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THOU little new-born basker in the sun

Stretch'd on thy side-as thou hadst nought to do, But feel how pleasantly thy moments run,

While vernal beams just warm thy vesture thro'!


Ah! start not up, as if thou fearedst me,

And haste thus tottering to thy bleating dam; I were as loath to injure thee as she,

Though she may love thee better, timorous lamb.


And why dread me, too, more than yonder steed, That snorts and trots so loftily around;

As he would lord it over all the mead,

Nor cared if he should crush thee on the ground


Thou had'st not risen thus, I ween, for him;
And even now thou only look'st at me :
What, little youngling, or in face or limb,
Have I to wake thy terror more than he ?


Ah! sin, thou meetest me where'er I stray!
I see thee in the city, and the woods;
Beside the beaten, and sequestered way;
In busiest haunts, and stillest solitudes!


Or rather, I do bring thee in my bosom-
As if my spirit from its home must fly,
Ere it can see beneath the hawthorn blossom
A little milk-white lamb without a sigh!


Time was, thou gentlest playmate of the spring, Thou hadst believed man's look of love sincereNo ill suspected that his form could bring,

But rather licked the hand thou could'st not fear.


All, all is changed! Man treads the green earth now A monarch shunned-too oft with prudent fear : Each creature flees him even from the bough The little warbler flits, when he draws near!


And yet, methinks, while gazing upon thee

Beneath the brightness of this vernal sky, Dim were the faith or dead that could not see More to awaken gladness than a sigh.


If earth remind me, wheresoe'er I rove,
That sinful man is from his Maker riven,
I trace an emblem of redeeming love,
Whether I look upon the earth or heaven.


In thee, sweet type of meekest innocence,

Whose blood ere long some mortal hand shall shed,

I read of one, my refuge and defence,

In silent sorrow to the slaughter led.


And thou, all-glorious renovating sun,

From whose bright beams this living beauty


Thou too remind'st me of the Holy One

The same-but risen with healing in his wings!


Oh, Lamb of God! Oh, sun of righteousness! Atoning Saviour! fount of light and life!

This peaceful walk, I ask of thee to bless,

When comes the world once more with noise and strife.



THEY who are strongly bent on earthly gain,
Fit time for effort with rejoicing see;

And scarce prize ought like opportunity
To prosecute their purpose; nor complain,
If it demand that they should strive amain,
So that the prospect bright and ample be;
And yet how often labour they in vain,
Or, worse, reap sorrow for their energy!
Christian! art thou with trials deep opprest,
While seeking happiness supreme in heaven?
Know that to win a large reward the best
Of opportunities even thus is given :*
Bear unrepining-following still thy Lord,
And, for his sake, how bright shall be thy sure


* 2 Cor. iv. 17, and xii. 9.

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