Part 15 (2/2)

They yet may linger round the sh.o.r.e, and think to get on board, But they must come to Heaven's terms; the standard can't be lowered.

Thrice happy they who're in the s.h.i.+p, though tossed with angry waves!

”Our Father's at the helm,” and all who trust in him he saves; Those who in heart give up their all, lie pa.s.sive in his hand, He'll bring with safety into port, to their own promised land.

False Fame and True.

While men, our faults perceiving not, would move our fame to raise, How oft our natures weakly yield to flattery and praise, Oh! what in us should e'er excite our vanity and pride!

Or cause us not in lowliness, vain thoughts of self to hide?

Let deeds of charity and love in all our life abound; Philanthrophy fails not to go, where'er a sufferer's found, To seek the poor, degraded, low, the wicked and debased, Though his own name by slander's tongue, be ever thus defaced.

These are the jewels he would gain, this course would fain pursue; That he is not like them, he asks, to whom is glory due?

Who made us thus to differ here? who gives the strength and power To hold the victory over self, in dark temptation's hour?

Let him who thinks he stands take heed; this is the word to all; The strongest may be overcome, and through temptation fall.

Do we in higher circles move? are higher placed by birth?

No such distinction will be known, when moldering in the earth.

But deeds of kind benevolence will live when we are dead; The poor will think how they were clothed, and shared our daily bread; The once abandoned who've reformed beneath our fostering care, Will bless the day they ever lived our sympathies to share.

Such the remembrance I would have, alive or in my grave, To have been the humble instrument some sinking soul to save.

For this I turn from pleasure's scenes, to weep with those that weep; To strive their sufferings to a.s.suage, their confidence to keep.

Though on them glows the copper tint, though African their race, What matters these distinctions of their nation, lot, or place?

For oh! the highest joy of earth is comfort to impart To those who lie 'neath fortune's frowns, with sad and suffering heart.

Though hidden from the public view, unseen your acts of love, If heart and hand be clean and pure, their record lives above.

Let me thus seek my neighbor's good, thus helpless sufferers raise; Be this the glory of my fame; be deeds of love my praise.

Return unto the Lord.

Have you again become To appet.i.te a slave?

You've boasted victory here, Why sink beneath the wave?

You say, I have no hope, No strength within me lies, And sinking still, I fear I ne'er again shall rise.

My efforts all have failed, To keep the victory gained.

Where look for refuge now?

Or hope to be sustained?

A helpless sufferer, true, On confines of despair, While knowing there's no hope, If you continue there.

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