O help us, Lord! Each hour of need
Thy heavenly succour give;
Help us in thought and word and deed
Each hour on earth we live.

O help us when our spirits bleed,
With contrite anguish sore,
And when our hearts are cold and dead,
O help us, Lord, the more.

O help us through the prayer of faith
More firmly to believe;
For still the more the servant hath,
The more shall he receive.

O help us, Jesus, from on high,
We know no help but thee,
O help us so to live and die
As thine, in heaven to be.

Proconsul of Bithynia,
Who loved to turn the night to day,
Yet for your ease had more to show
Than others for their push and go.
Teach us to save the Spirit's expense,
And win to Fame through indolence.

When our heads are bowed with woe,
When our bitter tears o'erflow;
When we mourn the lost, the dear,
Gracious Son of Mary, hear!

Thou out throbbing flesh hast worn,
Thou our mortal griefs hast borne,
Thou hast shed the human tear:
Gracious Son of Mary, hear!

When the sullen death-bell tolls
For our own departed souls,
When our final doom is near,
Gracious Son of Mary, hear!

Thou hast bowed the dying head
Thou the blood of life hast shed;
Thou hast filled a mortal bier:
Gracious Son of Mary, hear!

Brother, thou art gone before us: and thy saintly soul is flown
Where tears are wiped from every eye, and sorrow is unknown:
From the burden of the flesh, and from care and fear releas'd,
Where the wicked cease from troubling, and the weary are at rest.

The toilsome way thou'st travelled o'er, and borne the heavy load;
But Christ hath taught thy languid feet to reach His blest abode:
Thou'rt sleeping now, like Lazarus upon his father's breast,
Where the wicked cease from troubling, and the weary are at rest.

Her hands were clasp'd, her dark eyes raised,
The breeze threw back her hair;
Up to the fearful wheel she gazed —
All that she loved was there.
The night was round her clear and cold,
The holy heaven above,
Its pale stars watching to behold
The might of earthly love.

" And bid me not depart, " she cried,
" My Rudolph, say not so!
This is no time to quit thy side,
Peace, peace! I cannot go.
Hath the world aught for me to fear,
When death is on thy brow?
The world! what means it? — mine is here —

Prince William, of the Brunswick race,
To witness George's sad disgrace
The royal lad came over.
Rebels to kill, by right divine —
Derived from that illustrious line,
The beggars of Hanover.

So many chiefs got broken pates
In vanquishing the rebel states,
So many nobles fell.
That George the Third in passion cried:
" Our royal blood must now be tried;
'T is that must break the spell;

" To you [the fat pot-valiant swain
To Digby said], dear friend of mine,
To you I trust my boy;

Spirit of God! descend upon my heart;
Wean it from earth, though all its pulses move;
Stoop to my weakness, mighty as thou art,
And make me love thee, as I ought to love.

I ask no dream, no prophet ecstasies,
No sudden rending of the veil of clay;
No angel visitant, no opening skies; —
But take the dimness of the soul away.

Hast thou not bid us love thee, God and King?
All, all thine own — soul, heart, and strength, and mind;
I see thy cross — there teach my heart to cling:
O! let me seek thee, — and O! let me find!

Come, let us dance and sing,
While our spirits lightly wing;
Youth's gay fantastic spring
Wreathes the mystic bow'rs!
Bend here thy quivering feet,
Fancy thy smiles shall greet,
Dimples 'mid roses sweet,
And fruits with glowing flowers!
Glide along,
Join my song,
Meet me in the varied throng;
Crown'd with May,
Laughing gay,
Hailing like a lark the day!
Thus the sweet spring we taste,
Ere our genial warmth shall waste,
With Nature's blessings grac'd,
We sport the hours away.

Life's an uncertain joy,

The primitive Pithecanthropus erectus
With whom the ethnologists rightly connect us
Defended his own
By cudgel and stone;
Why isn't our ancestor here to protect us?

The arrogant Pithecanthropus erectus
Whose traits, through inheritance, deeply affect us,
Was sure it was good
To grab all he could,
Like some of his offspring whose morals deject us.

The ape man, the Pithecanthropus erectus,
Has many descendants prepared to dissect us;
With them might is right,
And if we can't fight

Repeat, O, Muse! the virtuous song
Of him, whose bosom knew no art;
Whose native measures, wild and strong,
Pour'd the free dictates of his heart.

“TOSS'D 'midst life's terrific storms,
“My soul on Nature's centre clings,
“Striving to taste each scatter'd bliss,
“And loudly grateful anthems sings.

“When flying o'er the billowy deep,
“Upborne the sounding waves among,
“While winds the boiling ocean sweep,
“And lightenings dart their fires along;

“Absorb'd, unmov'd, resolv'd of mind,
“I dare the elements assault,