Chapter XVI: Book II (2)

The Church agreed in what the Pastor said
And Luth suggested that young GOODWORTH might
Act as Evangelist in his father's stead,
Should he 'fore God consider it quite right.
Joseph assured them it was his delight
To aid in any way his Master's cause,
But thought that all should seek for further light
By fervent prayer, and therefore Would propose
To leave it unto Him from whom all wisdom flows.

CX.

This as determined on and they attended
Unto the "Supper of the Lord" in love.
Once more their Sacrifice of Praise ascended
From grateful hearts unto their God above,
Who heard it all and did such acts approve.
Refreshed in soul once more they separate
In friendly manner, as it does behove
The joint possessors of such blessings great
As heirs of bliss and glory in a future state.

CXI.

Throughout the week the members freely gave
Unto this subject due consideration;
And Joseph looked, to anxious friends, more grave,
Was oft in prayer or wrapped in contemplation.
The father, who of this made observation,
Encouraged him to frankly speak his mind.
This led them soon to mutual explanation
And fuller confidence, which all combined
To lead them both to be unto God's will resigned.

CXII.

It caused a struggle in that parent's breast
To part with one grown dearer every day;
And Joseph at the first felt quite distressed
At leaving friends so very far away.
As was but natural, thoughts of wedding day
Would also cross his mind and make him sigh;
But yet he felt determined to display
True Christian courage and himself deny,
If to his fellow men 'twould bring Redemption nigh.

CXIII.

The father; saw no very great occasion
For much of self-denial in the case.
The Bride-expectant would with small persuasion
Share any trials he might have to face.
Besides the Indians would prepare a place
With needful comforts, should he there remain.
'Twas therefore his advice to seek for Grace,
Such as the work demanded, and thus gain
The glorious Reward which faithful ones obtain.

CXIV.

To this the son made not the least objection,
And so the matter stood till next Lord's Day,
When, as the Church approved of the selection,
Much unfeigned love the all to him display;
Rejoicing to see one so young obey
Duty's strong impulse, and to God commend
Their much loved brother, who without delay
Made preparation that ere the week's end
He might the Indians reach and to his work attend.

CXV.

At the reformed Inebriate's house he called
In passing, and was truly glad to find
The man his vice inveterate had controlled,
And was improving daily in his mind.
He owned that had his wife not proved most kind
He might have been again to drinking drove.
This Joseph hears, but hopes the pledge he signed
Would be some safeguard if he should lack love;
Yet urged him much to seek for help from God above.

CXVI.

To miss the swamp he took another road
Not so direct, but pleasanter by far.
Most holy feelings in his bosom glowed
As he gazed on the glittering Evening Star.
The sleighing good, such traveling was no bar
To his sweet musings as he nearer drew
Unto the village where he had to war
With heathen darkness, and for aught he knew,
Where trials great and many might his steps pursue.

CXVII.

On his arrival joy sincere was felt
By those who had the Gospel's sound regarded.
These in full council passed the Wampum Belt,
And by their confidence his zeal rewarded.
None had the influence of Truth discarded
Who first professed by it to be made free,
And 'twas their wish, since nothing now retarded,
To be baptized with due solemnity,
That those who disbelieved might their obedience see.

CXVIII.

The Preacher this performed by full immersion
Of the whole body in the deep blue lake,
And none but those who evidenced conversion
Did of that holy ordinance partake.
I state not this from a desire to wake
Any contention in a Christian's breast;
I rather "strive for things which peace do make,"
That I my love for all saints may attest.
This course I long have deemed the wisest and the best.

CXIX.

Those thus baptized in fellowship then stood,
And as instructed, to Christ's laws attended.
Their souls reposed on His atoning blood
For full salvation, and their lives commended
The saving Truth to those who were offended
At the first preaching of the Joyful News.
What these beheld their outward rage suspended,
And now no longer dared they to accuse
The Preacher of vile motives and his work abuse.

CXX.

For some few weeks he labored there with pleasure,
And his Red brethren urged on him to take
The Pastor's office, but so grave a measure
Demanded time for its importance's sake.
"Should I be spared," he said, "I wish to make
My life a useful one where'er I live;
To Duty's call to keep my ear awake,
And as I have received to freely give,
Aiming to show I wish for no alternative."

CXXI.

With this resolve so very freely spoken
We bid the Red Man for the time Adieu,
For other scenes most clearly do betoken
That genial pleasure is not lost to view.
The lovers to their vows continued true,
And fixed upon the following New Year's day
As best for entering on their duties new,
When it was planned a Wedding jaunt to pay
In visit to Niagara, many miles away.

CXXII.

The day arrived--a bright and cheering one,
With which came Settlers on kind thoughts intent.
Then gratitude for what the Lord had done
They wished to show by love and substance spent
Upon their Pastor, whom they viewed as bent
On seeking their advantage since he came.
One, by a neighbor, had two turkeys sent,
Both fine young birds, well fed and very tame--
A gift which well might put some richer men to shame.

CXXIII.

This neighbor brought upon his own account
An ewe and ram of most superior breed.
Another had a very fair amount
Of splendid timothy and clover seed.
A fourth good maple sugar as his meed
Bestowed with blandest smiles and modest mien.
A fifth had apples, of which all agreed
They were the best they in that part had seen;
While a sixth brought savory sausages quite fresh and clean.

CXXIV.

These as an average sample of the gifts,
I mention merely with a view to show
That Gratitude is put to no mean shifts
In kindly hearts whose love keeps them aglow.
Those who have naught but water to bestow
Upon a thirsty Saint, reward will gain
From Heaven's high King, who loves to have it so.
We must from sneering at small gifts refrain.
For the poor widow's mite did great reward obtain.

CXXV.

