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Be kind to the young!-in thy youth's merry day
Thou, too, hast been thoughtless and vain;
Oh, plant not a thorn in a flower-strown way
That may never be trodden again :
Enough of thorn yet in the pathway of life,
If they travel it long, they will find ;

But dim not bright youth with the shadow of strife;
Be kind to the youthful—be kind.

Be kind to the aged-not long at thy side

Hath the travel-worn pilgrim to stay;
The frail thread of life will be shortly untied;
He is passing-soon passing away.

Oh, let him not deem that when summoned from earth,
He will leave but cold feelings behind;

Give him still a warm nook of thy heart and thy hearth; Be kind to the aged-be kind.

Be kind to the simple-although the full light

Of genius to thee may be given ;

Yet look not with scorn, in the pride of thy might,

On a brother less favoured by heaven.

He is not to be blamed if the God-given ray

Hath but faintly illumined his mind;

Thine own may be quenched by a cloud on the way;
Be kind to the simple-be kind.

Be kind to the erring-full many a heart

Unkindness hath driven astray;

But the breath of reproach may but sharpen the smart

That first sent it out of the way.

Ye would not insult with a gibe or a sneer,
The maimed, or the halt, or the blind;
But the ills of the spirit are far more severe;
Be kind to thy fellow-be kind,

THE WASTE OF WAR.

Give me the gold that war has cost,
Before this peace-expanding day;
The wasted skill, the labour lost-
The mental treasure thrown away;

And I will buy each rood of soil
In every yet discovered land;
Where hunters roam, where peasants toil,
Where many-peopled cities stand.

I'll clothe each shivering wretch on earth,
In needful; nay, in brave attire ;

Vesture befitting banquet mirth,

Which kings might envy and admire.

ANON.

In every vale, on every plain,

A school shall glad the gazer's sight; Where every poor man's child may gain Pure knowledge, free as air and light.

I'll build asylums for the poor,

By age or ailment made forlorn ; And none shall thrust them from the door, Or sting with looks, and words of scorn. I'll link each alien hemisphere;

Help honest men to conquer wrong; Art, Science, Labour, nerve and cheerReward the Poet for his song.

In every crowded town shall rise
Halls academic, amply graced;
Where Ignorance may soon be wise,

And coarseness learn both art and taste. To every province shall belong

Collegiate structures, and not fewFill'd with a truth-exploring throng, And teachers of the good and true.

In

every

free and peopled clime A vast Walhalla hall shall stand; A marble edifice sublime,

For the illustrious of the land;

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A Pantheon for the truly great,
The wise, beneficent, and just;
A place of wide and lofty state

To honour or to hold their dust.

A temple to attract and teach
Shall lift its spire on every hill,
Where pious men shall feel and preach
Peace, mercy, tolerance, good-will;
Music of bells on Sabbath-days

Round the whole earth shall gladly rise;
And one great Christian song of praise,
Stream sweetly upward to the skies!

Household Words.

LABOUR'S THANKSGIVING HYMN.

THAT I must work I thank thee, God!
I know that hardship, toil, and pain,
Like rigorous winter in the sod,

Which doth mature the hardy grain,
Call forth in man his noblest powers:
Therefore I hold my head erect,
And amid life's severest hours,

Stand stedfast in my self-respect.

I thank thee, God, that I must toil!
Yon ermined slave, of lineage high,
The game-law lord, who owns the soil,
Is not a man so free as I!

He wears the fetter of his clan;

Wealth, birth, and rank, have hedged him in ;

I heed but this-that I am man,

And to the great of mind akin.

Thank God, that like the mountain oak,
My lot is with the storms of life;
Strength grows from out the tempest's shock,
And patience in the daily strife.
The hardened hand, the furrowed brow,
Degrade not, howe'er sloth may deem;
'Tis this degrades—to cringe, and bow,
And ape the vice we disesteem.

Thank God for toil, for hardships, whence
Come courage, patience, hardihood;
And for that sad experience

Which leaves our bosoms flesh and blood;
Which leaves us tears for others' woe.
Brother in toil, respect thyself,
And let thy stedfast virtues show
That man is nobler far than pelf.

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