But ye who soothe the widow's woe
And give the orphan food,
For you this liquid pearl shall flow,
The tear of gratitude.
Ye who but slake an infant's thirst
In heavenly mercy's name,
Or proffer penury a crust,
The sweet reward may claim: Then while you rove life's sunny banks, With sweetest flow'rets strewed, Still may you claim the widow's thanks, The orphan's gratitude.
SPEAK NO ILL.
SPEAK no ill of erring kindred,
Breathe no slander on the name
Of thy brother, unbefriended,
Tarnish not his humble fame,
Let thy lips for e'er be sealed
'Gainst the weakness of another,
Till thine own frail heart is healed,
Utter nought against thy brother,
Lips may check, aye blight forever,
Ardent hopes and joyous hearts;
Poison-tipp'd, the tongue may sever
Idol-friends, by cruel arts;
Or, harmless, it may firmly fasten
Kindred souls with golden coil,
And may, cheerful, aid and hasten
Youth to fortune from his toil.
Hard the heart that seeks its glory
On the crushed heart's funeral pile; Weak the tongue that lends its story Only to its kind revile.
Such a spirit sinks our nature—
Tramples on the law of love-
Spurns the blessings of our Maker,
Sent, in kindness, from above.
GENTLE WORDS.
Ir is not much the world can give
With all its subtle art,
And gold or gems are not the things
To satisfy the heart;
But oh! if those who cluster round
The altar and the hearth,
Have gentle words and loving smiles,
How beautiful is earth!
As fades the evening light away
Along the glowing western sky,
May every earthly thought to-day,
Born of this world, in brighter die.
And may the teachings of thy word
This day received, through life remain;
Their gentle influence still afford
To soothe each woe, to calm each pain.
Wilt thou be with us when apart,
Together, wilt thou be our stay;
And grave upon thy children's heart,
The lessons of this holy day.
So when temptation's evening rolls
Her shadows dim, o'er faith's pure sky, Shall thy blest word steal o'er our souls, And bid the gathering darkness fly.
In the calm twilight of the soul,
Let their blest influence be given,
Till far o'er earth and sin's control,
We leave this world, to rest in heaven.
THE MUSIC OF NATURE.
BY N. JOHNSON.
OH! there's a gentle murmuring
In every passing breeze,
That breathes with flute-like music,
Among the leafy trees.
There's music to its lover's ear
Amid the ocean's roar,
As with slow and ceaseless motion,
It breaks upon the shore.
The cataract its echo sends,
Of music, far and wide,
As onward in its majesty,
It pours its restless tide.
The mountain stream that dashes
Down its steep and rocky bed,
Oft to its banks by music sweet,
The stranger's steps hath led.
The song of birds, the insect's hum,
The softly falling shower,
Whisper in sweet and varied sounds
God's goodness, love and power.
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