TO MY BELOVED FRIEND MR. JAMES WOODYATT.

A CHRISTMAS LAY.

Woodyatt, this Christmas I devote Some portion of my time to tell In humble verse what G.o.d hath wrought For us who're s.n.a.t.c.hed as brands from h.e.l.l.

The best of all my coaxing powers To lure the Muse I'll freely spend, Nor heed a whit the fleeting hours Until my pleasing task shall end.

For I have found a friend in thee, Such as I strove in vain to find For twenty years; and this may be A wonder to thy generous mind.

But so it is; and I would prize The gift my G.o.d has kindly sent, Nor quell the feelings which arise Within my breast, till life be spent.

So, while my unlearned lyre I take, Most gracious Muse, thy aid impart!

Thou canst not at such time forsake Thy humble friend in this his Art.

No paltry theme shall form my lay To such a friend at such a time.

Then let my thoughts in rich array Come forth in gently flowing rhyme.

Nor wealth nor earthly pleasures make The sum and substance of my song; Such themes let grovelling rhymsters take, Who write to please a worldly throng.

For him and me a better way Remains, and I will freely sing Of pleasures with most l.u.s.trous ray,-- Of those which from religion spring.

And well indeed may'st thou, dear friend, Rejoice with me that G.o.d hath brought Such sinful creatures to attend Unto His voice who pardon brought.

I more than twice ten years have been Within the Way to Endless Life.

Thou in the last few months hast seen That Way with richest blessings rife.

And now, when seated round our fires, Or when we take our walks abroad, We seem as one in strong desires To speak the praises of our G.o.d.

Big thoughts our kindred bosoms swell, Deep grat.i.tude our ardor fires, Until we long for words to tell The fervency that Love acquires;

And ponder as so well we may Upon our present happy state Compared with that in which we lay-- Objects of wrath at h.e.l.l's dread gate.

We ask each other, Why is this?

Why are we favored thus of G.o.d?

Why are we made joint heirs of Bliss, Destined to dwell in His abode?

Quickly the answer comes to hand: Simply because of G.o.d's pure Grace.

And does not Love like G.o.d's demand That we all seasons should embrace--

To speak to others of Christ's worth, That they with us may fully share The glories of our heavenly birth, The riches He can freely spare?

Then let us, brother, with our might, Work for Him while 'tis called To-day; Looking above for strength, for light, Press forward in this thrice-blest way.

Let us dig deep into that mine Of hidden wealth stored in the Word, And with strong faith all else resign Just clinging solely to the Lord.

O, should our lives for years be spared, May not one word or thought or deed Unworthy G.o.d, be by us shared, Who are from Satan's bondage freed.

1856.

TRIBUTARY VERSES, WRITTEN IMMEDIATELY ON HEARING OF DR. O'CARR'S DEATH.

APRIL 18, 1854.

Sorrow stealeth o'er my spirit, For I hear O'Carr is dead.

Once I tried to sing his merit, After health began to fade.

Then I thought his end was nigh, That he very soon would die,

When I saw that he was leaving His sweet home for distant Isle, Oft the thought my soul was grieving "He might linger for a while And then leave his wife and babe, Far away o'er Ocean's wave."

Yet I know our loving Father Often hears his children's prayers; That he would at all times rather Ease them of their ills and cares, Than lay on a single stroke, If not needful 'neath his yoke.

And I thought he then would listen To our supplications strong; That each countenance might glisten With sweet joy ere very long: Joy from seeing him come back, Having of good health no lack.

When I heard of his returning, And how he was sinking fast, Soon my soul was strongly yearning To be with him ere he pa.s.sed From these earthly scenes away To enjoy Eternal Day.

This, my wish, kept growing stronger, As each day flew o'er my head, Till I felt I could no longer Brook delay, when lo! he's dead.

Now I prize this pleasing thought, He to Bliss is safely brought.

While hot tears bedim the vision Of dear friends who mourn his death, May they manifest decision By the wondrous power of Faith, In belief that those who sleep Safe in Jesus shall not weep.

We are not forbid to sorrow,-- Jesus wept at Lazarus' tomb.

Soon will come the glorious Morrow Which shall chase away our gloom; If we put our trust in G.o.d, And still seek to kiss His Rod.

STANZAS, SUGGESTED BY THE DREADFUL RAILWAY ACCIDENT AT THE DESJARDINS Ca.n.a.l, MARCH 12, 1857.

Deep gloom pervades my spirit, and great sorrow fills my breast With an overwhelming sense, which leaves me but little rest, For a dreadful stroke has fallen on the town in which I live, And sympathy and condolence I would most gladly give.

I have gone through many a street since this event transpired, Seen the faces of my townsmen in grief sincere attired, Heard them make sad remarks, seen tears bedim their eyes, While from every feeling bosom burst forth responsive sighs.

The stranger in our midst might well wonder why we're sad, For tokens of prosperity can everywhere be had.

The river has not risen to a mighty swelling flood, Nor raging fire destroyed the homes of the Evil and the Good.

No pestilence like a serpent, with dread envenomed fangs Has seized the young and beautiful and filled our souls with pangs.

Then why has gloom profound so settled on each face, And the finger-prints of sorrow left on us so dark a trace?

Ah! loving hearts left homes all filled with family delight.