Of the quacks on spoil intent,
That flocked to our settlement;
Of the swarms of public robbers,
Speculators and land jobbers;
Of the sorry set of teachers,
Of the bogus tribe of preachers,
Of the host of herb physicians,
And of cunning politicians.
But the sun has hid his face,
And the night draws on apace;
Shadows gather in the west,
Beast and bird are gone to rest,
With to-morrow we'll not fail,
To resume our humble tale.

MISCELLANEOUS POEMS,

SONGS, &c.

GOD.

Hail thou great mysterious being,
Thou the unseen yet all-seeing,
To thee we call.

How can a mortal sing thy praise,

Or speak of all thy wondrous ways,
God over all.

God of the great old solemn woods,
God of the desert solitudes,

And trackless sea.

God of the crowded city vast,

God of the present and the past,
Can man know thee?

God of the blue vault overhead,

Of the green earth on which we tread,

Of time and space.

God of the worlds which time conceals,

God of the worlds which death reveals,

To all our race.