THE PILGRIM. BY MISS L. E. L. VAIN folly of another age, On Lebanon the dark green pines Glorious the truth they testify, Oh pilgrim! vain each toilsome step, Vain every weary day; There is no charm in soil or shrine To wash thy guilt away. Return, with prayer and tear return, There's hope for one who leaves with shame Return, and in thy daily round Thou best wilt find that patient faith In every innocent prayer each child If thine has been to teach that prayer, There is a small white church that stands Beside thy father's grave, There kneel and pour those earnest prayers That sanctify and save. Around thee draw thine own home ties, In charity and penitence Thy sin will be forgiven ; Pilgrim, the heart is the true shrine Whence prayers ascend to Heaven. PROVIDENCE. BY LEIGH HUNT. JUST as a mother with sweet pious face Takes this upon her knee, that on her feet; And while from actions, looks, complaints, pretences, And whether stern or smiling loves them still ;- Makes our necessities its watchful task, HE NEVER SMILED AGAIN. BY MRS. HEMANS. "It is recorded of Henry the First, that after the death of his son, Prince William, who perished in a shipwreck off the coast of Normandy, he was never seen to smile. THE bark that held a prince went down, And what was England's glorious crown He lived-for life may long be borne Ere sorrow break its chain; Why comes not death to those who mourn? He never smiled again! There stood proud forms around his throne, The stately and the brave, But which could fill the place of one, That one beneath the wave? Before him passed the young and fair, In pleasure's reckless train, But seas dashed o'er his son's bright hair- He sat where festal bowls went round, A murmur of the restless deep Was blent with every strain, A voice of winds that would not sleep, - Hearts, in that time, closed o'er the trace And strangers took the kinsman's place Graves, which true love had bathed with tears, Were left to heaven's bright rain, Fresh hopes were born for other years He never smiled again! |