The Liverpool Standard and General Commercial Advertiser.
Liverpool, Merseyside, England, 1842-08-30 00:00:00

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THE CHRISTIAN WARFARE AND TRIUMPH.

There is .a warfare man is doomed to wage
'Gainst direful foes,—a multitudinous host,
Malignant, subtle, fierce, implacable,
'Gainst odds, how fearful ! principalities,
And heaven-born powers, in number numberless,
And in their nature, and the scale of being,
Far, far above the earth-born creature, man :
And he, their chief, all but omnipotent,
And seems übiquitous,—roaming the earth
Invisible, on murderous deeds intent,
Like to a lion greedy of his prey,
Or like a ravening wolf, that darkly prowls
With stealtly pace, or leaps into the fold,
Or tiger fell, that sports with agony,
Cruel as death, insatiate as the grave,
In whom all fiendish hell-born passions rage,
But most revenge and hate, the twin-born brood
Of mad despair, and deathless as their sire.
Yet man, tho' fallen (and therefore weak and frail)
Fallen, like his foes too, from his first estate,
And with innumerous evils compassed round,
And inbred foes as numerous,—traitors foul,—
Fall'n, yet renewed with more than mortal strength,
An earthen vessel filled with power divine,—
A mortal strengthened with the strength of God,—
He fights the goodly fight of faith, till death,
Comes off victorious, more than conqueror
O'er all his enemies,—then lays aside
His helmet, shield, and spear (his warfare o'er)
His borrowed panoply of heavenly proof,
And, wearied out with conflict, sighs for rest,
Whilst Death, a kind and friendly servitor,
With gentle hand strips off his mortal weeds,
That be may sleep in peace a little while,
In Hades' dark domain, until the dawn
Of that blest day, when, at the trumpet's sound,
Whose blast shall wake the dead, he shall awake
And rise again, renewed with god-like strength,
And put on robes of immortality,
And on his head a pure celestial crown,
A royal diadem ; the victor's prize ;
And hail the prophet's glorious boast fulfilled,
" 0 grave I where is thy victory? 0 death !
Where is thv sting?" and be henceforth, for aye,
A king and priest of God.—the high compeer
Of holy angels, if not more exalt,
As heir of God, joint-heir with Christ, his Lord,
To share his glorious reign,—his mundane reign
Of righteousness, and peace, and joy, and love :
When God, Immanuel, shall dwell with man,
And man with God,—the blest inhabitant
Of that fair city, new Jerusalem,
Doomed to descend from God,—from heaven to earth,
To earth renewed, and paradise restored,—
A kingdom incorruptible and pure,
That fadeth not away,—blest heritage !
Prepared before the world's foundation was,
Won from the foul usurper's tyrant thrall
By Him, ordained to bruise the serpent's head,
The woman's seed, Messiah, David's son,
And David's Lord ; and who, on David's throne,
Shall reign the King of kings, and Lord of lords,
Wonderful, Counsellor, the mighty God,
The Prince of Peace, whose blest millennial reign
Shall be the foretaste, earnest, pledge, and seal,
Of man's eternal heritage,—the dawn
That ushers in the Everlasting age
Of heavenly joy, and beatific bliss ;
When (all his enemies subdued) the Son
Shall render up the kingdom unto God,
That God the Father may be all in all.
Douglas, May 14, 1842.

G. H. W.

A MOTHER'S EVENING THOUGHTS.

BY MRS. SIGOURNEY.

0, homefelt joys, so dear, so sweet,
My clear wood fire beside,
My baby creeping at my feet,
Who oft with glance of pride
Looks back elate and pleased to show
How fast his tiny limbs can go.
And closely seated by my side,
My little daughter fair,
Whose doll upon her knee doth ride,
Essays a matron's care;
While many a lesson, half severe,
With kisses mixed, must Dolly hear.
There lie my volumes closed and still,
Those chosen friends of old ;
My pen, regardless of my will,
Lurks in its bronzed hold;
High joys they gave ; but not so dear
As those that gild my fireside here.
Where harp and viol carol sweet,
'Mid youth's unfolding hours,
And gladness wings the dancer's feet,
That seem to tread on flowers,
I've shared the cup ; it sparkled clear ;
'Twas foam ; the precious draught is here.
I've trod the lofty halls, where dwell
The noblest of our land ;
And met, though humble was my cell,
Warm smile and greeting hand ;
Yet doth she feel a thrill more blest,
Who lulls her infant on her breast.
Strong words of praise, such words as gird
To high ambition's deed,
The impulse of my mind have stirred,
Though still unearned their meed ;
But what of these? they fleet away,
Like mist before affection's ray.
Though many a priceless gem of bliss
Hath made my pathway fair,
Yet I have known no joy like this,
A mother's nursing care,
To mark, when stars of midnight shine,
My infant's bright eye fixed on mine.
Might woman win earth's richest rose,
Yet miss that wild-flower zest,
Which by the lowly cradle grows,
'Twere but a loss at best !
Pass on, 0 world, in all thy pride,
l've made my choice, and here abide.
Even she, who shines with beauty's ray,
By fashion's throng rarest,
If from that pomp she turn away,
And build her shelter'd nest,
And hoard the jewels of the heart,
Like Mary finds the better part.
—American Paper.