Poetry

WritUnfor the measion of a recent Cliuach De (liration in Busten, Ancienl of Days! except thon deign Upon OHr finished inek to smile, The workmnn'shand has toiled n vain To hew the rock and rear the pile. O, Iet iby peace, the peacc that tamca The wayward lieart, inhabit here; Thai quenches pnssion's fiercest flamrs, And tbawa the doad!y frost of fear. And send thy love; the love ihat b'ara Mcckly wilh hate, and scorn, and wrong; Vnd loada itself with generous cares; And toils, and hopea, and waiches long. Ilere n.ay bold longuca thy truth proclaim, TJnmingled with the dreamsof men, As from Hia holy lips t came, Who died tor us and rose ngain.