Surprise and joy that Christian family felt
At this display of love and gratitude;
While with their friends they reverently knelt
To give God thanks, they for rich blessings sued
For the kind donors, now more strongly viewed
As brethren in the very strongest bond.
Each at the Mercy Seat their love renewed,
And heart to heart did fervently respond.
All merely worldly pleasure this is far beyond.

CXXVI.

This past, the marriage knot was quickly tied
For those young well matched couples, who appeared
In all respects well pleased and satisfied
This tended much to keep the parents cheered,
And to the friends around them more endeared
The wedding feast parta'en, they soon prepare
For their long journey, as a change they feared
In the fine weather, which might make roads bare
And the good sleighing spoil--a thing by no means rare.

CXXVII.

On that delightful jaunt I need not dwell,
Only to say that all the drive enjoyed.
When safe returned each had a tale to tell
Of the great Cataract's wonders, never void
Of thrilling interest to minds employed
In viewing Nature right. I now would haste
Lest my dear readers feel themselves annoyed,
To finish what has brought me no small taste
Of Poet's joy, and often has my heart solaced.

CXXVIII.

That earthly pleasure's not without alloy
Poets have sung and sages oft have said,
And none did e'er such pleasure long enjoy
Without being to the same conclusion led.
Our Pastor's dear Louisa took to bed
Soon after New Year's visit to the Falls;
Ere Spring came round she bowed her lovely head
To Death's stern summons! Yet sweet hope consoles
The friends for loss of her, and undue grief controls.

CXXIX.

Her death-bed was a scene I love to view
With chastened pleasure, for her faith was strong.
She to her Savior had for years been true.
And then to be with Him did daily long,
Yet not impatiently, for 'twould be wrong;
But with strong fortitude--so calm and pure
That one who saw her left the World's gay throng,
And since has had great trials to endure,
But found the Savior's aid was ever near and sure.

CVXX.

But little now remains for me to sing,
Not that I matter lack--a large supply
Exists _where I got this from,_ and may spring
Into poetic joy if I should try
Again to tune my harp, this time laid by
At Duty's call. Our friend and spouse live where
We found them first. William and wife are nigh,
And with their children choicest comforts share.
While Joseph of the Red Men's Church takes Pastoral care.

CXXXI.

Luth and Clarissa own a good sized farm,
Well tilled, well stocked and fronting to the Lake.
Around their hearthstone boys and girls do swarm,
So that they soon a larger house must make.
Some members of the Church now sometimes take
Their turns in preaching, and the elder Luth
Shares Pastoral duty for his Master's sake.
As Deacons they have men who love the Truth,
All proving that the Church is in a state most sooth.

CXXXII.

The Lord's _Forget-me-nots_ grow everywhere
Along the Christian's path as he pursues
His Heavenward journey. And a Father's care
Gives each sweet odors and most lovely hues.
And they throughout the darkest days diffuse
A balmy fragrance strikingly delicious!
Yet we, vain mortals, oft these sweets refuse
And choose instead that which is most pernicious,--
Thus wandering far from God, who always is propitious.

MISCELLANEOUS POEMS.

JENNY AND HER PET LAMB.

By the side of lonely moor, In a humble clay-built cot, Lived a widow very poor Who received her daily store As the Lord's Forget-me-not.

With her lived her little girl, Blithe and pretty blue eyed Jane; She wore golden locks in curl, Which showed Nature was no churl, If it did not make her vain.

Plain but neatly was she dressed, With her lot was quite content, No great cares her mind oppressed, She with cheerfulness was blessed, While in work her time was spent.

Came there by the cot one day Quite a numerous flock of sheep. Lambs did by their mothers play, One was in a sickly way, Which called up Jane's feelings deep.

He who drove them, hard of heart, Did that sickly lamb abuse; This increased young Jennie's smart, It went through her like a dart, Wondering, "would the man refuse

"To give her that pretty lamb
Which appeared so like to die?"
Came the thought to her like balm,
Her distress of mind to calm,
As she to the man drew nigh.

When to him she made request Answered he in surly tones, "She might have the little pest, For it was at very best But a heap of skin and bones!"

Joyfully she took the prize In with her to that rude cot. Pleasure filled her sparkling eyes, For the lamb had ceased its cries Ere it reached so safe a spot.

Like a foster mother she Nursed it then with gentle care, Till it grew in time to be Large as any sheep you see, Fed upon such scanty fare.

And its wool in one short year For some better pasture pays And assists the heart to cheer Of that widow, who had fear The coming Winter days.

Came there soon some troubles great On this poor, small family. He who owned the large estate Where they lived, had sunk of late Into greatest poverty.

Lost he all his wide domain, Dragged to jail because of debt. He would not of fate complain, If that widow might remain, But consent he could not get.

He who took their kind friend's place Acted a most cruel part. All might see upon his face There was not a single trace Of a kind or gentle heart.

And the widow was forbid To remain another week. Sternly he her pleadings chid, "All such tenants he would rid, And fresh quarters make them seek."

Threatened if they would not go He then all would take away. This was such a heavy blow Sickness laid the mother low; The were thus obliged to stay.

Ere the time had quite expired Down the angry landlord came With a man whom he had hired; Liquor strong their courage fired Till they felt no sense of shame.

Seize they Jenny's pretty pet, Cut its throat and leave it there; Then the household goods they get-- Heed not how the dear ones fret When their cot was made so bare.

Saw the Lord that wicked deed? Did the widow's prayer avail? See you further on may read, What the Lord had just decreed In the sequel of my tale.

Thunder clouds hung overhead, While those shocking acts were done; Forth the lightning's arrow sped, Guided there it struck them dead, Ceased to beat their hearts of stone.

