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MRS. GRAY.

And matrons talk'd, as matrons will, of sickness and of health, Of birds, and deaths, and marriages, of poverty and wealth; And youths and maidens stole apart, within the shady grove, And whisper'd 'neath its spreading boughs, perchance some tale of love.

I remember, I remember, how to the church-yard lone I've stolen away, and say me down beside the rude grave-stone, Or read the names of those who slept beneath the clay-cold clod, And thought of spirits glittering bright before the throne of God; Or where the little rivulet danced sportively and bright, Receiving on its limpid breast the sun's meridian light, I've wander'd forth, and thought if hearts were pure like this sweet stream, How fair to heaven they might reflect heaven's uncreated beam.

I remember, I remember, the second sermon o'ver, We turn'd our faces once again to our paternal door; And round the well-fill'd, ample board, sat no reluctant guest, For exercise gave appetite, and loved ones shared the feast. Then ere the sunset hour arrived, as we were wont to do, The Catechism's well-conn'd page, we said it through and through. And childhood's faltering tongue was heard to lisp the holy word, And older voices read aloud the message of the Lord.

Away back in those days of yore, perhaps the fault was mine, I used to think the Sabbath-day, dear Lord, was wholly thine; When it behoved to keep the heart, and bridle fast the tongue, But those were very simple times, and I was very young;——.

The world has grown much older since those sun-bright Sabbath days, The world has grown much older since, and she has changed her ways; Some say that she has wiser grown,—— ah me! it may be true, As wisdom comes by length of days—— but so does dotage too.

oh! happy, happy days of youth, how beautiful, how fair, To memory's retrospective eye, your trodden pathways are! The thorns forgot, remember'd still the fragrance and the flowers, The loved companions of my youth, and sunny Sabbath hours! And onward, onward, onward still successive Sabbaths come, As guides to lead us on the road to our eternal home, Or like the vision'd ladder once to slumbering Jacob given, From heaven descending to the earth, led back from earth of heaven!

TWO HUNDRED YEARS AGO.
Written for the bi-centennial celebration of the theological standards by the illustrious Westminster assembly of divines.

Two hundred years, two hundred years, our bark o'er billowy seas, Has onward kept her steady course, through hurricane and breeze; Her Captain was the mighty One, she braved the stormy foe, And still He guides who guided her, two hundred years ago.

Her chard was God's unerring word, by which her course to steer, Her helmsman was the risen Lord, a helper ever near; Though many a beauteous boat has sunk the treacherous wave below, Yet ours is sound as she was built, two hundred years ago. 
14* L

Transcription Notes:
---------- Reopened for Editing 2023-06-28 07:25:50