As a friend, I had something to say respecting most of his building plans, and fully sympathized with the objects he had in view; one of the fruits of my appreciation was the following poem, which, although of little merit in itself, is perhaps worth preserving as a record of honourable deeds and well employed talents:
Wake, harp of Zion, silent long, Nor voiceless and unheard be thou While meetest theme of sacred song Awaits thy chorded numbers now!
Too seldom, 'mid the sounds of strife That rudely ring unwelcome here, Thy music soothes this fever'd life With breathings from a holier sphere.
The warrior, wading deep in crime, Desertless, lives in poets' lays; The statesman wants not stirring rhyme To cheer the chequer'd part he plays:
And Zion's harp, to whom alone, Soft-echoing, higher themes belong, Oh lend thy sweet aerial tone-- 'Tis meek-eyed Virtue claims the song.
Beyond the limits of the town A summer's ramble, may be seen A scattered suburb, newly grown, Rude huts, and ruder fields between.
Life's luxuries abound not there, Labour and hardship share the spot; Hope wrestles hard with frowning care, And lesser wants are heeded not.
Religion was neglected too-- 'Twas far to town--the poor are proud-- They could not boast a garb as new, And shunn'd to join the well-drest crowd.
No country church adorned the scene, In modest beauty smiling fair, Of mien so peaceful and serene, The poor man feels his home is there.
Oh England! with thy village chimes, Thy church-wed hamlets, scattered wide, The emigrant to other climes Remembers thee with grateful pride;
And owns that once at home again, With fonder love his heart would bless Each humble, lowly, haloëd fane That sanctifies thy loveliness.
But here, alas! the heart was wrung To see so wan, so drear a waste-- Life's thorns and briars rankly sprung, And peace and love, its flowers, displaced.
And weary seasons pass'd away, As time's fast ebbing tide roll'd by, To thousands rose no Sabbath-day, They lived--to suffer--sin--and die!
Then men of Christian spirit came, They saw the mournful scene with grief; To such it e'er hath been the same To know distress and give relief.
They told the tale, nor vainly told-- They won assistance far and wide; His heart were dull indeed and cold Who such petitioner denied.