Of rustic loneliness: that grey-haired Orphan― So call him, for humanity to him

No

parent was feelingly could have told, In life, in death, what solitude can breed Of selfishness, and cruelty, and vice; Or, if it breed not, hath not power to cure. -But your compliance, Sir! with our request My words too long have hindered."

Undeterred, Perhaps incited rather, by these shocks, In no ungracious opposition, given To the confiding spirit of his own Experienced faith, the reverend Pastor said, Around him looking; "Where shall I begin? Who shall be first selected from my flock Gathered together in their peaceful fold?" He paused-and having lifted up his eyes To the pure heaven, he cast them down again Upon the earth beneath his feet; and spake

"To a mysteriously-united pair

This place is consecrate; to Death and Life,
And to the best affections that proceed
From their conjunction; consecrate to faith
In him who bled for man upon the cross;
Hallowed to revelation; and no less
To reason's mandates; and the hopes divine
Of pure imagination;-above all,

To charity, and love, that have provided,
Within these precincts, a capacious bed
And receptacle, open to the good
And evil, to the just, and the unjust;
In which they find an equal resting-place:

Even as the multitude of kindred brooks

And streams, whose murmur fills this hollow vale,
Whether their course be turbulent or smooth,
Their waters clear or sullied, all are lost
Within the bosom of yon crystal Lake,
And end their journey in the same repose!

And blest are they who sleep; and we that know,
While in a spot like this we breathe and walk,
That all beneath us by the wings are covered
Of motherly humanity, outspread

And gathering all within their tender shade,
Though loth and slow to come! A battle-field,
In stillness left when slaughter is no more,
With this compared, makes a strange spectacle!
A dismal prospect yields the wild shore strewn
With wrecks, and trod by feet of young and old
Wandering about in miserable search

Of friends or kindred, whom the angry sea
Restores not to their prayer! Ah! who would think
That all the scattered subjects which compose
Earth's melancholy vision through the space

Of all her climes-these wretched, these depraved
To virtue lost, insensible of peace,

From the delights of charity cut off,

To pity dead, the oppressor and the opprest;
Tyrants who utter the destroying word,

And slaves who will consent to be destroyed-
Were of one species with the sheltered few,
Who, with a dutiful and tender hand,
Lodged, in a dear, appropriated spot,

This file of infants; some that never breathed
The vital air; others, which, though allowed

That privilege, did yet expire too soon,
Or with too brief a warning, to admit
Adminstration of the holy rite

That lovingly consigns the babe to the arms
Of Jesus, and his everlasting care.
These that in trembling hope are laid apart;
And the besprinkled nursling, unrequired
Till he begins to smile upon the breast
That feeds him; and the tottering little-one
Taken from air and sunshine when the rose
Of infancy first blooms upon his cheek;

The thinking, thoughtless, school-boy; the bold youth
Of soul impetuous, and the bashful maid
Smitten while all the promises of life

few

Are opening round her; those of middle age,
Cast down while confident in strength they stand,
Like pillars fixed more firmly, as might seem,
And more secure, by very weight of all
That, for support, rests on them; the decayed
And burthensome; and lastly, that poor
Whose light of reason is with age extinct;
The hopeful and the hopeless, first and last,
The earliest summoned and the longest spared-
Are here deposited, with tribute paid
Various, but unto each some tribute paid;
As if, amid these peaceful hills and groves,

Society were touched with kind concern,

And gentle Nature grieved, that one should die ;"

Or, if the change demanded no regret,

Observed the liberating stroke-and blessed.

And whence that tribute? wherefore these regards?

Not from the naked Heart alone of Man
(Though claiming high distinction upon earth
As the sole spring and fountain-head of tears,
His own peculiar utterance for distress
Or gladness)-No," the philosophic Priest
Continued, "'t is not in the vital seat
Of feeling to produce them, without aid.
From the pure soul, the soul sublime and
With her two faculties of eye and ear
The one by which a creature, whom his sins
Have rendered prone, can upward look to heaven;
The other that empowers him to perceive
The voice of Deity, on height and plain,

pure;

Whispering those truths in stillness, which the WORD, To the four quarters of the winds, proclaims.

Not without such assistance could the use

Of these benign observances prevail :

Thus are they born, thus fostered, thus maintained,
And by the care prospective of our wise
Forefathers, who, to guard against the shocks
The fluctuation and the decay of things,
Embodied and established these high truths
In solemn institutions :-men convinced
That life is love and immortality,

The being one, and one the element,
There lies the channel, and original bed,
From the beginning, hollowed out and scooped
For Man's affections-else betrayed and lost,
And swallowed up 'mid deserts infinite!
This is the genuine course, the aim, and end
Of prescient reason; all conclusions else
Are abject, vain, presumptuous, and perverse.

The faith partaking of those holy times,
Life, I repeat, is energy of love
Divine or human; exercised in pain,
In strife, and tribulation; and ordained,
If so approved and sanctified, to pass,
Through shades and silent rest, to endless joy.":