Imperial tyrants curse thy name,
And tremble at thy glance;

And turbaned slaves of vice and shame
Reel back at thy advance.

The fetters that the mind enslave
Melt at thy touch divine;
Thy radiant glory gilds the grave,
And marks its moral thine.

No earth-born, crawling thing art thou,
No breathing form of clay;

Death's pallid seal ne'er stamped thy brow
To mark thee for decay.

Thy name is blazoned on God's throne;
Thy banner is the sky,

On which for ages stars have shone,
And hymned thy praise on high.

Celestial Truth! dispel all gloom,
And in thy glory reign,

That guilty earth may smile and bloom

A Paradise again.

Mercy.

LO! in chariot brig

O! Mercy, in her chariot bright,

Rides o'er the earth to save,

And lead from moral gloom to light
The poor benighted slave.

Love smiles on her celestial crest;

Love is her charioteer;

Love reigns and triumphs in her breast, Inspired with holy fear.

The Olive decks her radiant brow,
Faith consecrates her shrine,
Where all the angel virtues bow
To bless her name divine.

In melting accents mild she speaks,
And pleads in strains sublime;
But wears no weapon foul, that reeks
With deeds of scarlet crime.

On may she ride, from shore to shore,

Till she in triumph wave

Her fair, unsullied banner o'er

The bleeding, fettered slave.

And may her kingdom still extend,
Till tyrant flags are furled,

And Freedom chains asunder rend
That bind the suppliant world.

4

Faith.

HERE is a cure for every wound,

THERE

A balm for every sorrow;

And clouds that gather thick to-day

May pass away to-morrow.

The heart is often desolate,

Deep wrung and very dreary;

Yet Faith cheers to their journey's end The wretched and the weary.

Man's mind, like some frail bark at sea,
May wildly drift storm-shattered,
And cherished hopes, like autumn leaves,
Lie withered and wide scattered.
But Faith amid Life's howling blasts
Stands firm, like rocks unshaken,
And guides to realms where all is peace
The lonely and forsaken.

On Death's cold, bleak, and dreary coast,
Faith's golden lamps are lighted;
They brightly burn and never dim

Where mortals are benighted.
O, ye care-worn, and ye weary,
By Fortune tempest-driven,
The only peaceful anchorage

Is in the Bay of Heaven.