All who heard the widow's case, Those who saw sweet Jenny's tears, Got for them a better place, Bade them wear a cheerful face, Trust in God and calm their fears.

Said the widow to her Jane, "Saw you how your darling died? Did it of the act complain? Jesus as a Lamb was slain, As a Lamb was crucified.

"This was in the sinner's stead, This was done for you and me; For our sins he freely bled, Bowed to Death his sacred head On the shameful cursed tree."

Heard that lovely girl these things? Yes, and did believe them too. Faith its blessings to her brings, And God's goodness oft she sings. This, dear reader, you may do.

TO A VERY TALL SUNFLOWER.

Gigantic flower with many golden faces,
Why climbest thou so very high in air?
Art loth to show the very smallest traces
Of sweet Humility with aspect fair?
Well, even 'mongst men they are by far too rare!

I oft have heard how thou in deep devotion
Dost follow Sol, the glorious king of Day.
If this be true, perhaps thou seek'st promotion
To his high courts, thy splendors to display,
And dazzle all who view thy bright array.

Poets we know are strangely given to dreaming,
And thus it came--they all thought this of thee.
'Tis true, sometimes thy yellow flowers do seem in
Just such a mood, and this they chanced to see;
But those who watch thee closely will agree

That yet these flowers at times face all the quarters,
East, West, and North as well as sunny South,
And I have seen them like most patient martyrs
Hang thus for days in time of Summer's drouth,
Although such weather did not stop their growth.

Thou tallest of the tall amongst thy fellows
Look'st like a king. So full of majesty
Art thou, that this alone the truth may tell us
Why we no humble mien in thee can see.
Thou only bow'st to God who fashioned thee.

If this be so thou art a lesson teaching
To all who view thy many golden charms;
And all this time a sermon hast been preaching
To me, and now my heart toward thee warms;
Till I would gladly save thee from Frost's harms.

This may not be; already thou art drooping:
A few more days will strip thy splendors off,
And when Frost comes to find thy tall form stooping
He at thy nakedness perhaps may scoff,
But heed not, 'twas not his thy charms to doff.

Sunflower, I leave thee now, and this truth ponder,
Thou hast fulfilled the task allotted thee.
Have _I_ discharged the obligations under
Which I lay to God? the world? Ah me!
A host of imperfections I can see.

Then let me now, before I cease my rhyming
Take thy strong lesson very much to heart,
That while I am up Life's rough ladder climbing
I still may seek to act a proper part,
And strive to fearless meet Death with his dart.

BIRTHDAY THOUGHTS AND ASPIRATIONS.

WRITTEN ON MY THIRTY-SEVENTH BIRTHDAY, MARCH 20, 1854.

What solemn thoughts crowd o'er my mind As this eventful day moves on. I feel most forcibly inclined To strive some proper words to find, In praise of God for what he's done.

And why? For seven and thirty years: He who at first my being gave Has still upheld me, calmed my fears, While passing through this Vale of Tears, And on my journey to the grave.

'Tis then but right that I should take A retrospect of my past days. This done in faithfulness will make My humble lyre aloud to wake Its every string in God's pure praise.

Then let my memory recall Each striking scene through which I've passed. What strong emotion fills my soul, As they in quick succession roll Before my wondering gaze at last!

I feel my childhood's joys once more, Again I pass its sorrows through. Of richest mercies what a store, In health or else in sickness sore, As if by magic spring to view.

With all my sins upon my head I see two near escapes from death; Then is a feast before me spread, And I on heavenly food am fed, The precious gift of God through faith.

Lo, there I see Him guard me round, Lest strong temptations me o'ercome; Here I am in his favor found, While others in perdition drowned Were long since hurried to the tomb!

O, what a miracle is this, That I am saved from hell and sin! Predestined by pure Grace to Bliss, My soul in transport bows submiss To God, and hopes a crown to win.

Then may I mourn my past neglect Of all thy goodness, O, my God! Henceforward may I more respect Thy just commands and still detect Those lurking sins that bring thy rod.

Should I be spared another year, May one great thought my bosom fill; To let it to mankind appear That I am but a pilgrim here, Just left awhile to do Thy will.

But Lord, thou know'st I am but weak; Impart fresh strength that I may be More and more anxious still to seek The good of souls with spirit meek, And thus prove my sincerity.

And here I would once more record The fervent breathings of my soul, That thou would'st richest Grace afford To all my children through the Word, And still our every act control.

SONG TO THE LILY OF THE VALLEY.

Lily of the valley, this brief poetic sally
At the very least is due unto thee.
Thy fragrant wax-like flowers all freshened by Spring showers
Seem purity embodied unto me.
_Lily of the valley blooming near the alley_
_Of the little garden close to my home!_

Lily of the valley, I fain would gladly rally
All the powers of sweet Fancy to my aid
To describe thy form retiring, which I cannot help admiring
As it peeps from its broad, leafy shade.
_Lily of the valley_, etc.

Lily of the valley, thou very well dost tally
With my notion of a modest, gentle maid.
Thy delicate bell-cluster may lack in grandeur's lustre,
Yet thou in true beauty art arrayed.
_Lily of the valley_, etc.

Lily of the valley, Sol scarce with thee dare dally;
He plants no rose-blushes on thy cheek,
Yet indebted to his power art thou from hour to hour,
And his beams play with thee _hide and seek_.
_Lily of the valley_, etc.

Lily of the valley, deem not my rhyming folly,
For I love both thy form and thy scent;
And this is chiefly true as thou kissest in the dew,
While thy head in pure modesty is bent.
_Lily of the valley_, etc.

Lily of the valley, bloom near my garden alley,
And shed forth thy fragrancy around;
I'll think as thou art growing of the lessons thou art showing
To me when in musing I am found.
_Lily of the valley blooming near the alley
Of the little garden close to my home._

DAISY, I HAVE SOUGHT FOR THEE.

