The Caledonian. [volume] (St. Johnsbury, Vt.) 1837-1867, 1840-03-17
gH @ RAJ and Eseli gd0Ws.
THE HOUR oF EATH.

The banquet hath its hour,
Its feversh hour of mirih, and song, and wine;
Then comes day tor grief 8 Overwhelming
power,
A time for softer tears;--but all nro thine.
Youth, and the opening rose,
May look like things too glorious to decay;
And smile ut thee;-but thou mono of those
That wait the ripen'd bloom to seize their prey,
Leaves have their time 10 fall,
And flowers to wither at the north winds breath,
And stars to sot;-bnt all,
Thou hast nil seasons for thine own-oiI, Death.
We know when moons shall wanc,
When summer birds from far, shall cross the sea;
When autuu,n's hue shall touch the golden
grain;
But who shall teach MS ,chcn to lool; for thoe
Is it when spring first gale
Comes forth To whisper where tho violets lie?
Is it when roses in our path grow pale?
They have 0nG season-nU are ours to die
Thou art where pillows foam;
Thou art where music mcts upon the air;
Thou around peaceful home,
And the world calls us forth and thou art there!
Thou art where friend meets friend,
Beneath the shadow of The elm TO rest;
Thou art where foe meets foe, and trumpets
rend
Tho skcs-and swords beat down tho rrincely
crest
Leaves have their time 10 fall,
And flowers to wi,her at the north winds breath,
And stars to et;--but all
Thou hast all seasons Tor thino own--oh, Death !
SUGGESTED RY, AND ANSWER TO THE FoRV DING.
MRS. C. BARON WILSON.
True, al we know must die, -
Though none tell tn exact appointed hour;
Nor should it cost tho virtuous henrt a sigh,
Whether death crush the oak, or nip the opening
flower.
The Christian is prepared;
Though others trelnble at tho hour of gloom;
His soul is always ready his guard,
His lamps are lighted 'gainst the bridegroom come
1t matters not the time,
When we shall end orr pilgrimage below;
Whether in youth bright morn, or manhoods
Or when the frost of age has whitend DER our
brow.
The child that blossom'd fair,
(Fond source ofu'any hope, and many praycr)
Why murmur, that it sleeps where all at last must
rest
Snachd from world of woe
(Where they nnst suffer most who longest dwellD
1t vanish j like fake of early snow,
That mels into the sea, pure from heaven it foil!
The youth whose pulse beats high
l.
Why should we shed a tear, or breathe sigh,
That the bright goal is gain'd-tho prize TINS carly
won?
Unstaind by many n crime,
Which to maturer years nigh. owe their birth;
In summers earliest bloom in mornings prime,
How blest are they who quit this chequcrd scene
of earth
And shall no tear be paid,
To her tho new made bride tho envied fair;
On whose fond heart Deaths whitening hand il
laid,
Checking each pulse Of bliss IIymen had wakon' {
there?
Joy scattcrd roses, while
The happy sumberor sank to calm rcpose,
In Deaths embrace;-oer love withdrew hi
smile,
And 'scap'd those chilling bIighs the heart tot
often knows
Yes-aH we know must de-
Since none tell tn exact appointed hour,
Why need it cost the virtuous heart sigh,
Whether death crush the oak, or nip the oponn!
flower.
Stir up the gift Of Col which is in thee
2d-Tim.-l-6;-2d Lam.-7--18,-28.
How can this he done? Answer: BY look
ing as well upon thy own poverty and WANTS, a
upon The riches of grace which are in Christ 70
thee, and so drawing near to God through hi,
in faith But ii is not enough to 10 this ono
for all, or now and then only; i, is TO be our da
tly hui