O Christ! thou friend of men! When thou shalt come again, Through Truth’s new birth, May all the fruits of peace Be found in rich increase Upon the earth. Then shall the song of sweet accord, Sung by the heavenly hosts of yore, To hail the coming of their Lord, Sound through the ages evermore. PETER McGUIRE; OR, NATURE AND GRACE. IT has always been thought a most critical case, When a man was possessed of more Nature than Grace; For Theology teaches that man from the first Was a sinner by Nature, and justly accurst; And “Salvation by Grace” was the wonderful plan, Which God had invented to save erring man. ’Twas the only atonement he knew how to make, To annul the effects of his own sad mistake. Now this was the doctrine of good Parson Brown, Who preached, not long since, in a small country town. He was zealous, and earnest, and could so excel In describing the tortures of sinners in Hell, That a famous revival commenced in the place, And hundreds of souls found “Salvation by Grace;” But he felt that he had not attained his desire, Till he had converted one Peter McGuire. This man was a blacksmith, frank, fearless and bold, With great brawny sinews like Vulcan of old; He had little respect for what ministers preach, And sometimes was very profane in his speech. His opinions were founded in clear common sense, And he spoke as he thought, though he oft gave offense; But however wanting, in whole or in part, He was sound, and all right, when you came to his heart. One day the good parson, with pious intent, To the smithy of Peter most hopefully went; And there, while the hammer industriously swung, He preached, and he prayed, and exhorted, and sung, And warned, and entreated poor Peter to fly From the pit of destruction before he should die; And to wash himself clean from the world’s sinful strife, In the Blood of the Lamb, and the River of Life. Well, and what would you now be inclined to expect Was the probable issue and likely effect? Why, he swore “like a Pirate,” and what do you think? From a little black bottle took something to drink! And he said, “I’ll not mention the Blood of the Lamb, But as for that River it aren’t worth a----;” Then pausing--as if to restrain his rude force-- He quietly added, “a mill-dam, of course.” Quick out of the smithy the minister fled, As if a big bomb-shell had burst near his head; And as he continued to haste on his way, He was too much excited to sing or to pray; But he thought how that some were elected by Grace, As heirs of the kingdom--made sure of their place-- While others were doomed to the pains of Hell-*fire, And if e’er there was _one_ such, ’twas Peter McGuire.