SLAVERY.

Is there a man within this isle,
Who would not feel his bosom boil
To see the negro's murd'rous toil,
And slavery's horrid cruelty?

Is there a man of such a mind,
Could see the sons of human kind
In slav'ry's iron grasp confined,

And mock at all their misery?

Is there a man who could behold
His brother man, for love of gold,
By slavery bought-by slavery sold,
And view the traffic heedlessly?

Is there a man of woman born,
Could see a hapless husband torn
From his dear wife, with bitter scorn,
And smile at his calamity?

Is there a man that could look on
A mother riven from her son,
Without a glimpse of pity shown,
And turn away unfeelingly?

Is there could see the negro bound,
And from his back the lash resound,
Until his blood bedew'd the ground,

And not bewail him mournfully?

Yes, strange to tell, but we have men
Who slavery's bloody cause maintain,
Yea, and uphold its gory reign

With all their power tenaciously!

Men they are not, but demons sent,
That thus the human race torment-
Upon destruction madly bent,
And diabolic villany.

Slavery!—that detested name

Stains deep the British nation's fame : My country! wake, and see your shame, And save your honour speedily.

Let every heart and hand unite
To struggle in the glorious fight,
Till cursed Slavery lose its might,
And yield to blessed Liberty!

Let Freedom's banners be unfurl'd, Widely, throughout the negro world, And Slavery's fabric down be hurl'dHaste, Heaven, haste its destiny!

THE DYING SAINT TO HIS SOUL.

The following piece was occasioned by reading to his Soul when dying."

"Adrian's Address

My soul, thou go'st, but not like his * of old, That wing'd her way, he had no knowledge whither:

Thy home outshines the brightest, purest gold-| Lo! angels wait to be thy safeguard thither.

Demons of darkness, doubtlessly, will try

To snatch thee as thou soar'st to holiest regions; But thou shalt reach thy pure abode on high, Spite of the machinations of hell's legions.

There shalt thou live in joys as yet unknownO'er death, o'er hell, and ev'ry ill victorious; There misery's pangs dare never force a groanThere thou shalt dwell with thy Redeemer glorious.

* Adrian's.

THE EIGHTH PSALM

PARAPHRASED.

LORD, our Lord, through creation's lines,
All excellence thy name combines !
Thy glory thou hast set on high,
Above the azure, vaulted sky;

Thou strength from infants' mouths hast made
To awe and keep thy foes in dread.

When I in contemplation view
The wide expanse of heavenly blue,
The moon, with all the starry train,
Which thou hast fix'd therein to reign,—
What is the human race, to be

In goodness look'd upon by thee !

Or, what is son of man, that Thou
To visit him should'st deign to bow?
Thou form❜dst him next to angel's state-
Hast glory's crown upon him set;

Thou of thy works him sovereign madest-
Below his feet thou all things laid'st.

C