Dimas turned all he touched to gold, (so say the fabled tales of yore,)
Ere long he found what most he wished, he most had reason to deplore;
Leave sordid joys to sordid minds, and vain amusements to the vain ;
Soon, Dimas-like, they each will find their wishes realized their bane.
Come, quickly, to my unfurled banner, ere youth's buoyancy has fled,
Or Time throws his mantle o'er you, and with silverings decks your head,
Uninfluenced by my maxims, you will bow to Folly's shrine, Lured by her deceitful pleasures, you will with her votaries join;
Listen to my frequent callings, youthful wanderers through life's maze,
And my paths will yield you solace when your youthful bloom decays,
'Round you shed celestial comforts when you mostly need their aid,
Cheer Death's dreary, untried valley, light its dark and dismal shade,
Wide unfurl the pearly portals! you receive to perfect bliss, Who would choose ephemeral pleasures, and refuse a lot like this?
THE REMONSTRANCE.
Child of my loved, now disembodied friend,
With pain I see your steps toward Folly bend.
I knew, indeed, around life's path would rise
Folly's vain train, and claim you as their prize;
And injudicious friends I feared would aid
The effort by that wily siren made,
And yet, I fondly hoped to see your mind
To Wisdom's far superior joys inclined,
And in our frequent interviews, would try
To fix your mind on immortality,
For this employed the grass that clothes the field,
And lovely flowers that sweetest odors yield;
The star-bestudded sky, the lunar rays,
The shade of twilight, and the solar blaze,
The rill, the stream, the zephyr, and the breeze
That fans the opening flower, or rustles through the trees,
The foaming wave washing the ocean strand,
Erasing lines inscribed upon the sand,
Called to my aid the ghost of murdered time,
And the last hours of one in youthful prime;
By satire showed how vain the priestly aid,
Should God enforce the laws his wisdom made;
Oft pointed to the Oracles divine,
Where boundless grace and richest mercy shine!
Descanted on the christian's happy home,
On immortality beyond the tomb,
And thornless pleasures ever-during bloom;
Contrasted those bright realms of fadeless bliss,
With an unsatisfying world like this,
Doomed to recede, just like a fleeting dream,
Or bark engulfed, or meteor's transient gleam.
But has the book of nature, and of grace,
Failed to persuade you wisdom to embrace ?
And must your scribbling friend her hopes resign,
And view gay Folly unmolested 'twine
Her perishable wreaths around your brow,
While with her votaries at her shrine you bow,
And pace with footsteps fleet the treacherous road
That leads from Heaven, from happiness, and God?
Life's term expired, to die without a ray
Of hope, (well grounded,) to illume the way,
That untried way, of all our race the doom,
The cheerless pathway to the silent tomb;
Or rather, once more urge you to peruse
The inspired volume, and salvation choose;
That heavenly peace, with gentle, balmy wing,
May to your breast its richest comforts bring;
And while with hasty steps time presses on,
And folly's thoughtless, careless ones are borne
Down dark oblivion's fathomless abyss !
This rapid car may you convey
To realms of ever-during day,
To immortality, and ceaseless bliss.
Your sincere friend,
Recent intelligence has reached mine ear,
And filled my breast with pure exalted joy,
Such as the bright celestial beings cheer,
And their glad voices, and their harps employ;
One lured by treacherous folly to her tent,
Displayed her banners, and her garlands wore,
Has broke her magic spell, most fully bent,
Wisdom's pure, sacred temple to explore.
She with the triflers, leaves her gay attire,
And perishable wreaths, that have entwined
Her brow, convinced no earth-born vain desire,
Can fully satiate an immortal mind;
She takes a Pilgrim staff, and sandals new
She binds upon her tender, willing feet,
Determined no rude foe shall her subdue ;
Not even death, should she the tyrant meet.
She journies with a firm intrepid step,
But soon perplexing roads obstruct her way,
Guides bearing torches, lit (as they affirm)
By Heaven's own matchless lamp, truth to display ;
She stops irresolute;—at length exclaims :
Do all these roads lead to one temple fair?
Why then such zeal for different forms, and aims, If all at last meet at one banquet there?
But ah! too frequently these guides contend,
In fierce, unscriptural, polemic strife,*
Is there no guide my footsteps to attend,
Through wisdom's portals to eternal life?
But if they light their torches at one lamp,
Having that lamp, do I their gleamings need?
As theirs appear to me of doubtful stamp,
I'll light my own and on my way proceed.
Most wise decision! here too many err,
And now fair wisdom's portals wide unfold;
She enters, and receives a faultless chart
Of far more worth than mines of choicest gold.
And as she grasps it, hear her thus exclaim,—
This gift from wisdom infinite is mine,
These precepts to obey shall be my aim;
They 're stamped with truth and sealed with blood divine.
Led by this priceless chart, she soon repairs
+Where Christian Pilgrims their glad anthems raise;
She enters, they discern the staff she bears,
And each glad Pilgrim offers silent praise;
Jesus confessed as God's Exalted Son,
All to the water-side with speed repair,
To see this Pilgrim put the Savior on,
And take HIS NAME, which she henceforth shall wear.
Oh, happy Pilgrim! from thy sins released,
And ranked with those who bear this hallowed name;
May'st thou in grace and knowledge still increase,
And by thy words and actions put to shame,
* While it is to be regretted, it is nevertheless a fact, that on this basis the infidel erects his standard and unfurls his banners, and hence, the sincere inquirer after truth, becomes perplexed; but as these all profess to take their creed from the Bible, it is best to go to this fountain-for there is one perfect system taught therein, and should be sought for as for hidden treasure.
† In St. John, N. B., there are a company calling themselves Disciples of Jesus Christ. They profess to take the New Testament for their only guide, without creed or comment; happy will it be for them, if they conform to the profession thus made. It was in this place, and before this congregation, that this young lady confessed that she believed that Jesus was the Son of God, and that, being buried in the likeness of his death, she should receive the remission of sins that were past Search to see if she was right.
All who in folly's tent do still remain ;
And such as garbed with philosophic pride,
Reject the Savior, and his laws disdain,
And those who prize them, scornfully deride.
Now, Christian Pilgrim, arm thee for the field,
Lest, peradventure, thou be called to fight;
Learn thou, the spirit's mighty sword to wield,
By which thou may'st whole armies put to flight.
Though inefficient I the war still wage,
And as I feel my mental powers decay,
To hear that youthful votaries engage
In the same warfare, cheers my Pilgrim way.
Dear Christian Pilgrim! we perhaps may meet
On this side Jordan, but its surges o'er,
If we are faithful, certainly shall greet
Each other on fair Canaan's happy shore.
Hallelujah to the Lamb who has purchased our pardon,
We will praise Him when passed the dark swellings of
Jordan.
RECITED AT THE ANNUAL EXHIBITION OF THE BLIND, YORK CITY, ENG., MAY 16, 1843.
They tell us of the starry train
That sparkle on yon sky of blue,
When gently o'er yon verdant plain,
The evening sheds its radiant hue.
And of the glorious orb of day,
That 'lumes the spacious earth we tread,
Alas! in vain its golden ray
Upon our sightless eyes is shed.
They tell us of the landscape fair,
The gushing fount, the pleasant shade,
Of spring's young flowers that blossom there,
In nature's lovely garb arrayed.
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