ee;
To tread the path of rectitude--that when
Life's dying ray shall glimmer in the frame,
That latest breath I may in peace resign,
"Firm in the faith of seeing thee and God."

SONNET.

TO CHARITY.

O! best-beloved of Heaven, on earth bestow'd,
To raise the pilgrim sunk with ghastly fears,
To cool his burning wounds, to wipe his tears,
And strew with amaranths his thorny road.
Alas! how long has Superstition hurl'd
Thine altars down, thine attributes reviled,
The hearts of men with witchcrafts foul beguiled.
And spread his empire o'er the vassal world?
But truth returns! she spreads resistless day;
And mark, the monster's cloud-wrapt fabric falls--
He shrinks--he trembles 'mid his inmost halls,
And all his damn'd illusions melt away!
The charm dissolved--immortal, fair, and free,
Thy holy fanes shall rise, celestial Charity!

HYMN.

Sung by the Children of the City of London School of Instruction
and Industry.

CHORUS.

Sacred, and heart-deep be the sound
Which speaks the Great Redeemer's praise,
His mercies every where abound,
Let all their grateful voices raise.

BOYS.

The friendless child, to manhood grown,
Will ne'er forget your parent care;
You've made each youthful heart your own,
Oh! then accept our humble prayer.

GIRLS.

For ever be that bounty praised,
Which every comfort doth impart;
In tears of joy the song is raised
From minstrels of the glowing heart.

CHORUS.

Glory to Thee, all-bounteous Power!
In notes of thankfulness be given;
Sure solace in affliction's hour!
Our hope on Earth, our bliss in Heaven.
Hallelujah! Amen.

REFLECTIONS OF A POET,

ON GOING TO A GREAT DINNER.

Great epoch in the history of bards!
Important day to those who woo the nine;
Better than fame are visitation-cards,
And heaven on earth at a great house to dine.

O cruel memory! do not conjure up
The ghost of Sally Dab, the famous cook;
Who gave me solid food, the cheering cup,
And on her virtues begg'd I'd write a book.

For her dear sake I braved the letter'd fates,
And all her loose thoughts in one volume cramm'd;
"The Accomplish'd Cook, in verse, with twenty plates:"
Which (O! ungrateful deed!) the critics d----d.

D--n them, I say, the tasteless envious elves;
Malicious fancy makes them so expert,
They write 'bout dinners, who ne'er dine themselves,
And boast of linen, who ne'er had a shirt.

Rest, go