But oh! may Heaven avert the fatal end, And Britain’s heart to juster counsels bend, Raise many a champion through the land to lead A growing host for poverty to plead, The sacred voice of conscience wake within, Forbid the fatal policy of sin, Leave the just laws to deal with factious hate, Calm down the public mind, and save the State. Pause, Britain, pause, ere yet advanced too far Thy hand lets slip the dogs of civil war, Ere yet the vultures hovering in the sky On the self-immolated quarry fly. So shall pure Faith’s long-hallowed altar stand! Still unprofaned by state-craft’s ruthless hand; So shall the threatened Auburn cease to weep, Peace be restored, and passion lulled to sleep; So shall the flood of Ultramontane pride, By justice checked, within its banks subside; So shall the Candle, which the Lord has lit, Revived and cherished, well its place befit, And through the time to come serenely bright Shine forth a beacon-flame of Gospel light. Immortal Light, that can’st alone control The brutal instincts of the savage soul, ’Tis thine to teach the murderous bands of strife The deep significance of human life, Teach the wild untaught Kerne who knows not God, The awful sanctions of HIS penal code; Teach Faith her hope and end in LOVE to read, The height and depth of every Christian’s Creed. ―――― THE DESERTED VILLAGE.