The Snow-Drop | Page 3

land;
Where'er enlightened
men are found,
They're showering blessings all around.
Yet time
would fail should I rehearse
Their brave exploits, in simple verse;

But there's a class, (I hope not here,)
Who, like the boasting oak,
appear;
They think their hands were never made
To wield the
distaff, plough, or spade;--
Their taper fingers, soft and fair,
Are
made to twine their silken hair,
Or place upon a brow of snow,

Their gold and diamond rings, to show.
Their dainty lips can sip
ice-cream,
Or open with convulsive scream,
Whene'er they meet
the farmer's cow,
The ox, or steer, which draws the plough.
Should
the mechanic's labor cease,
'Twould wound their pride--destroy their
peace;
Their flaunting garments, light and frail,
Would quickly fade,
wear out and fail.
Soon, soon, they'd come with humbled pride,
To
him whom they could once deride,
To ask a shelter from the storm,

And clothes to keep their bodies warm.
Should farmers their rich
stores withhold,
Their lily hands would soon grow cold;--

No more
their lips would curl with scorn,
At him who grows and brings them
corn;---
You'd see them kneeling at his feet,
To beg for something
more to eat;
And plead with him their lives to save,
And snatch
them from an opening grave.
Now let us, like the little brook
We've heard of in the fable,
Employ
our hearts, our heads and hands,
In doing what we're able;
Till all

Columbia praise our deeds,
And nations, o'er the waters,
Will tune
their harps and chant their song,
For Franklin's sons and daughters.
A HYMN.
COMPOSED FOR A DONATION GATHERING.
The armies of Isr'el round Mount Sinai stood,
And heard, 'midst its
thunders, the voice of their God;
All silent and awe-struck they heard
the command--
"Bring unto the Lord the first fruits of your land."
These words are as sacred, their import the same--
As when they
came pealing through Sinai's dread flame,-- The banner of Jesus should
soon be unfurled,
And waving in triumph all over the world.
Salvation's glad tidings! Oh send them abroad!
And tell the poor
pagan that there is a God!
Let those who are toiling in dark heathen
lands,
Find Christians all ready to strengthen their hands.
Yet let not your gifts and your offerings all roam;--
Remember the
servant of Jesus at home;
He's spending his strength and his life in the
cause,--
From wells of salvation pure water he draws.
The wells are our Father's, but still they're so deep,
That shepherds
are needed to water the sheep;
And shall they thus labor and toil for
our good,
And we not supply them with clothing and food?
How can we still hope that our souls are new born,
And muzzle the
oxen which tread out the corn!--
Did God care for oxen, or did he say
thus,
Designing to give some instruction to us?
St. Paul has explained it and told what to do--
"Who preaches the
gospel must live of it too;"
Some say, were we able we'd give with
delight;
But think of the widow who cast in her mite!

What though we've no money to pamper our pride,
She kept not a
penny for wants unsupplied;
Yet Jesus beheld her and sanction'd the
deed,
And promis'd in future to shield her from need.
Cast your bread on the waters; obey the command,--
The Lord will
restore it; His promise will stand;
Who give unto these, in the name
of the Lord,
A cup of cold water, shall have their reward.
THE MARRIAGE VOWS.
COMPOSED TO BE SUNG ON A WEDDING OCCASION,
AUGUST 1ST, 1847
O 'tis an interesting sight,
When youthful hands and hearts unite!

The Lord himself was pleas'd to own
That man should never dwell
alone.
A rib he took from Adam's side,
And from it made a blooming bride;

In Eden's bowers he placed the pair,--
Then joined their hands in
wedlock there.
The nuptial ties by God were bound,
While angels chanted anthems
'round;
Then mounting on swift pinions sang,
Till heaven's high
arch with music rang.
The Lord is present still to hear,--
The words you breathed have
reached his ear;
And his recording angel, now,
Is writing down the
marriage vow.
Wilt thou, the bridegroom, till the end,
Still prove the fair one's
faithful friend,
Who leaves her childhood's happy home,
With thee
through future life to roam?
She trusts her fragile bark with thee,--
O steer it well o'er life's rough
sea.
And with an undivided heart,
Wilt thou, fair maiden, act thy
part?

As pure let thine affections be,
As those white robes now worn by
thee;
O keep the sacred holy trust,
Till these fair forms turn back to
dust.
On seraph wings then may you soar,
Where friends are never parted
more;
There with the Lord may each reside,
And Jesus own you as
his bride.
LINES
WRITTEN UPON THE DEATH OF MISS ELLEN N ... OF JAY.
ADDRESSED TO HER RELATIVES.
Ye gaze upon that fair young brow,
Where death's pale shade is
resting now;--
Well, well may grief suffuse your eyes,--
Yet let no
murm'ring thought arise,
To stain with guilt affection's tear,
Which
falls upon the loved one's bier.
Tears are the antidote of grief,--

Kind nature sends them for relief.
While death a prisoner Lazarus
kept,
The Son of God stood by and wept;--
And, father,