Daisy, I have sought for thee In the garden, on the lea, Ever since I learned to roam From my much loved English home.

Once I owned a little thing Called a daisy here about, And it bloomed awhile in Spring, But the Winter froze it out.

'Twas a pigmy flower at best, Though in red robe it was dressed. English daisy's lively mien Never in its face was seen.

When it died I did not fret, Nor a dirge sung o'er its bier. Some few plants that I have met Claimed at least from me a tear.

Now what is it that I see? Daisies growing on a tree! White and double--white as snow, Hundreds of them in full blow.

Let me look awhile at them, Even through sweet fancy's eyes. Every flower's a perfect gem. And as such I will it prize.

But let Fancy stand aside, Common folks might me deride. Thinking something ailed my brain, Should I such a thing maintain.

Well, 'tis all as one to me, Fancy still shall have the sway. That _Daisies here grow on a tree_ _I_ mean to insist alway!

[Footnote: The blossoms of the double flowering cherry tree. They bear a great resemblance to the white double daisy of English gardens, and in fact were pronounced to be the same by a lady friend of mine. I took the hint and wrote the above.]

THE CHARMS OF JUNE.

INSCRIBED TO MY WIFE.

The lilacs are now in the full flush of beauty,
The fruit trees have blossomed, the tulips are gay,
And birds' gushing melody points out our duty
To God who doth bless us so vastly each day.

Brilliant verbenas in rich robes are glowing,
And spireas their fair silver glories maintain,
While violets and lilies their charms are bestowing
To add to the splendors of sweet Flora's reign.

O, soon will the odors of bright blushing roses
Unite with the woodbines in fragrance complete;
For hoards of their incense this fine month discloses,
To all who are fond of a garden retreat.

Viburnum Opulus its snowballs is forming,
The peonies are ready to burst into bloom,
Rude Boreas has ceased for awhile his dread storming,
And Nature at last has got rid of her gloom.
[Footnote: Guelder Rose.]

In flower-bedecked fields or vast woods at this season
I would 'twere my privilege to frequently roam;
But fear such indulgence might well be termed treason
Against the sweet duties and pleasures of Home.

Then since this solacement by God is denied me,
I'll joy that in fancy it still is my lot
To rove with my own lovely Ellen beside me,
Through scenes that can never by us be forgot.

TO DR. LAYCOCK, ON HIS LEAVING BRANTFORD ON ACCOUNT Of ILLNESS.

NOVEMBER, 1854.

Doctor, you must not hence depart
Ere I address a parting lay
Fresh gushing from an honest heart,
Which grieves because you cannot stay.

To Rhyme I make but small pretence,
Yet what I write is what I feel;
And should it prove but common-sense,
Many defects this will conceal.

I have oft wished since you came here,
That we might years together spend;
And now I hang 'twixt hope and fear,
In strange uncertainty, my friend.

Right glad, dear Doctor, would I be
If you left here in perfect health;
I know 'tis prized by you and me
As far before the greatest wealth.

And well it may! For that is wealth
In most men's hands but splendid dross
To purchase _friends_ who leave by _stealth_
Their friend, when he has found its loss.

Yet 'tis I own, when rightly used,
A goodly thing for you and me,
Who can't of hoarding be accused
At least from all that I can see.

Then take what I most freely give--
A wish sincere that you may yet
Return in health near us to live,
An honest livelihood to get.

And may your partner live to share
With you for years fresh joy and peace.
For this I urge an earnest prayer
To God who makes my joys increase.

TO MR. COWHERD, FROM HIS FRIEND, H. S. LAYCOCK.

[Perhaps my readers will have the goodness to pardon me if I here present them with an exact copy of a Rhyming Letter which I received in answer to the poem above from my much respected and greatly lamented friend, the late Dr. Laycock, of Woodstock, Ont. I place it here because of the compliment he was kind enough to pay me on my rhyming abilities, and chiefly in relation to those Pieces to my Children. I candidly acknowledge that it was his opinion, so freely and perhaps flatteringly expressed, which weighed with me greatly as an inducement for giving so many of them in these pages.]

Dear friend, though a poor hand at rhymes, I'll try In _kind_ to your _kind_ verses to reply. Together we have passed some happy hours, Pleasantly loitering in the Muses' bower; Not with the Bards who sing of Wine and Love, But those who can the nobler Passions move To finer sympathies, and by their art Instruct, amend as well as cheer the heart! Such Bard our COWPER. Oft his pleasing strains Have won us to forget the cares and pains The world lays on us all; WORDSWORTH the same; And other bards besides _less known to fame;_ _Thyself,_ dear friend, amongst the rest. Thy rhymes Flow from a heart in tune with Nature's chimes, And breathings of Sweet Home, Domestic joys, The opening graces of thy girls and boys, And themes like these _to Nature dear_ please all Whose souls like ours respond to Nature's call. Nature, to whom proud Art can _lend a grace,_ But whom if absent _Art can not replace!_

Take these poor lines in haste and sickness penned, As tribute from a warm and grateful friend, Who, though thy kindness he can not repay, Will ne'er forget thee, Cowherd, nor thy lay.

BRANTFORD, Nov. 16, 1854

TO MR. JAMES C----T

NOVEMBER, 1853.

"A friend in need's a friend indeed."

My friend much respected, 'tis hardly the thing That I on some subjects so often should sing, And yet never manage a rhyme to bestow On one whose great kindness I'd gratefully show.

It oft has been spoken, as oft has been penned That "It cannot be ever too late to amend." And as I'm unconscious of lacking respect, Will do what I can to repair my neglect.

