English

At Richmond, in the month of May,
I climbed the city's lofty crest;
Below, the level landscape lay,
And proudly streamed, from east to west,
The glories of the dawning day.

There stand the statues Crawford gave
His country, while with bleeding heart
She showered upon his open grave
The laurels of victorious Art,
And wept the life she could not save.

How grandly, on that granite base,
The youthful hero sits sublime;
The leader of the chosen race,
The noblest of the sons of Time,

Come here ye rich, come here ye great,
Come here ye grave, come here ye gay,
Behold our blest, though humble fate,
Who, while the sun shines, make our hay.

II.

The gay plum'd lady, with her state,
Would she in courts a moment stay.
Could she but guess our happy fate,
Who, while the sun shines, make our hay.

III.

I.

Jesus thy gospel armour gird,
To spread abroad thy gracious fame,
Ride in the chariot of thy word,
And teach the dying world thy name.

II.

Triumph in mercy through our land,
And cause the poor dry bones to move;
Display thy love, make bare thine hand,
And teach immortal souls thy love.

III.

Here's some immers'd in shades of night,
And some involv'd in deep distress;

On this sweet Sabbath morning, let us wander
From the loud music and the gay parade,
Where sleeps the graveyard, in its silence, yonder,
Deep in the mountain shade.

There, side by side, the dark, green cedars cluster,
Like sentries watching by that camp of Death;
There, like an army's tents, with snow-white lustre,
The gravestones gleam beneath.

But, as we go, no posted guard or picket
Stay our approach across the level grass,
Nor hostile challenge at the simple wicket
Through which our footsteps pass.

I.

All hail, all hail, ye souls that dwell
Just on the verge of death and hell,
Behold your mighty Saviour's come!
To day he spreads his arms abroad,
Inviting sinners home to GOD ;
Come mourning souls, with Jesus dwell.

II.

Unbounded goodness waits for you,
To heal your wounds, and feed you too;

A thousand sounds, and each a joyful sound:
The dragon-flies are darting as they please;
The humming-birds are humming all around;
The clethra all alive with buzzing bees.
Each playful leaf its separate whisper found,
As laughing winds went rustling through the grove;
And I saw thousands of such sights as these,
And heard a thousand sounds of joy and love.

And yet so dull I was, I did not know
That He was there who all this love displayed;
I did not think how He who loved us so
Shared all my joy,—was glad that I was glad;

To-day the good ship sails!
Across the sparkling sea,
To-day the northern gales
Are blowing swift and free;
Speed, speed her distant way
To that far land of gold;
A richer prize we seek than they,
The Argonauts of old!

Who goes with us? Who quits the tiresome shore;
And sails where Fortune beckons him away;
Where in that marvellous land, in virgin ore,
The wealth of years is gathered in a day?
Here, toil and trouble are our portion still,
And still with want our weary work is paid,

To cure man's jealously, that spleen , too common,
Our author chose me, a firm friend to Woman!
A willing doctor — But the downright fact is,
In this new way, I'm but ill turn'd for practice .

Yet hang it — in an age unform'd for daring ,
What is there in the breeches , but the wearing!
My outside's man , and I've seen many a true one .
Look — full as little likely — to undo one!

Mark, Ladies! and from this night's scene discover,
What art's I'll teach ye all, to hunt a lover;

I.

Ye sons of Adam lift your eyes,
Behold how free the Saviour dies,
To save your souls from hell!
There's your Creator, and your friend;
Believe and soon your fears shall end,
And you in glory dwell.

II.

Doubt not his word; his grace is free,
Believe he died and calls for thee,
And your poor souls shall live:
Can free salvation be deny'd,
When in his dying groans he cry'd,
" Father their sins forgive. "

III.

Believe and feel his boundless love;

If 'tis love to wish you near,
To tremble when the wind I hear,
Because at sea you floating rove:
If of you to dream at night,
To languish when you're out of sight,
If this be loving — then I love.

II:

If, when you're gone, to count each hour,
To ask of every tender power
That you may kind and faithful prove;
If, void of falshood and deceit,
I feel a pleasure now we meet,
If this be loving — then I love.