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ABASHED be all the boast of age,

Be hoary learning dumb,
Expounder of the mystic page,
Behold an infant come.

O Wisdom, whose unfading power

Beside the Eternal stood,
To frame, in nature's earliest hour,

The land, the sky, the flood ;

Yet didst not Thou disdain awhile

An infant form to wear;
To bless thy mother with a sinile,

And lisp thy faltered prayer.

But, in thy Father's own abode,

With Israel's elders round,
Conversing high with Israel's God,

Thy chiefest joy was found.

So may our youth adore thy name,

And, Saviour, deign to bless
With fostering grace the timid flame

Of early holiness.


By cool Siloam's shady rill

How sweet the lily grows,
How sweet the breath beneath the hill

Of Sharon's dewy rose.
Lo, such the child whose early feet

The paths of peace have trod;
Whose secret heart, with influence sweet,

Is upward drawn to God.
By cool Siloam's shady rill

The lily must decay;
The rose that blooms beneath the hill

Must shortly fade away.
And soon, too soon, the wintry hour

Of man's maturer age,
Will shake the soul with sorrow's power,

And stormy passion's rage.
O T'hou, whose infant feet were found

Within thy Father's shrine,
Whose years, with changeless virtue crowned

Were all alike divine,
Dependent on thy bounteous breath,

We seek thy grace alone,
In childhood, manhood, age and death,

To keep us still thine own.


0, hand of bounty, largely spread,
By whom our every want is fed,
Whate'er we touch, or taste, or see,
We owe them all, O Lord, to thee;
The corn, the oil, the purple wine,
Are all thy gifts, and only thine.

The stream thy word to nectar dyed,
The bread thy blessing multiplied,
The stormy wind, the whelming flood,
That silent at thy mandate stood,
How well they knew thy voice divine,
Whose works they were, and only thine.

Though now no more on earth we trace.
Thy footsteps of celestial grace,
Obedient to thy word and will
We seek thy daily mercy still ;
Its blessed beams around us shine,
And thine we are, and only thine.


INCARNATE Word, who, wont to dwell
In lowly shape and cottage cell,
Didst not refuse a guest to be
At Cana's poor festivity :

0, when our soul from care is free,
Then, Saviour, may we think on Thee,
And seated at the festal board,
In Fancy's eye behold the Lord.

Then may we seem, in Fancy's ear,
Thy manna-dropping tongue to hear,
And think,

even now, thy searching gaze Each secret of our soul surveys!

So may such joy, chastised and pure,
Beyond the bounds of earth endure ;
Nor pleasure in the wounded mind
Shall leave a rankling sting behind.

FOR THE SAME. WHEN on her Maker's bosom

The new-born earth was laid, And nature's opening blossom

Its fairest bloom displayed; When all with fruit and flowers

The laughing soil was dressed, And Eden's fragrant bowers

Received their human guest; No sin his face defiling,

The heir of Nature stood, And God, benignly smiling,

Beheld that all was good. Yet in that hour of blessing,

A single want was known; A wish the heart distressing;

For Adam was alone. 0, God of pure affection,

By men and saints adored, Who gavest thy protection

To Cana's nuptial board, Alay such thy bounties ever

To wedded love be shown, And no rude hand dissever

Whom thou hast linked in one.

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