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For him no dream of innocence rose,
No rapture can memory impart;
Revenge has withered his heart.
Its sweets his curses would blight;
Desolation and death his delight.
There the furies of blasphemy dwell:
And he writhes with the laugh of hell.
WHAT IS ETERNITY?
Go thou and mark the holy preacher's tones,
The tossings, writhings, the unutterable
THE BETHEL FLAG.
O BRING the peaceful banner nigh
Whose blazon tells of holy love; And spread the standard to the sky
Whose wavy folds reveal the dove.
'Tis done, and on the soft winds now
I see its streaming curls recline, And deem it as a second bow
of promise, and the blessing mine.
Flag of the pure and azure heaven!
How lovely is thy bearing hereFree as the breezes round thee driven,
Is thy sweet errand on the ear.
Thou markest not the hurrying keel,
Whose foamy path leads on to gold; Thy nobler freighted barques conceal
Gems, Tyre and Tarshish never told.
Thou leadest not the armed host:
Thou art not in the battle's hum; No trump sings of thee, round thee roll
No thunders of the stirring drum.
But unto thee are gathered men,
Whose only panoply is prayer;
Discourse along the listening air.
Thou giv'st to patriot gaze no star.
Nor stripes, a glorious augury; Yet token of victorious war
Thy beaming symbols seem to be.
For they type One, whose tempered shield
Shook off the hurtling darts of sin; When he trod once no doubtful field,
Imperishable crowns to win.
They tell unto the ocean tost,
That He who spans its floods can save; And that for him, the well nigh lost,
The Ark yet lingers on the wave,
They herald joy to the opprest,
And ransom to the sons of thrall: And shadow forth to labour rest
In music of Salvation's call.
With voice of psalms then to the skies
Unfurl the flag, a type of love;
When they reveal the Holy Dove.
“ The impression has very generally obtained that the reformation of drunkards is a hopeless undertaking Facts teach us to renew our efforts to pluck them from the fire, though half con sumed. They may yet be recovered and become useful members of society."
Thou'st snatched the youth from ruin's grave,
And dashed to earth his chain ; And bade him sit, no more a slave,
A man, with men again.
Thou'st rescued from the sorcerer, when
Hope failed to chase the spell;
Wide as the doors of hell.
To crush the cup, concealed in flowers,
Its garlands to untwine,
The triumph, Temperance, thine.
Nor mean that victory--with its song
Is stirred the warriors' graves:
" Our sons no more are slaves!”
Magician of unequalled power!
Who but thyself could dare
And beard him in his lair?