Heavenly Wisdom.
How happy is the man who hears
Instruction's warning voice;
And who celestial Wisdom makes
His early, only choice.
For she has treasures greater far
Than east or west unfold,
And her reward is more secure
Than is the gain of gold.
In her right-hand she holds to view
A length of happy years;
And in her left, the prize of fame
And honour bright appears.
She guides the young, with innocence,
In pleasure's path to tread :
A crown of glory she bestows
Upon the hoary head.
According as her labours rise,
So her rewards increase:
Her ways are ways of pleasantness,
And all her paths are peace.
RISE, honest muse! and sing the Man of Ross.-
Who hung with woods yon mountain's sultry brow?
From the dry rock who bade the waters flow?
Not to the skies in useless columns tost,
Or in proud falls magnificently lost;
But clear and artless, pouring through the plain,
Health to the sick, and solace to the swain.
Whose causeway parts the vale with shady rows?
Whose seats the weary traveller repose
Who taught that heav'n-directed spire to rise?
"The Man of Ross," each lisping babe replies.
Behold the market-place with poor o'erspread!
The Man of Ross divides the weekly bread.
He feeds yon alms-house, neat, but void of state,
Where Age and Want sit smiling at the gate.
Him portion'd maids, apprentic'd orphans blest;
The young who labour, and the old who rest.
Is any sick? The Man of Ross relieves,
Prescribes, attends, the med'cine makes, and gives.
Is there a variance? Enter but his door,
Balk'd are the courts, and contest is no more.
Thrice happy man! enabled to pursue
What numbers wish, but want the pow'r to do.
WHILE Some in folly's pleasures roll,
And seek the joys that hurt the soul;
Be mine, that silent calm repast,
A peaceful conscience to the last :
That tree, which bears immortal fruit,
Without a canker at the root;
That friend, which never fails the just,
When other friends must quit their trust.
Come then, my soul, be this thy guest,
And leave to folly's sons the rest :
With this thou ever mayst be gay,
And night shall brighten into day.
With this companion in the shade,
My soul no more shall be dismay'd ;
But fearless meet the midnight gloom,
And the pale monarch of the tomb.
Though tempests drive me from the shore,
And floods descend, and billows roar ;
Though death appear in ev'ry form;
My little bark shall brave the storm.
Amid the various scene of ills,
Each stroke some kind design fulfils;
And shall I murmur at my God,
When sov'reign love directs the rod ?
Peace, rebel thoughts!-I'll not complain;
My Father's smiles suspend my pain;
Smiles, that a thousand joys impart,
And pour the balm that heals the smart.
Though Heav'n afflict, I'll not repine;
Each heart-felt comfort still is mine;
Comforts that shall o'er death prevail
And journey with me through the vale.
Blest Saviour! cheer that darksome way,
And lead me to the realms of day;
To milder skies and brighter plains,
Where everlasting sunshine reigns,
BEHOLD, where, in a mortal form,
Appears each grace divine:
The virtues, all in Jesus met,
With mildest radiance shine.
The noblest love of human kind
Inspir'd his holy breast;
In deeds of mercy, words of peace,
His kindness was express'd.
To spread the rays of heav'nly light,
To give the mourner joy,
To preach glad tidings to the poor,
Was his divine employ.
Lowly in heart, by all his friends
A friend and servant found ;
He wash'd their feet, he wip'd their tears,
And heal'd each bleeding wound.
'Midst keen reproach, and cruel scorn, Patient and meek he stood:
His foes, ungrateful, sought his life;
He labour'd for their good.
In the last hour of deep distress,
Before his Father's throne,
With soul resign'd, he bow'd, and said :
"Thy will, not mine, be done!"
Be Christ my pattern, and my guide!
His image may I bear!
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