O, can I look back to the time of my need, When thou, under God, prov'dst a kind friend indeed, And feel no emotion my bosom to swell? 'Twere baseness of conduct too shocking to tell.

Time was when chill penury stared in my face, And I was made feel it almost a disgrace. As a fruit of thy kindness that time has gone by, So I to be thankful would constantly try.

O, well I remember how often I thought My business endeavors would all come to naught; That I, 'midst my toiling should surely stick fast, And most sad disappointment meet me at last.

The Lord sent thee to me at such time of trial, When exercised well with the grace Self-denial. Thy kind way of speaking took from me my sadness, And left in its place a rich increase of gladness.

And oft since that time though a much chequered life Amidst this world's bustle, its turmoil and strife My mind has been solaced with thoughts of thy love, Which does thy relation to Christ clearly prove.

Under the weakness of age thou art bending, Yet no doubt have I that the Lord is still sending The joy of His presence thy spirit to cheer, By doing thy duty while thou stayest here.

And Oh, may it please our kind Father and God Thy steps to support with his "Staff and his Rod;" Then cause his bright Angels thy way to attend, And thus bring thee safely to Life-journey's end.

May thy good example to those that remain, Be useful in showing Religion is gain, That they may still follow the path that Christ trod, And join thee in singing the praises of God.

TO THE CHRISTIANS OF BRANTFORD.

OCTOBER, 1853.

Christians of Brantford, list awhile, An humble Rhymer speaks to you. Perhaps the fact may cause a smile, Though I speak not from motives vile, But with your interest full in view.

You are engaged in warfare great With that great sin which oft has made A loving husband full of hate, A young wife's beauty quickly fade, And early death become her fate.

You have to grapple with that fiend That oft has made poor children weep, Bereft them too of every friend, Who would unto their wants attend-- When they were sick afford relief.

You are engaged in mortal strife With that huge serpent which ere now Has poisoned all the joys of life, Made many homes with discord rife, And sunk poor human nature low.

With him that oft has torn away The laurel from the Sons of Fame, Caused them from Wisdom's paths to stray, Has turned to darkness their bright day, And covered them all o'er with shame.

Young as some are, all must have seen His potent arm stretched forth to strike As victims those who long had been Striving on human aid to lean. Mind friends you never do the like!

Oh, have you thought upon his power, And learned how weak are mortal men When brought into temptation's hour, And "storms arise and tempests lower?" The _strong_ may even falter then.

And feeling weak have you been led To put your trust in God alone, Who with his bounteous hand hath fed You all your lives, and in the stead Of guilty man did sin atone?

If you have not done this before O flee, my dear young friends, away To Jesus Christ, the friend who bore Our sins, that he might us restore To God and Bliss and Endless Day.

TO THE SAME.

NOVEMBER, 1854.

Christians, arouse you! Quick, up and be doing!
The monster Intemperance stalks through our land!
Unfurl wide your banners, and good still pursuing,
On "No Truce with Tyrants!" let each take his stand.
Lend, lend a hand! Lend, lend a hand!
The might of this evil but few can withstand!

Shrieks and groans from the dying are heard all around you,
And heartrending sights every day are displayed;
While blasphemous curses may well nigh astound you,
And dangers fast thicken; yet be not dismayed.
Lend, lend a hand! Lend, lend a hand!
If these things appal you your help they demand.

Thousands of widows and orphans call on you
Who lost their support from this tyrant's attacks,
And he with his legions may soon fall upon you,
If you now shrink from duty or show him your backs.
Lend, lend a hand! Lend, lend a hand!
Your own peace and safety your efforts demand.

Our Jails and Asylums are full to o'erflowing
With victimized wretches struck by this fiend's hand,
And many poor youths unsuspicious are going
To destruction, led on by his magical wand.
Lend, lend a hand! Lend, lend a hand!
The doom which hangs o'er them gives forth the command.

Then muster your forces and stand forth unyielding,
In the name of Humanity heed not his rage.
Mind not his blandishments--evil still gilding--
But ever determine to war with him wage.
Lend, lend a hand! Lend, lend a hand!
In this monster's overthrow firmly now stand.

Christians, arouse you! Quick, up and be doing!
For help look to God's own Omnipotent Arm!
Let no Tempter charm with the soft voice of wooing,
Or frighten your hearts by the sounds of alarm.
Lend, lend a hand! Lend, lend a hand!
'Midst trials and dangers like true heroes stand.

VERSES WRITTEN IMMEDIATELY AFTER READING HORACE SMITH'S "BACHELOR'S FARE."

1854.

He who wrote these lively verses Hath his talents misemployed, While he marriage ills rehearses-- The conjugal life asperses Which so many have enjoyed.

And each brown or blue eyed charmer, Let her rank be high or low, Must have felt such verses harm her-- Must have felt her cheek grow warmer With just indignation's glow.

Were he then as bachelor living
He might speak of bachelor life.
But such men need not be giving
Crabbed views of man and wife.

If he were to fair one married
Greater still would be the shame;
It would prove love had miscarried,
He alone perhaps to blame.

Were it shown that he was jesting, Jests like this with ills are rife; Poets should be still attesting This plain truth--Mankind are blest in Chaste and sweet Conjugal Life.

Marriage is of God's ordaining, Serving purpose wise and good. Those who are from it abstaining, Should be found always refraining From treating it in jesting mood.

From experience I am speaking, In protesting I prefer A wedded life. If you are seeking To have pockets with no leak in, From it let naught you deter.

But this thing make up your mind in, Choice should fall on one of worth. Love of wealth some men are blind in; For a wife may be worth finding, Though she be of humble birth.

If you are a true wife blest in,
Mind you well fulfill your part,
That you may, all cares distressed in,
Prove the warmth of woman's heart.

