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Ruler of earth, and God of heaven,
By the blessings thou hast given—
Smiling skies and blooming earth,
To all who taste their taintless worth;
By the days of peace and health,
By the intellectual wealth,
And the deep domestic bliss
Which the temperate still possess—
With thy strength, and by thy aid
To support the effort made—

We renounce the bowl-and never
Taste the drunkard's draught-for ever!

Ruler of earth, and God of heaven,
By the blessings thou hast given—
Turned to poison on the lips!
By the reason's dread eclipse!
By the drunkard's dying groans!
By his wretched widow's moans!
By his helpless orphan's cry,
Ascending to thy throne on high-
With thy strength, and by thy aid
To support the effort made—

We renounce the bowl and never

Taste the drunkard's draught—for ever!

Ruler of earth and God of heaven!
By the blessings thou has given
To support the weak, and cheer
The humblest of thy creatures here ;
By the hearts with purer fire
Filled, who yet may dare aspire
To thy glorious throne above,
There to sing of joy and love-
With thy strength, and by thy aid
To support the effort made—

We renounce the bowl-and never

Taste the drunkard's draught—for ever!

JOHN BETHUNE.

WHAT IS NOBLE?

WHAT is noble? To inherit
Wealth, estate, and proud degree?
There must be some other merit,
Higher yet than these for me!
Something greater far must enter
Into life's majestic span;

Fitted to create and centre

True nobility in man!

What is noble? "Tis the finer
Portion of our mind and heart;
Link'd to something still diviner
Than mere language can impart :
Ever prompting-ever seeing

Some improvement yet to plan;
To uplift our fellow-being,

And, like man, to feel for man !

What is noble? Is the sabre
Nobler than the humble spade?
There is dignity in labour,

Truer than e'er pomp arrayed!
He who seeks the mind's improvement,
Aids the world in aiding mind.
Every great commanding movement
Serves not one but all mankind.

O'er the forge's heat and ashes-
O'er the engine's iron head-
Where the rapid shuttle flashes,
And the spindle whirls its thread—
There is labour, lowly tending
Each requirement of the hour;
There is genius, still extending

Science and its world of power!

'Mid the dust and speed and clamour
Of the loom-shed and the mill;
'Midst the clink of wheel and hammer,
Great results are growing still!
Though too oft, by fashion's creatures,
Work and workers may be blamed,
Commerce need not hide its features,
Industry is not ashamed.

What is noble? That which places
Truth in its enfranchised will;
Leaving steps, like angel-traces,
That mankind may follow still :
E'en through scorn's malignant glances,
Prove him poorest of his clan-

He's the noble who advances

Freedom, and the cause of man.

CHARLES SWAIN.

A WINTER SKETCH FROM OLDERMANN*.

What a religious silence is outspread

O'er all the rude and solitary scene

So cold, so pure, so solemn, so serene

* A bold precipitous hill, in the romantic valley of Saddleworth, a few miles from Ashton-under-Lyne.

L

From the deep valley to the mountain's head!
Ice-roof'd, the stream runs mutely o'er its bed ;
The torrent lingers in its midway leap;
The firs, in all their branches, are asleep;
The bird is absent, and the bee is fled;
From moss-fringed fountains not a tear is shed;
Of human life no shape or voice is near;

And the sole sound that greets my passive ear
Is the crisp snow-floor yielding to my tread :
Dumb seems the earth, and rifled of her bloom,
Like breathless beauty shrouded for the tomb.

Dear Heaven! it is a blessed thing to feel
My heart unwithered by the world, my mind
Wakeful as ever, and as glad to steal

Into the realms of wonder, unconfined,
As round me drops the drapery of night,
With the delicious dimness of a dream,
While the one herald-star, of restless beam,
Climbs, with the quiet moon, the ethereal height.
Winter is nature's sabbath time; and now
With all her energies within her breast,
She folds her matron garments round her brow,
Sits down in peace, and takes her holy rest:
For wave, wood, mountain, star, moon, cloud and sky,
In deep-adoring stillness prove that God is nigh.

J. C. PRINCE.

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