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Years, years


I stood at her foot,
The bud had grown blossom,

The blossom was fruit.
A dignified mother,

Her infant she bore;
And looked, I thought, fairer

Than ever before.

I saw her once more,

'Twas the day that she died;
Heaven's light was around her,

And Christ at her side:
No wishes to move her,

No fears to appal :
O then, I felt, then

She was fairest of all !



“Blessed is the bride whom the sun shines on ;
Blessed is the corpse which the rain rains on."

I saw thee young and beautiful,

I saw thee rich and gay,
In the first blush of womanhood,

Upon thy wedding-day:
The church-bells rang,
And the little children sang,

“ Flowers, flowers, kiss her feet;
Sweets to the sweet !
The winter's past, the rains are gone;
Blessed is the bride whom the sun shines on.”

I saw thee

poor and desolate, I saw thee fade

In broken-hearted widowhood,

Before thy locks were grey:
The death-bell rang,
And the little children

sang“Lilies, dress her winding-sheet; Sweets to the sweet; The summer's past, the sunshine gone; Blessed is the corpse which the rain rains on.” " Blessed is the bride whom the sun shines on; Blessed is the corpse which the rain rains on."



Precious as time is, nothing is more squandered away, nothing which we waste so much of, not even our money, which, in this extravagant age, I am sensible is thrown away in the most trifling

I was much struck the other day on seeing a coachman on his box pull out a book from his pocket as soon as his master was set down at his visit, and begin reading very attentively. Whatever were his studies, he lost no time in them; and I must confess I thought his example worthy of imitation.


I do not here mean to recommend a dry, formal, methodical way of spending time; but in general to make such use of every part of it, that we may live as long as we can; for how very

short would some folks's lives be, if we were to deduct all the blanks from them which idleness has made; and how much longer would they appear than they really are, if we could fill those hours up with useful employment! How different would our lives

appear on a review of them, were it our wish to make them as valuable to others, and beneficial to ourselves, as might be! The shortest life would then appear long, when every day could be distinguished and recalled; or at least, when altogether so much had been done by us, that nothing but a constant econo

nomy of our time could have enabled us to get through such a variety of agreeable as well as useful employments. We should look upon our time as a small field, to which we are confined for a certain, or, I would rather say, for an uncertain time. In this our field, which has been given us by our best Friend, we should take care to cultivate every thing that the ground is capable of producing; every spot should be sown with the seed suitable to its soil. Our spade should be continually going : we should dig for new treasures, find out new sources of improvement, and, when found, should labour to bring them to perfection; we should hough down every weed, not suffering it to take root. These will keep us employed the great part of every day, and where the soil is most fertile, there will be most cause for our hough. Here we should sow no. thing but good seed, nothing but what will be sure soon to yield us rich increase.

We should vary our work also with the seasons: in our spring, be putting in our crops and our plants; in our summer, weeding and pruning them; in our autumn, reaping and receiving the produce of our labour; and in our winter, endeavouring to keep alive what we have found most valuable, and reflecting with pleasure on all our labours.

In this our little field of time, we have a part of it for pleasure-ground too. Here we should enter with caution, always taking care to keep that walk smooth which leads back again to our necessary and useful works, that, while we indulge ourselves with a little relaxation in it, we may never lose sight of, or a relish for, returning to the other parts of our field again. And even to this our pleasure-ground we should carry our implements, and keep it free from every noxious weed, filling it only with those delightful fruits and flowers, which, when dead, give us no disagreeable sensations.

One piece of advice more let me add, and that is, so to dispose our ground that it may afford us an agreeable prospect into that beautiful country into which our Friend will one day or other remove us, and there present us with an estate suitable to the improvement made in the small tract now lent us.

I have now done with my little allegory: but suppose we were just to stop a little and take a review of the years which are past.

Let us ask ourselves what satisfaction they have brought us? what that was which has yielded us any? and whether it will always give us the same? These questions fairly put, and candidly answered, we shall be able to form schemes for our future satisfaction, either by pursuing our old methods, or adopting new ones; above all, remembering that no day need pass without yielding us some self-satisfaction, and affording us some agreeable reflections. This would be indeed to have the art of economy in time; and Idleness, that king of mischief, that preventer of innumerable pleasures to ourselves and others, would be for ever banished into exile. A little recollection at night upon the employments of the past day, and a little forecast in the morning towards those of the ensuing one, would save many a sorrowful reflection, and give many a joyful one. In short, let us remember,

The spirit walks of every day deceased,
And smiles an angel, or a fury frowns.

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