I know not if you ever wrote a rhyme, Or framed your thoughts in a well measured line; But sure I am your language so sublime, Shows you possess a deep, poetic mine.

I listened with attention most profound, As did the audience that before you sat, Feeling as if I was on holy ground; Which in my mind deep reverence begat.

And O, when you led us in spirit back To Eden's G.o.d-formed, most delightful bowers.

Ere our great parents had endured the rack Of sin-struck consciences among her flowers,

I almost fancied that I heard the birds Warbling melodiously the praise of G.o.d; While sinless man in soul-enraptured words, Responded as he pressed the flowery sod.

And when Sin came, as with hot furnace-breath, To blast the loveliness of all around, And our progenitors first tasted death With consciousness that they were naked found,

You did portray the scene so vividly, Of their rude efforts at an uncouth dress, That tears of pity from strong sympathy Bedimmed my eyes to see their great distress.

And when you showed how G.o.d with skillful hand Employed Himself to make them coats of skin, I saw mechanic skill take higher stand From this divine and early origin.

And O, I thought this fact should ever lead Artificers to strive and manage well Their several crafts; and show by word and deed Their love to him who does in glory dwell.

Then, as I watched the progress made by Art, And peaceful Commerce coming by degrees, I felt it was your mission to impart To this war-ravaged world such views as these.

My gladsome soul did to such views respond, And utterance found before my G.o.d in prayer.

Hence caught fresh glimpses of the time beyond The present age, which shall such glory share.

Go on, great champion of the Good and True, Spread wide the messages of dove-eyed Peace, And may G.o.d's richest blessing flow to you Where'er you are, until your labors cease!

TO A VIOLET. FOUND BLOOMING IN MY GARDEN IN DECEMBER, 1859.

Beauteous, variegated flower, That with courageous mien, Not heeding much stern Winter's power, Hast let thy face be seen At such a season, and amid such dearth Of vernal beauty, I would bid thee hail; For charms like thine to me have wond'rous worth, When Summer's comforts fail.

I had not thought to see a gem Like thee, as fresh and fair As ever graced a diadem, Bloom in the open air After such killing frost as we have had; And when grim Winter had his ice bolts hurled With double vengeance, prematurely mad As though to chill the world.

Still thou art here in loveliness, But lacking Spring-time's scent, And seeming in thy charming dress, With thy lone lot content.

The while that other plants are dead to sight, And waiting patiently for Spring's approach, When King Frost's forces shall have ta'en their flight, Chased by Sol's glorious torch.

But now I bid a warm adieu, And place this in a book Where I can bring thee fresh to view.

When'er I choose to look.

Regretting only that I tore away Thee from my garden bed, where thy sweet face Lit up with smiles that nook, and made it gay, As by a sunbeam's trace.

EMMA, THE TINKER'S DAUGHTER; OR, THE BENEFITS OF SABBATH SCHOOL INSTRUCTION.

1854.

In a wretched, narrow street of an old English town, A roving tinker lived; one who would often drown Of Virtue every trace, by drinking much strong beer; Oft mixing in a fight, a stranger to all fear.

Right before his door-step, mud did the gutter fill; And once to cleanse it out he never had the will.

The windows of his house with patch-work were supplied, And all within the door by coal-smoke well was dyed.

In such a place as this, we would not hope to find One of the human race with pure and n.o.ble mind; Yet one indeed there was, whom we shall _Emma_ call-- Most beautiful her face, most lovely in her soul.

She was the only child of that sin-hardened man-- Her sainted mother died as her tenth year began; The father brutal seemed to all the World around, Yet never with his girl was he in anger found.'

And much his kindness told upon her gentle heart; It soothed her childish grief, and made her act her part.

The lessons she had learned before her mother died, Were now of greatest use, for she was sorely tried.

And when her father went to stay a week away, She read her Bible oft, and cared not much for play; But, feeling ill at ease, with dirt within and out She whitewashed all the rooms; of this you need not doubt.

The gutter still remained, just in its former state; That she could not mend, so left it to its fate.

But now she scrubbed the floors, and waited patiently, Till came her father home, who smiled the change to see.

His feelings were roused up when he viewed the comforts round, And wondered where the child could so much skill have found?

Then clasped her in his arms--felt now inclined to be More worthy of his girl, and work right steadily.

About this time there came a Sabbath visitor, Who had got youths to school, but wanted many more.

The tinker angry sat, nor asked the man within; Said, "Emma read her Book, and did not live in sin."

But she, quite conscience-struck, said, "Father, you're not right, We all great sinners are, in G.o.d's most holy sight; My Bible tells me this--I'm sure it speaks the truth; Please let me go to school, while I am yet a youth!"

This unexpected thrust went to his parent-heart; Yet still he did not like with his dear girl to part; But bid the man sit down, and tell him what was taught In these same Sabbath Schools, of which he had not thought.

This friend was nothing loath; he sought the good of souls-- Had tasted Jesus' love, which selfishness controls; So told how many folks, by best of motives led, Gave their own pleasure up, and taught the young instead.

'Mongst these were often found some great in rank and wealth, Who loved the cause so well, they did it not by stealth; But honor counted it to teach in Sunday School, And thus to square their lives by their dear Savior's Rule.

The tinker was surprised to hear such news as this; He thought that all fine folks were full of selfishness; But, if it all was true, the girl at once might go-- Whatever good she got, she soon that good would show.

Then Emma threw her arms around his neck, and said, "Dear father, for your love you shall be well repaid; When I come home from school, I'll tell you all I learn, Then the good of Sabbath Schools you may soon discern."

She asked the man to tell where she would have to go; Who said, "My little girl, 'tis there, in _Union Row_; In that large, lofty house; the time is half-past two."

This heard, forth Emma went, and made no more ado.

The father, when alone, sat long time lost in thought, Then took the Bible up, and through its pages sought; He wished to see himself if all they said was true; But little progress made--such work to him was new.

Soon came his bright-eyed girl, with face like rose in June, Who told of hymns they sung, and of each pretty tune; What chapters there were read--the questions asked she told-- What prayers were offered up, both for the young and old.

She said her teacher was a lady very grand, Who, when she first went in, most kindly took her hand, And led her to a seat where she herself sat down, Nor seemed afraid to crush her beautiful silk gown.

The tinker heard it all, and wondered in his mind How gentlefolks could be so very good and kind; And promised her she should next Sabbath go again, But wished that she would now her former words explain.

His conscience told him oft that he was far from right, That he had wicked been, in sinning against light; Oh, was there then no hope that he should yet be saved?

This thought was hard to bear, and could not well be braved.

Then Emma meekly spoke, and told him all she knew; And searched the Bible's page, to prove her words were true.

This was an easy task, for there 'twas clearly seen How men, because of sin, by G.o.d condemned had been.