I have proved it in rich measure,
And with honest brow declare,
Married life for sweetest pleasure
Can with any life compare!

STANZAS ON THE PEACEFUL STRUGGLE IN EUROPE.

APRIL, 1854.

England's real strength is in the Lord of Hosts

Slumbereth now the British Lion,
In his sweet green Island lair?
No! He rushes forth to die on
Europe's plains, or crush the Bear.

Now he may well hope for glory,
Warring in defense of Right.
Will he soon be faint and gory
From the Czar's most lawless fight?

Oh, forbid it, God of Battles--
In whom we would place our trust!
Ere is heard his cannon's rattles
Quench the Bear's most savage lust!

Turn him back to his own regions,
Though a wild and bitter clime;
Wide disperse his barbarous legions
In Thy own good _way_ and _time_.

If in Wisdom thou ordainest
This dread war shall still proceed--
Let us feel thou ever reignest
Through the saddest hours of need;

That thou still as Sovereign rulest
O'er the Nations of this world;
That thou yet mad Despots schoolest,
Ere they to the dust are hurled.

O preserve our generous Lion,
And his partners in the War;
Bid their hosts thy arm rely on;
Guard each soldier, shield each tar.

Let we see them soon returning
To their now deserted domes;
Let pure joy instead of mourning
Fill their fondly cherished homes.

May we profit by the lesson
Which events like this should teach--
Seek to put away transgression,
Act as healers of each breach.

Then we long may share God's favor--
From the Queen upon her throne
To the lowly son of labor
Toiling his poor crust to own.

LINES WRITTEN ON THE MORNING OF THE DREADFUL FIRE WHICH CONSUMED THE B. B. & G. R. R. DEPOT BUILDINGS.

Oh! there has come on us a dreadful calamity,
Our fine Depot Buildings in ruin lie low.
And works which for months were in earnest activity,
To Fire's fearful ravage have been made to bow.

If the watchmen were both in the right path of duty,
How came it we every one heard with amaze,
That they saw not the fire till it fiercely was bursting
Right through the gable in one perfect blaze.

I would not indulge in ungrounded suspicion,
But truly the matter looks dark to my mind.
And I trust before long a most strict inquisition
Will be instituted, the faulty to find.

But should this be done would it rear up the buildings
That now form a rubbish heap blackened and hot?
Ah, no! and the Muse peering into the Future
Fears never such structures shall rise on that spot!

Then mourn, Brantford, mourn! for thy sad, sad misfortune
May well make thy sons to remember this day;
And all may well sigh and feel strongest emotion,
For troubles now thicken in blackest array.

And oh, it would tend to thy weal in the future,
If thou such events as a warning would take
To cleanse from thy dwellings Sin's dreadful pollution,
Lest God's greater judgments against thee awake.

TO THE REV. J. W AND HIS BRIDE

A MARRIAGE DAY

October 4, 1853

An humble poet--save the mark!
Wishes to give to you a lay
In honor of your wedding day,
But somehow labors in the dark,
And fears from etiquette to stray.

And why? No invitation came
To bid me tune my simple lyre--
To fan my low poetic fire,
Nor yet a hope of deathless fame
Which might for risk, serve me for hire.

I'll run the risk and fearless strike
A lyre too apt to slumber long,
And pour my thoughts in artless song.
Many there are who do the like,
And yet in this may do no wrong.

Now, I would hope sweet blessings may Flow to you from our Father kind: The rich gift of a happy mind, In Wisdom's paths content to stay, And purest peace in that to find.

I trust you will be filled with love,
Such love as God alone can give;
That you may still before Him live.
Placing your hopes always above,
May you his Spirit never grieve.

O, may you still, as man and wife,
Mutual confidence possess;
For this will free from much distress
Your family in after life,
And make your care and sorrow less.

May both such lovely patterns be Of what your character requires, That if brought through Affliction's fires Mankind your purity may see; And which to see God most desires.

And may you ever useful prove
In making known Christ's saving Name;
Your minds not swayed by worldly fame--
In urging souls to taste that Love
Which cheers our hearts through scorn and shame.

And should you by His Grace become
A numerous, holy, happy band,
Still he'll uphold you by His Hand,
Till all at last come safely home
Unto that glorious Spirit Land.

STANZAS ON HEARING AN AUCTIONEER QUOTE THE FOLLOWING PASSAGE OF SCRIPTURE: "THERE WAS SILENCE IN HEAVEN ABOUT THE SPACE OF HALF AN HOUR."--

REV. VIII, I.

Yes, vain Scoffer! so the Scriptures tell us,
But awful was the silence at that time;
A prelude of the wrath of God most jealous,
Expressed in dreadful thunderbolts sublime.

Oh! hast thou ever marked the scene that follows,
When the first Angel did his trumpet take
And blow a blast heard through all Earth's vast hollows,
Which did the mountains to their bases shake?

Or realize "the hail and fire commingling
With blood, and all cast down upon the Earth?"
To mention this should set thine ears a-tingling,
And check at times thy loud uproarious mirth.

But read thou on with most profound attention:
Dire woes stand forth in gloomy vividness!
Ah! would'st thou shrink from some vague apprehension
That the perusal might cause thee distress?

Know thou, what follows is but the beginning
Of plagues more fearful than we can conceive.
This thou must see, and yet thou keep'st on sinning,
As if such madness Conscience could relieve.

Stop, then, at once, lest in Eternal ruin
Thy soul engulfed shall see her folly great.
Flee now to Christ; become a suppliant suing
For pardon from Him ere it be too late.

WINTER'S RAVAGES, AN APPEAL TO THE RICH ON BEHALF OF THE POOR.

NOVEMBER, 1857.

