As you review each closing year,
May no grim phantoms there appear
Casting dark shadows in the scene,
Thy view and happiness between.
But in their stead may sweet content,
A consciousness of life well spent,--
A trusting heart to thee be given,
And last of all a crown in heav'n.
Human Thought
Oh, how deep and unfathomable is human thought. It descends into the
lowest depths of the ocean, and into the mines, caverns and inmost
recesses of the earth, or is borne aloft upon the soaring pinions of
imagination, to the vaulted, star-lit sky above our heads; we can
trace the azure canopy, and wander from star to star, or contemplate
the silvery moon, in all her full-orbed glory, or trace the golden
sun, as he runs his journey through the heavens, and hides behind the
crimson curtains of the west, in majestic splendor. And though the
body be confined to the restless, feverish couch of pain, thought
flies untrammelled through the circuit of the globe, far--far to the
frigid regions of the north, where almost eternal winter reigns, and
we view the hardy inhabitant of that sterile clime, wrapped in his
furs, drawn by the swift-footed reindeer, across the barren glebe.
But, sudden as the lightning's flash, thought wings us across
intervening space, to the sultry, arid plains of India, where seated
upon the huge elephant, the inhabitants screen themselves from the
burning rays of the vertical sun, and all nature seems fainting
beneath the oppressive heat; there the deluded mother tosses her
struggling infant into the serpentine Granges, and bowing before her
idol, thinks she has appeased her God; we at a glance visit Afric's
billowy strand, her vast sandy deserts, spotted here and there with
an oasis, where the toil-worn traveller stops to refresh himself; and
then turning to America--our own happy America, the land of freedom,
we there see thousands of Afric's sable sons groaning beneath the
galling bondage of slavery.
Pages:
241
242
243
244
245
246
247
248
249
250
251
252
253
254
255
256
257
258
259
260
261
262
263
264
265