ANSWER TO W. ROSCOE, ON PARTING WITH HIS LIBRARY. THOU art not friendless now-thou on whose head Friend of the friendless! though his beams be gone, Rich in the only wealth it coveted. Live on in hope! seek thy pure treasure there— Esteems all else but vanity and dust; That God appoints it still, and God is just. SONNET. BY W. ROSCOE. GOD of the changeful year!-amidst the glow Of strength and beauty, and transcendent grace, Which on the mountain heights, or deep below, In sheltered vales, and each sequestered place, Thy forms of vegetable life assume, Whether thy pines, with giant arms displayed, Brave the cold north, or, wrapt in eastern gloom, Thy trackless forests sweep, a world of shade; Or whether, scenting ocean's heaving breast, Thy odoriferous isles unnumbered rise; Or under various lighter forms imprest, Of fruits and flowers, thy work delights our eyes; God of all life! whate'er those forms may be, O! may they all unite in praising thee. SYMPATHY. "Bear ye one another's burdens, and so fulfil the law of Christ." STUPENDOUS LOVE! He who could still the storm, With weary steps the Syrian sands he trod, Shall we not then a brother's burden bear- And learn in sympathy's sweet bonds to live? Can we be Christians, if the heart unkind, Ready to wound, but unprepared to heal? Then let us learn of Him, who what He taught, CONSOLATION. "We sorrow not as those who have no hope." THE loved, but not the lost! Oh, no! they have not ceased to be, "Tis we who still are tossed O'er life's wild sea, 'tis we who die, They only live whose life is immortality. The loved, but not the lost! Why should our ceaseless tears be shed As if their names were crossed The loved, but not the lost! Our sword is scarce unsheathed, our warfare just begun. |