Stern Winter on foul mischief bent
Left his cold region of the North;
As his Advance-guard early sent
Loud howling blasts and snow storms forth.

These warriors hastened to obey
The mandate of their frost-robed King,
And as they came the Orb of Day
Withdrew his rays which gladness bring.

They, gathering strength as nigh the drew
Unto our homes, spread ruin round,
And thus transformed each beauteous view,
And in white mantle clad the ground.

Before their track lay pastures green,
While root crops in abundance told
How fruitful had the Summer been
Ere she away from us had rolled.

Behind them was a widespread waste
Of leafless trees and drifting snows,
And still with most malicious haste
They dealt around their chilling blows.

Anon their King in ice-car rode
With furious speed, and placed his seal
Upon the devastation broad,--
Exulting in his savage zeal.

This done, fair Nature at his feet
Lay prostrate in the arms of death!
And now the poor lack food and heat,
Benumbed by his dread icy breath.

For in our great Commercial World
Loud storms have rung their changes round,
While some are from high station hurled
And in chill Penury are found.

Our Workshops, erst with men well filled,
The scenes of Trade's most busy strife,
Are almost silent now, and skilled
Mechanics want the means of life.

And shall it e'er be said of those
Who have of means a full supply,
That avarice has their heart's blood froze,--
That they can see their brethren die?

Forbid it, O Thou gracious One,
From whom we every good obtain;
O, melt the hardest heart of stone,
And quell its cruel thirst for gain!

That those who have may freely give
Of food and clothes a plenteous store
To help the needy now to live:
"Those tend to God who help the poor."

A CANADIAN NATIONAL SONG.

Tune, "Auld Lang Syne."

O, no; I'm not an Englishman,
Though it is something great
To have for birthplace English soil,
And live in such a State;
Yet I'm not _now_ an Englishman,
For why? I crossed the sea
And live in dear Canadian clime,
The Land of Liberty

I am not _now_ a leal Scotchman,
Though born 'midst Scotia's hills,
And recollections of her scenes
My bosom ever thrills,
For I have sailed o'er ocean vast,
And to this land have come,
Where Freedom waves her banner o'er
My new, adopted home.

O, no, I'm not an Irishman,
Though sprung from Erin's bowers,
And Memory often takes me back
To those most happy hours
When, roaming o'er her fair green Isle,
With warmth I pressed her sod,
And felt my own, my native Land,
The best that foot e'er trod.

[Footnote: The writer's main object in writing this song was to do what he could toward breaking down all remains of clannish feeling in this highly important country. Should a company, consisting of one or more persons from each of the countries mentioned, desire to sing it, each one might take the part applicable to him, and when the several sections have been gone through all join as full chorus in the last stanza, or slight verbal alterations may be so made that any single individual may sing it.]

For I have come to Canada
To settle on her land,
And to all her inhabitants
Give Friendship's honored hand.

I am no longer German now
Though "Fatherland" I loved,
And vowed remembrance to take
Of her, where'er I roved.
For here on this prolific soil
I own a splendid farm,
And lovely children growing up
Call forth my feelings warm.

I would not be a Frenchman deemed,
Though sprung of Gaulish race,
And their pure blood I freely can
In my forefathers trace.
For I would feel as much at home
As ever man can be
Back in our woods or in our towns,
Whilst I have liberty.

O, yes; we are Canadians now,
Wherever we were born;
And we will strive in time to come
To heal a land so torn
By party strife, by clannish fire,
And aim to live in peace.
Then put united efforts forth,
Till life itself shall cease,
To make her what she ought to be--
Acknowledged on each hand
A noble, free, and powerful State,
A great and glorious Land!

A CALL TO THE SOIREE* OF THE MECHANIC'S INSTITUTE, DECEMBER 23, 1857.

"Endeavor always to combine real good with pleasurable enjoyment."

Come, friends, to the Soiree; O why will you tarry
When good things are waiting you there?
For, after the eating, our friends, for this, meeting
Have speeches prepared with due care.

Let all upper classes give ladies cash passes,
'Twill cost but a very small price;
And what they may spend in a way that will end in
Real good, is a blow unto vice.

Come, merchants and doctors; come lawyers and proctors,
And treat all your clerks to the feast.
Fear not that your kindness will make them more mindless
Of what is your interest, the least.

Come, all ye mechanics, for no dreadful panics
Will meet you with grim spectre-faces.
Bring also your spouses, nor leave in your houses
Those charmers who wear childhood's graces.

Come, each son of labor, and do us the favor
Of tasting the good things provided.
A truce to your moiling! for hard daily toiling
Gives Rank that must ne'er be derided.

Haste all to the Soiree; none need to be sorry
For giving our Institute aid.
The good you may do us'll diffuse itself through us
To the townsfolks of every grade.

* Pronounced as nearly as possible, _swarry_.

AN ADDRESS BY THE MEMBERS OF THE "INSTITUTE" TO THEIR FRIENDS AT THE SOIREE.

Dear friends, to this our social feast,
We bid you welcome gladly,
And trust you will not in the least
Spend moments with us sadly.

For though we've no great Bardling's strain
Joined to rich organ's pealing,
Yet none the less may Pleasure's train
Be softly near us stealing.

And should she deign to show her face,
To smile on us benignly,
Let's give to her a chaste embrace,
By no means most supinely.

What though we lack exciting cause
For loud, uproarious laughter?
Our temperate fare will not dispose
To heart-upbraidings after.

Yet we may well of mirth-enjoy
A reasonable measure;
And even skill and time employ
To gain so bright a treasure.

Avoiding still too great extremes,
Enjoy in moderation
The blessings which our Father deems
Best for us in each station.

