Oh! deem ye not them sufferers alone Whom poverty consumes, or cares oppress, Who mourn o’er health departed, hopes o’erthrown, Or—severed from a parent’s fond caress— Find the world changed into a wilderness; As deep the desolation of a mind (With all to cheer it, and with all to bless) That, to its own self-fostered gloom resigned, Rejects the happiness God bade it seek and find. My parents, faithful soldiers of the Cross, Had o’er successive offspring closed the tomb, And—ere my infant heart could know its loss— They too had sunk beneath the mortal doom,— My life, in sorrow passed, commenced in gloom. Yet friends were left; the patriarch of our line For my sake would a parent’s cares resume, And his mild consort, then in life’s decline, As she had watched my father’s youth would watch o’er mine. With tenderness did they their charge fulfil, In the retirement of a peaceful spot; But ah! not theirs the strength to curb the will, To train Christ’s soldier for a trying lot. Offences gently chidden—and forgot, The wavering denial, weak delay, And threat—by punishment succeeded not, Marred in the morn the promise of the day, The Christian child’s first lesson should be to _obey_. Cruel, misjudging tenderness! how soon The plant by weakness nursed bore fruit in woe! The branch which love with gentle hand might prune, Reserved to fall ’neath God’s chastising blow! Can they the toils of warfare undergo Whose childhood knows no wish ungratified? Oh! check the first advances of the foe, Stay at the source the quickly-swelling tide,— From reason’s dawn must thou for good or ill decide. Time fleeted by,—I was a child no more, But with my growth, alas! the evil grew. I loved creation’s wonders to explore, But on the world within ne’er fixed my view. Eager the paths of science to pursue, By praise encouraged, and by pride impelled, The charmèd task each day would I renew, And, while my bosom with vainglory swelled, Measured myself by those I deemed that I excelled. And was I happy? no, the unbridled mind May soar too freely through the fields of air, In its own liberty a bondage find; My spirits were not bound by earthly care, No loss had I to weep, no frowns to bear. My own enjoyment was my single aim, I sought it upon earth, nor found it there, Satiety and disappointment came,— “Oh, that I were a man to win the meed of fame!” I longed for something lofty—undefined— A kindred soul to mingle with my own, A destiny more worthy of a mind Now amidst uncongenial spirits thrown. By friends surrounded—yet I stood alone: Self was the gilded idol I adored; Had I Christ’s strength and my own weakness known, Soon had that idol felt the gospel sword, Low levelled in the dust before my conquering Lord!