"Tis infinite alone can light the morn!

'Tis infinite alone can cheer the heart!

Then why this infinite forget

Trifles have our care,

And but to catch a bubble we will spend a life

-Ah should this infinite,

This GOD, an instant sleep

-The tottering worlds would fall

And down to chaos drag

A horrible confusion ! ! .

SIN FORGIVEN.

SWEET are the visions of the eve,

That float in Fancy's eye;

And sweet the hour when troubles leave,

When dark afflictions fly;

But sweeter still the joy that flows,

From sin forgot, forgiv'n,

Yes sweet the peace the sinner knows,
Whose hopes are rais'd to Heaven.

Oh may the lot of him be mine,
Whose sins are all forgiven,

For whom the joys delightful shine
The peace that flows from Heav'n.

PASSION OR RAGE.

"TIS when the storm of passion's past,

And reason mounts again her seat,

We mourn the fatal wrecking blast

But ah-too late-we cant retreat.

Our friends we wound-although their love,

Is held more dear to us than life :

Through sweets of happiness we rove,
And slay them in the warring strife.

Ah Passion! Demons' blackest power 'Tis thou when Happiness is high,

And hope expanding, in one hour,

Bring'st death or desolation nigh:

Thou seest the cup anticipation brings,

Where pleasure, tho' in length'ning prospect, smiles,

Thy bosom rankles forth its fellest strings,

Thou dashest it away-then seekest Hell's defiles.

Think then the mortal that thou leav'st behind, With all thy consequences o'er him hung-Remorse her scorpions round his heart entwines,

And bitter groans are burning on his tongue.

Then curb, Oh man! this dark usurper's pow'r, When first within, he direfully assails,

Tho' milder than the insect of an hour,

He would beguile you with bewitching tales.

More forms than Proteus can his art assume; More lies than Rumour's Centum ora tell-He'll couch at first beneath a borrow'd plume That he may lead your captive souls to ill.

He'll come with Pride perhaps and hide his snakes,

Pride neatly varnish'd o'er as worldly fame

Some chance is found-your happiness he breaks

And Passion rises with his horr gleam.

Then with the love of worldly wealth he'll come, (These his companions all are plac'd in front)

The aiding fiend some broken right assumes,

And calls on Passion to defend his ground.

Next, Avarice aside, Ambition stalks
And Passion, fir'd to love, with him unites,
Together forth for ill the monsters walk,
Ambition leads and Passion for him fights.

"Tis in the drunkard's den-the viler haunt,

This demon rankles- there he sits

When drunkenness and modern pleasure rage,

He rushes to the tumult-mid it pours

His poison, sheds his flames

And, the consolidated desolation finisk'd,

Back he skulks and hides from view!