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It dwells in the heart that nought inspires
But holy feelings and pure desires ;
Where nothing can come like a selfish dream,
When visions of glory around it gleam;
Proud visions that show to the gifted mind
The boundless sphere of the human kind.
Sweet Spirit of Beauty! my dreams are thine ;
But I lose thee not when the day-beams shine;
Thy image is still to my constant gaze,
At midnight hour or noontide blaze;
And none but one with a heart unsold,
Can know the bliss which thy lovers hold.

RUFUS DAWES.

HAND TO TAKE.

You're rich, and yet you are not proud;
You are not selfish, hard or vain :
You look upon the common crowd
With sympathy, and not disdain.
You'd travel får to share your gold,
With humble sorrow unconsol’d;
You'd raise the orphan from the dust,
And help the sad and widow'd mother;
Give me your hand-you shall-you must-

I love you as a brother !

You're poor, and yet

you do not scorn,
Or hate the wealthy for their wealth;
You toil, contented, night and morn,
And prize the gifts of strength and health:
You'd share your little with a friend,
And what you cannot give, you'd lend;
You take humanity on trust,
And see some merit in another;
Give me your hand-you shall—you must-

I love you as a brother!

And what care I how rich you be?
I love you, if your thoughts are pure;
What signifies your poverty,
If you can struggle and endure ?
'Tis not the birds that make the spring-
'Tis not the crown that makes the king-
If you are wise, and good, and just,
You've riches better than all other !
Give me your hand-you shall-you must-
I love you as a brother!

MACKAY.

2

It dwells in the heart that nought inspires
But holy feelings and pure desires;
Where nothing can come like a selfish dream,
When visions of glory around it gleam;
Proud visions that show to the gifted mind
The boundless sphere of the human kind.
Sweet Spirit of Beauty! my dreams are thine ;
But I lose thee not when the day-beams shine;
Thy image is still to my constant gaze,
At midnight hour or noontide blaze;
And none but one with a heart unsold,
Can know the bliss which thy lovers hold.

RUFUS DAWES.

HAND TO TAKE.

You're rich, and yet you are not proud;
You are not selfish, hard or vain :
You look upon the common crowd
With sympathy, and not disdain.
You'd travel far to share your gold,
With humble sorrow unconsolid;
You'd raise the orphan from the dust,
And help the sad and widow'd mother;
Give me your hand-you shall-you must-

I love you as a brother !

You're poor, and yet you do not scorn,
Or hate the wealthy for their wealth ;
You toil, contented, night and morn,
And prize the gifts of strength and health :
You'd share your little with a friend,
And what you cannot give, you'd lend;
You take humanity on trust,
And see some merit in another;
Give me your hand-you shall-you must-

I love you as a brother!

And what care I how rich you be ?
I love you, if your thoughts are pure;
What signifies your poverty,
If you can struggle and endure ?
"Tis not the birds that make the spring-
'Tis not the crown that makes the king-
If you are wise, and good, and just,
You've riches better than all other!
Give me your hand-you shall-you must-
I love you as a brother!

MACKAY. NATIONAL ANTHEM.

God bless our native land,
May heaven's protecting hand

Still guard our shore.
May peace her power extend,
Foe be transformed to friend,
And Britain's power depend

On war no more.
Through every changing scene,
O Lord, preserve the Queen,

Long may she reign-
Her heart inspire and move;
With wisdom from above

Her throne maintain.
May just and righteous laws
Uphold the public cause,

And bless our isle.
Home of the brave and free,
The land of Liberty !
We pray that still on thee

Kind heaven may smile.
And not this land alone,
But be thy mercies known

From shore to shore.
Lord, make the nations see
That men should brothers be,
And form one family

The wild world o'er.

SONG OF THE WATER-DRINKER.

Oh! water for me! Bright water for me!
It enslaves not the soul-it enchains not the free.
It cooleth the brow, it cooleth the brain,
It maketh the faint one strong again,
It comes o’er the senses like a breeze from the sea,
All freshness, like infant purity.
Fill to the brim ! All, fill to the brim !
Let the flowing crystal kiss the rim !
My hand is steady and my eye is true,
For I, like the flowers, drink nought but dew.
So water, pure water for me, for me;
'Tis the drink of the wise, 'tís the wine of the free.

E. JOHNSON. ABOVE AND BELOW.

Mighty river, oh! mighty river,
Rolling in ebb and flow for ever,
Through the city so vast and old;
Through massive bridges—by domes and spires,
Crowned with the smoke of a myriad tires;
City of majesty, power, and gold;
Thou lovest to float on thy waters dull
The white-winged fleets so beautiful;
And the lordly steamers speeding along,
Wind-defying, and swift and strong:
Thou bearest them all on thy motherly breast,
Laden with riches, at trade's behest.
Bounteous trade, whose wine and corn
Stock the garner and fill the horn,
Who gives us luxury, joy, and pleasure,
Stintless, sumless, out of measure-
Thou art a rich and a mighty river,
Rolling in ebb and flow for ever.

Doleful river, oh! doleful river,
Pale on thy breast the moonbeams quiver,
Through the city so drear and cold
City of sorrows hard to bear,
Of guilt, injustice, and despair-
City of miseries untold;
Thou hidest below the erring and sad
And all whom much sorrow has goaded mad.

In ebb and flow for ever and ever-
So rolls the world, thou murky river,
So rolls the tide, above and below;
Above, the rower impels his boat;
Below, with the current the dead men float:
The waves may smile in the sunny glow,
While above, in the glitter, and pomp, and glare,
The flags of the vessels flap the air ;
But below, in the silent under-tide,
The waters give forth the wretch that died :
Above, the sound of the music swells,
From the passing ship, from the city bells;
From below there cometh a gurgling breath,
As the hopeless suicide yields to death :
Above and below the waters go,
Bearing their burden of joy or woe;
Rolling along, thou mighty river,
In ebb and flow for ever and ever.

MACKAY.

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