye,
To veil thy face as if to sigh,
Then meekly bending down thine ear
The accent of my woes to hear.

O mild effulgence of the sky,

Whose gentle beams of heavenly light,
Soft float in liquid splendour by ;
And pour upon the raptur'd sight.

Ray of that ray, which heav'n pervades,
Light of that light, which never fades;
Still deign to guide me as a friend,
And when my earthly wanderings end,
When death shall close my swimming eyes,
May mercy's peaceful star arise,

And point me to that heavenly shore,
Where I shall need thy light no more.

AN EMBLEM.

I'VE seen a drop of morning dew,
Like some fair gem serene,
That sparkled on a verdant bough
All clad in summer green.

The rising sun absorb'd the tear,
And drank it as it shone;
The winds of winter cleft the bough,
It moulder'd and was gone.

The drop of dew is like the bloom

And morning of our span:

The bough that wither'd in the blast
Is like the life of man.

THE CONFIDENCE OF ALEXANDER.

"HOW can'st thou sleep O King! devoid of fear, "When dangers thicken, and when foes are near?

"How can'st thou sleep? They throng around thy rest,

"And scarce the arrow stays that wounds thy breast."

“ And what think'st thou can harm my helpless head?

"My friend Parmenio watches near my bed.”

But thou, O Christian, hast a firmer friend,
Who near thy steps, and o'er thy couch does bend;
So rise securely, and securely sleep,

For ever at thy side, that watchful guard shall keep.

THE VANITY OF LIFE.

AS waves the grass upon the earth to day,
Which soon the wasting scythe shall sweep away;
As smiles the flow'ret in the verdant field,
Which soon before the passing blast shall yield;
So flourish we upon our beds of clay,
So grow a while, so droop, and so decay.

Dust turns to dust, with ashes, ashes blend,
But upward, upward let the soul ascend;
To God who gave it, let the spirit go,
While the frail form returns to earth below.
A few may sigh upon the grave's cold brink,
A few salt tears the broken soil may drink,
A few sad hearts in agony may bleed,

And pay that tribute, which they soon shall need.

While these frail honours wait the mould'ring dust,
Say, smiles the spirit with the kindred just?
Shine its pure garments in the white rob'd train ?"
Or sound its groans amid the realms of pain?
Ah, who can tell? The cause is God's alone,
Hereafter thou shalt see, and bless that dark un-
known.

PARTING.

FEW friends have we on earth, and when they

part,

The nerve unwinds whose tension tears the heart; And the wan brow all blanch'd with sorrow, turns ; Cold, sunk, and pallid as the clay it mourns.

THE MIDNIGHT PRAYER OF CHRIST.

COME, see the mountain where thy Saviour knelt,

The sad, lone place where he his vigils kept;
Come, feel the midnight blast, his bosom felt,
The cold night-chills, that o'er his temples crept,
While guilty, stupid man all heedless slept ;
And far away his friends forgetful rove;
And cans't thou say for me he wak'd and wept,
For me he agoniz'd, and pray'd, and strove ;
Nor feel one pang of pity, or one thrill of love?

ON HEARING A BELL TOLL BEFORE RISING.

SAD sounding bell! to me thou seem'st to say, Awake, thou sleeper, rise, and come away;