HUMAN FRAILTY.

Weak and irresolute is man ;

The purpose of to-day, Woven with pains into his plan, To-morrow rends away.

The bow well bent and smart the spring,

Vice seems already slain,

But passion rudely snaps the string,

And it revives again.

Some foe to his upright intent
Finds out his weaker part,

Virtue engages his assent,

But pleasure wins his heart.

'Tis here the folly of the wise

Through all his heart we view, And while his tongue the charge denies, His conscience owns it true.

Bound on a voyage of awful length

And dangers little known,

A stranger to superior strength,

Man vainly trusts his own.

Peace.

But oars alone can ne'er prevail

To reach the distant coast,

The breath of heaven must swell the sail,
Or all the toil is lost.

ON PEACE.

Come, peace of mind, delightful guest!
Return and make thy downy nest

Once more in this sad heart:
Nor riches I, nor power pursue,
Nor hold forbidden joys in view,
We therefore need not part.

Where wilt thou dwell if not with me,
From avarice and ambition free,

And pleasure's fatal wiles?

For whom, alas! dost thou prepare
The sweets that I was wont to share,
The banquet of thy smiles?

The great, the gay, shall they partake
The heaven that thou alone canst make;
And wilt thou quit the stream

That murmurs through the dewy mead,
The grove and the sequester'd shed,

To be a guest with them?

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For thee I panted, thee I prized,

For thee I gladly sacrificed

Whate'er I loved before;

And shall I see thee start away,

And helpless, hopeless, hear thee say—

Farewell! we meet no more?

ON THE SHORTNESS OF HUMAN LIFE.

Suns that set, and moons that wane,

Rise, and are restored again;

Stars that orient day subdues,

Night at her return renews.

Herbs and flowers, the beauteous birth
Of the genial womb of Earth,
Suffer but a transient death
From the winter's cruel breath.
Zephyr speaks; serener skies
Warm the glebe, and they arise.
We, alas! Earth's haughty kings,
We, that promise mighty things,
Losing soon life's happy prime,
Droop and fade in little time.
Spring returns, but not our bloom;

Still 'tis winter in the tomb.

Hear, Lord, the song of praise and prayer,
In heaven thy dwelling-place,
From infants, made the public care,
And taught to seek thy face!

Thanks for thy Word and for thy Day;

And grant us, we implore, Never to waste in sinful play Thy holy Sabbaths more.

Thanks that we hear, but oh! impart

To each desires sincere,

That we may listen with our heart,
And learn as well as hear.

For if vain thoughts the minds engage

Of elder far than we,

What hope that at our heedless age
Our minds should e'er be free?

Much hope, if thou our spirits take
Under thy gracious sway,
Who canst the wisest wiser make,

And babes as wise as they.

Wisdom and bliss thy word bestows,
A sun that ne'er declines;

And be thy mercies shower'd on those
Who placed us where it shines.

SIMPLE TRUST.

Still, still, without ceasing,

I feel it increasing,

This fervour of holy desire;

And often exclaim,

Let me die in the flame

Of a love that can never expire!

Had I words to explain

What she must sustain

Who dies to the world and its ways;

How joy and affright,

Distress and delight,

Alternately chequer her days.

Thou, sweetly severe !

I would make thee appear,
In all thou art pleased to award,

Not more in the sweet

Than the bitter I meet,

My tender and merciful Lord.