Wilmington journal. [volume] (Wilmington, N.C.) 1844-1895, 1868-10-23

FIREWORKS.
Tonight there is a grand display of fire.
works, and the city is alive with an i'm.
mense throng OF people. Tho scene is en-.
ivened with music, and great good FEELING
and enthusiasm prevail.
A NORTH CAROLINA BooK-PoEMs Ey
THEo. Fl. HILL.-We are pleased at tho
fact that that gifted son of our State. Tbeo.
FL. Hill, Esq, whose poetic genius has
gained for him quite an extensive fame,
proposes issuing shortly from the press
compiled edition of his poems now in
the publishers hands. For this work he
desires subscribers, and first solicits sup
port at the hands Of his own fellow-cid
zens of North Carolina. The work will be
published in neat form at 81 80 per copy.
Over two hundred and fifty subscribers
have already been obtained in Raleigh
thus giving Mr.. Hill the strongest endorse
ment at home. Wilmington is asked to DO
her legitimate share towards bringing into
life that very rare thing, a North Caro-
lima book, the creature of the genius of one
of her own sons. Circulars can be found
at the stores of Messrs. J. D. Love and ?.
Heinsberger, where subscribers can leave
| their names.
In this connection we publish as most
appropriate Sunday reading, one of Mr..
Hills latest poems, which he has sent to a
friend in this city. We know it will be
read with pleasure and appreciation:
THE MOTHERS PRAYER.
BY THEo. HILL.
"But he answered and said, It il not meet to
take the chi!dren's bread and to cast il to dogs'
"And she said, Truth, Lord yet the dogs cat
OF the crumbs which fall from theis MASTER t.
be- "-ST MATT. XIV, IS, &c.
| Truth, Lord it is not meet
! That thou should'st give me bread;
Yet famished dogs, where chiljIel eat,
May on their crumbs be fed.
| I may not let Thee go
While have heart to pray;
Nor wilt Thou hear me pleading 50,
And cast me quite away
| They say that Thou canst save,
| And for mercy call:
| No crumbs to me, Thy children gave;
| But THOU art Lord OF all.
! Vexed by my sore distress,
"Send her away" they cry;
| Yet through the Inurmuring thcong | press,
| Low at Thy feet to lie!
| Rebuke has chilled my heart;
But Lord, how dare brook,
If homeward hopeless, depart,
| My Irenzied daughters look
fire burns in her brain,
And fiends torment her soul -
All other help, I've sought in vain;
Lord, make my daughter whoie!"
Prone on the earth she lay,
Clutching the Masters gown,
And turned her tortured face away
Fearing q darker froWn
! Then all grew still as death
! They who had gathered there,
| Like her, await, with bated breath,
The answer to the prayer.
A face divinely sweet
The HUMAN FACE DIVINE,
| Beams DER the suppiant at His feet
radiance benign.
voice. tender voice,
Replete with fearful grace,
Bids the poor sufferers heart rejoice
Ere she beholds His face!
| In loving accents He
| The woman's faith commcnds
| Even as thou wilt so let it be-"
The benediction ends.
Abashed His followers STOOD
Then reverently made way
For her of alien speech and blood
They had despised that day.
| And rugged hands were brushed
Ger eyes that seldom wept,
AS home that joyful mother rushed
| Where, 10 her daughter sl2Dt!f
How should this story cheer
| Sinner, no less than Saint,
To call on Him while He is near
To pray and never faint.
day, as yesterday the same,
| He needs the mourners cry;
! To seek-to save the lost he came
Fly-to His bosom fly!