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In thoughts of childhood now!

And when the well-mark'd Bible meets thine eyes,

Gift of a father's love,

Ere thou wert doomed to rove,

How thickly crowd the accusing memories!

Oh, yield thee to the grasp
Of bonds so tenderly entwined!
Oh, let them round thee clasp,

The fair impressions of thy youth to bind !
Then may each earnest plea,

Urged at the throne for thee,

In those past hours, a full acceptance find.

Hast thou a happy hearth?

Then to thy God the altar rear !

The loveliest sight on earth,

Is a whole family assembled there;

There swell Jehovah's praise,

In those heart-stirring lays,

To homes of Scotland so supremely dear!

Then to a holier home

Whose gather'd households ne'er divide,

Thou-thou and thine shall come,

And in the light of God's own face abide!

There shall your voices rise

In loftier harmonies,

Than those which rung around your home fire-side

THERE IS A TONGUE IN EVERY LEAF!

CAROLINE SOUTHEY.

THERE is a tongue in every leaf!

A voice in every rill!

A voice that speaketh everywhere,
In flood and fire, through earth and air,
A tongue that's never still!

'Tis the Great Spirit, wide diffused
Through every thing we see,
That with our spirits communeth
Of things mysterious-Life and Death,
Time and Eternity!

I see Him in the blazing sun,
And in the thunder-cloud!

I hear Him in the mighty roar
That rusheth through the forests hoar,

When winds are piping loud.

I see Him, hear Him, everywhere,

In all things-darkness, light, Silence, and sound; but most of all, When slumber's dusky curtains fall, At the dead hour of night.

I feel Him in the silent dews,

By grateful earth betrayed;

I feel Him in the gentle showers,

The soft south wind, the breath of flowers, The sunshine and the shade.

And yet (ungrateful that I am!)
I've turned in sullen mood

From all these things, whereof He said,
When the great whole was finished,

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My sadness on the loveliest things
Fell like unwholesome dew,
The darkness that encompassed me,
The gloom I felt so palpably,

Mine own dark spirit threw.

Yet He was patient-slow to wrath,
Though every day provoked

By selfish, pining discontent,
Acceptance cold or negligent,
And promises revoked.

And still the same rich feast was spread For my insensate heart

Not always so I woke again,

To join Creation's rapturous strain, "O Lord, how good Thou art!"

The clouds drew up, the shadows fled,
The glorious sun broke out,
And love, and hope, and gratitude
Dispelled that miserable mood

Of darkness and of doubt.

SONNET.

LADY EMMELINE WORTLEY.

SWEET the low music of the loving rain!—
Falling on earth like tears of tenderness,
To soothe it, and to brighten and to bless,
To cleanse its very heart from spot and stain!
So doth it lave it deeply-till again

It wears glad hues of promise and fair dress
Of vernal freshness-while with light caress,
Drops that descending shower-and not in vain!
Then comes the proud sun forth, and soon-behold!—
Earth, like an eastern queen, is blazed with gems,
And cestused with a glistening flood of gold!
Such splendours deck the quivering blades and stems!
Bright robes of glory clasp her with rich fold!
She wears a hundred thousand diadems!

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