English

Come in, Aunt Jemima,
Oh no, 'taint wof while,
I jis been out a lookin'
At de wintah styles.

To see de change in coats,
En how de hats will be,
To go into dem stores,
La! 'tis a sight to see.

I jis stans' en looks,
En den I looks en t'inks
What will be de next t'ing
As we near de fashion's brink.

Case way back in my time,
No sich styles as dese,
Ever cums befo' de folks, —
We dressed den as we pleased.

We wo' our linsey frocks,

Come , Hooker, come forth of thy native soile :
Christ, I will run, sayes Hooker, thou hast set
My feet at large, here spend thy last dayes toile;
Thy Rhetorick shall peoples affections whet.
Thy Golden Tongue, and Pen Christ caus'd to be
The blazing of his golden truths profound,
Thou sorry worme its Christ wrought this in thee;

1. Come, Holy Spirit, Dove divine On these bap-
2. We love thy name, we love thy laws, And joyful-
tismal waters shine, And teach our hearts, in
ly embrace thy cause; We love thy cross, the
highest strain, To praise the Lamb, for sinners slain.
shame, the pain, O Lamb of God, for sinners slain.

3. We sink beneath thy mystic flood;
O bathe us in thy cleansing blood;
We die to sin, and seek a grave,
With thee, beneath the yielding wave.

4. And as we rise, with thee to live,
O let the Holy Spirit give

COME , Holy Dove,
Descend on silent pinion,
Brood o'er my sinful soul with patient love,
Till all my being owns Thy mild dominion.

Round yon sad Tree
With frequent circles hover,
That in my glorious Surety I may see
Grace to redeem and righteousness to cover.

On wings of peace
Bring from that precious Altar
The Blood which bids the storms of conscience cease,
And blots out all the debt of the defaulter.

Spirit of Grace,
Reveal in me my Saviour,
That I may gaze upon His mirrored Face,

Come hither, you that love, and hear me sing
Of joys still growing,
Green, fresh, and lusty as the pride of spring,
And ever blowing.
Come hither, youths that blush, and dare not know
What is desire;
And old men, worse than you, that cannot blow
One spark of fire;
And with the power of my enchanting song,
Boys shall be able men, and old men young.

Come hither, you that hope, and you that cry;
Leave off complaining;
Youth, strength, and beauty, that shall never die,
Are here remaining.

1.

  Come hither ye dreamers of dreams,
  Ye soothsayers, wizards and witches,
  That puzzle the world with hard names,
  And without any meaning make speeches:
   Here's a lord in the north,
   Near Edinburgh Forth,
Though little's been said of his name or his worth;
He's seen such a vision, no mortal can reach it,
I challenge the clan of Egyptians to match it.

2.

  And first, in the dark it was told him,

Come hither and behold this lady's face,
Who lies asleep, as if strong Death had kissed
Upon her eyes the kiss none can resist,
And held her fast in his prolonged embrace!
See the still lips, which grant no answering grace
To Love's fond prayers, and the sweet, carven smile,
Sign of some dream-born joy which did beguile
The dreaming soul from its fair resting-place!
So will she look when Death indeed has sway
O'er her dear loveliness, and holds her fast
In that last sleep which knows nor night nor day,

Come here, thou proud pretender unto arts,
Most self-amazing sophy, look and learn;
Nor travel more from east to west for food.
Advert thine eye, in contemplation close,
On these thy little betters heaven-fed.
Up to yon luminary raise a thought,
Whose majesty so mild, in all her forms,
The mighty ocean follows faithfully:
View her with wonder leading up the waves
To give unto this mussel due repast.
In full felicity behold it fixed,
Contented waiting the appointed time;
Now sleeping in its cell, wherein anon

" Come here, my boy; hould up your head,
And look like a jintleman, Sir;
Jist tell me who King David was —
Now tell me if you can, Sir. "
" King David was a mighty man,
And he was King of Spain, Sir;
His eldest daughter " Jessie" was
The " Flower of Dunblane," Sir. "

" You're right, my boy; hould up your head,
And look like a jintleman, Sir;
Sir Isaac Newton — who was he?

Come here, little Robin, and don't be afraid,
I would not hurt even a feather;
Come here, little Robin, and pick up some bread,
To feed you this very cold weather.

The winter has come, but it will not stay long,
And summer we soon shall be greeting;
Then remember, dear Robin, to sing me a song
In return for the breakfast you're eating.