most valuable works to which genius has ever given existence. If the earliest impressions are of the greatest importance, because the most effective and the most enduring, how essential is it that the bias of the young mind should be towards virtue, honesty, industry, and humanity! There is no lesson in either which Dr. Watts has left untaught. Children lisp his verses long before they can read them-the moral fixes upon the mind through the imagination, and is retained for life. The "Divine Songs are neither too high nor what is less easy of attainment-too low for the comprehension of a child, and they tempt perusal and thought by the graces of easy rhyme. They are simple without being weak; and they reason without being argumentative; they are just of suflicient length to be committed to memory, without being long enough to become wearisome as a task. They are indeed the most perfect examples in our language of the achievement of that which a writer desires to achieve. We regard Dr. Watts, therefore, as one of the greatest benefactors of human kind; and may search in vain through the thousand tomes of our poets for so many golden verses as we find in these "Divine Songs for Children." LOVE ON A CROSS AND A THRONE. Now let my faith grow strong and rife, See where he languish'd on the cross; If I behold his bleeding heart, There love in floods of sorrow reigns, He triumphs o'er the killing smart, And buys my pleasure with his pains. Or if I climb th' eternal hills, Where the dear Conqueror sits enthron'd, Still in his heart compassion dwells, Near the memorials of his wound. How shall a pardon'd rebel show I hate the sins that cost thy blood. I hold no more commerce with hell, Stampt as a seal upon my heart. FALSE GREATNESS. MYLO, forbear to call him blest He swells amidst his wealthy store, He spreads the balance wide to hold And cheats the beam with loads of gold So might the plough-boy climb a tree, Alas! how vain their fancies be To think that shape their own! Thus mingled still with wealth and state, FEW HAPPY MATCHES. SAY, mighty Love, and teach my song, Whose yielding hearts and joining hands, Not the wild herd of nymphs and swains If there be bliss without design, Nor sordid souls of earthly mould, So two rich mountains of Peru Not the mad tribe that hell inspires And sheets of lightning dress the bed, Nor the dull pairs whose marble forms With osiers for their bands. Not minds of melancholy strain, As well may heavenly concerts spring Nor can the soft enchantments hold Nor let the cruel fetters bind Two kindred souls alone must meet, EARTH AND HEAVEN. HAST thou not seen, impatient boy, Pleasure must be dash'd with pain: And yet, with heedless haste, The thirsty boy repeats the taste, Nor hearkens to despair, but tries the bowl again. Earth has no unpolluted spring, From the curs'd soil some dangerous taint they bear; So roses grow on thorns, and honey wears a sting. |