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If grandeur's guilty bribe they spurned, And home to virtue's lap returned; The spirit's way henceforth shall be The glorious pathway of the free!
"Consider the lilies of the field."
YE beauteous things, I love to stray
The voice of music, birds employ
Bursts forth, perhaps, in pomp of dress.
Yes-clad in beauty's liveliest robe,
"Twas said by one,* that ye have wasted,
Though bird, beast, insect, might be there.
O! modest and profound decision,
That man alone your worth observes;
Pray, how knew he that all man misses
Is wasted on the desert air?
Or that the bee-like bird that kisses
But there's no desert-air and earth
Is quickly fanned by insect wings.
Yes, beauteous things, I love to stray
And breathe the sweetness round you spread.
* Gray's Elegy:
"Full many a flower is born to blush unseen,
And waste its sweetness on the desert air."
And oft among you when I wander,
Will serious thought expand her wings,
And taught by you my spirit ponder
On higher and on holier things.
Proofs of our Heavenly Father's love,
Ye bid me hope that He who wrought Such glorious robes for fading grass; Will not cast off, if humbly sought,
His creature of a nobler class.
BENEVOLENCE is that emotion of the mind, which inclines us to sympathise with the feelings of others, and prompts to the relief of suffering. It is manifested not only in desiring to confer happiness, but in avoiding every thing which would give unnecessary pain. Like every other affection of the mind, its healthful state depends upon its proper exercise and direction. If, instead of sympathising with real distress, it is expended in mourning over fictitious and imaginary sorrows, or if, when the sorrow is real, it is unaccompanied by prompt and corresponding action, benevolence degenerates into a sickly sensibility, unproductive of good either to ourselves or others. It is a common error with the young, to overlook the little every day occasions for the exercise of this virtue, while they lament that they are