Then we need have no vain regrets,
No consciences unruly,--
For sense of doing right begets
A sense of peace most truly.

ALCOHOL'S ARRAIGNMENT AND DOOM.

Alcohol! Alcohol! who are thy victims?
Come, answer me quickly; stand forth to the bar!
That frown most defiant
Will not make me pliant,
I've pledged myself firmly to wage with thee war.
For years thy dread shock
I have borne like a rock,
Still leaning for help on God's mighty aim.

Say, Alcohol, truly, who are thy victims?
"Of the rich and the poor, the good and the fair,
Mankind of each standing,
Know well I've a hand in
The havoc and ruin they see everywhere!
Daily with fury
From Still and from Brewery
I'm dealing out death without much alarm.

"Princes and Statesmen I count 'mongst my victims,
With painters and poets, philosophers sage,
Rich merchants, skilled doctors,
Cute lawyers, keen proctors,
Mechanics and laborers of each sex and age
Are found in my ranks,
And lured on by my pranks,
While I care not a pin what comes to them."

Then, Alcohol, tell me what do thy victims
In such vile standing while here in this world?
"They're spending their money
Not for milk and honey,
But for what will cause them to be quickly hurled
To that dreadful place
Where there is not a trace
Of richest mercy they here do contemn."

Alcohol, tell me what more are thy victims
As fruits of their orgies accomplishing here?
Asylums they're filling,
While jails by their swilling
Are constantly crowded, or far off or near;
And orphans are made
By this great liquor trade,
In thousands as all may very soon see!

Alcohol, listen the doom which awaits thee:
More than half of thy doings thou'st kept out of sight.
Every good man and true
Deems it is but thy due
That thou should'st be banished to Regions of Night.
And heart-broken mates,
With all orphans' sad fates,
Compel us to give forth this doom on thee.

TO MY BELOVED FRIEND MR. JAMES WOODYATT.

A CHRISTMAS LAY.

Woodyatt, this Christmas I devote
Some portion of my time to tell
In humble verse what God hath wrought
For us who're snatched as brands from hell.

The best of all my coaxing powers
To lure the Muse I'll freely spend,
Nor heed a whit the fleeting hours
Until my pleasing task shall end.

For I have found a friend in thee,
Such as I strove in vain to find
For twenty years; and this may be
A wonder to thy generous mind.

But so it is; and I would prize
The gift my God has kindly sent,
Nor quell the feelings which arise
Within my breast, till life be spent.

So, while my unlearned lyre I take,
Most gracious Muse, thy aid impart!
Thou canst not at such time forsake
Thy humble friend in this his Art.

No paltry theme shall form my lay
To such a friend at such a time.
Then let my thoughts in rich array
Come forth in gently flowing rhyme.

Nor wealth nor earthly pleasures make
The sum and substance of my song;
Such themes let grovelling rhymsters take,
Who write to please a worldly throng.

For him and me a better way
Remains, and I will freely sing
Of pleasures with most lustrous ray,--
Of those which from religion spring.

And well indeed may'st thou, dear friend,
Rejoice with me that God hath brought
Such sinful creatures to attend
Unto His voice who pardon brought.

I more than twice ten years have been
Within the Way to Endless Life.
Thou in the last few months hast seen
That Way with richest blessings rife.

And now, when seated round our fires,
Or when we take our walks abroad,
We seem as one in strong desires
To speak the praises of our God.

Big thoughts our kindred bosoms swell,
Deep gratitude our ardor fires,
Until we long for words to tell
The fervency that Love acquires;

And ponder as so well we may
Upon our present happy state
Compared with that in which we lay--
Objects of wrath at hell's dread gate.

We ask each other, Why is this?
Why are we favored thus of God?
Why are we made joint heirs of Bliss,
Destined to dwell in His abode?

Quickly the answer comes to hand:
Simply because of God's pure Grace.
And does not Love like God's demand
That we all seasons should embrace--

To speak to others of Christ's worth,
That they with us may fully share
The glories of our heavenly birth,
The riches He can freely spare?

Then let us, brother, with our might,
Work for Him while 'tis called To-day;
Looking above for strength, for light,
Press forward in this thrice-blest way.

Let us dig deep into that mine
Of hidden wealth stored in the Word,
And with strong faith all else resign
Just clinging solely to the Lord.

O, should our lives for years be spared,
May not one word or thought or deed
Unworthy God, be by us shared,
Who are from Satan's bondage freed.

1856.

TRIBUTARY VERSES, WRITTEN IMMEDIATELY ON HEARING OF DR. O'CARR'S DEATH.

APRIL 18, 1854.

Sorrow stealeth o'er my spirit, For I hear O'Carr is dead. Once I tried to sing his merit, After health began to fade. Then I thought his end was nigh, That he very soon would die,

When I saw that he was leaving His sweet home for distant Isle, Oft the thought my soul was grieving "He might linger for a while And then leave his wife and babe, Far away o'er Ocean's wave."

Yet I know our loving Father Often hears his children's prayers; That he would at all times rather Ease them of their ills and cares, Than lay on a single stroke, If not needful 'neath his yoke.

And I thought he then would listen To our supplications strong; That each countenance might glisten With sweet joy ere very long: Joy from seeing him come back, Having of good health no lack.

When I heard of his returning, And how he was sinking fast, Soon my soul was strongly yearning To be with him ere he passed From these earthly scenes away To enjoy Eternal Day.

This, my wish, kept growing stronger, As each day flew o'er my head, Till I felt I could no longer Brook delay, when lo! he's dead. Now I prize this pleasing thought, He to Bliss is safely brought.

While hot tears bedim the vision Of dear friends who mourn his death, May they manifest decision By the wondrous power of Faith, In belief that those who sleep Safe in Jesus shall not weep.