This is his life's great aim; but what beyond it?
Of Truth's bright treasure though he love to tell,
In barren mines of lore he hath not found it,
Bowing beneath his idol's deadly spell.
But gaze on One, who seeks in all around him,
Lessons of good to cheer him on his way,
As every golden year through life hath found him
Nearer the realms of Heaven's eternal day.
With him events of earth are sweet evangels,
All meaner things but step-stones hurled beneath;
Whilst nobler lead to Eden-realms of angels,
With shining robes, and crown, and amaranth wreath.
Oh! fellow-pilgrims through this desert dreary,
In all the scenes of life God's mercy trace,
Then though with grief cast down, with watching weary,
Strong shall ye stand in His sufficient grace!
Thus sweet, melodious tones and forms of beauty,
All glorious sights and sounds may ever prove
Angels to lure us on the path of duty,
Echoes of symphonies that float above!
BODILY DEFORMITY, SPIRITUAL BEAUTY.
WHO has not observed in passing through the crowded streets of our
city, how great, comparatively, is the number of those, who are more
or less deformed? My heart aches for these poor unfortunates, who
are deprived of some of the legitimate avenues of enjoyment which
God has so bounteously vouchsafed to me.
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