I knelt in prayer—if ever I

Have tasted prayer's prevailing power, "Twas when my supplicating cry Appealed for pity in that hour.

I prayed that he might see how pure
The law's demand, how vile his guilt;
Oh, mercy! must this soul endure

Its pangs, when blood for souls was spilt

This gem that might be ever bright
Where coronals in beauty shine,
Be locked in depths, whose only light
Gleams palely from the wrath divine !

Rather may he, new born, be clad

In robes by Sovereign Love brought down; And stand where angels worship, glad With golden harp and starry crown.

I asked again, if he could now

Yield all to Him who claims the whole;
And at that cross where men must bow
Or perish, cast his trembling soul—

And on this bed of sorrow say,

"Here, Lord! to be for ever thine, A lost one gives himself away!".

He died, he died, and made no sign!

THE QUAKERESS.

"Every Quakeress is a lily."

CITY OF PENN! thy streets

Right-angled, marble banks, mint, heaving domes, And water-works, and Schuylkill, yielding sweets, And pleasant homes,

And sober denizens,

I love. - Thy merchants, lawyers, reckoned wise And, more than all, thy beauteous citizens

Who own bright eyes,

I love ;-confessedly

As fair as any famous Broadway boasts,

Or belles of Washington, though fair they be,

Or Boston toasts.

As stately Junos, seem

Thy queenly females, who, on Chesnut street,
Display, like flitting mockings of a dream,

Their pretty feet.

How charming the array

They make, when the tired wing of evening droops!

How dazzling, when, in face of envious day,

They pass in troops!

Loveliest of short or tall,

And most bewitching in her modest dress,

Is she, who wins all hearts, above them all—
The Quakeress.

When almost blinded

By gorgeous beauty, on the promenade,
How soothing 'tis to meet-hast thou not minded? —
A Quaker maid,

In her becoming dress,

With bonnet, or of drab, or purest white;

Fragrant as lily of the wilderness,

As sweet to sight!

A company of such

I've seen in spring time, where thy Arch street runs,
Gathering to meeting. They resembled much
The Shining Ones

Glittering along the way

In crowds :-'
- This simile is borrowed, I
Would rather liken them to flowers in May,
Early and shy. —

The Quakeress is fair,

And all adorned in her simplicity;

Candid as Heaven made her, every where

Lovely to me.

And yet her proper throne

Is home; there shines the Quakeress,
Good sense, good humor, kindness, all her own,
Are there to bless.

Oh, were her guileless speech, And open artlessness, but copied, then Would other towns, like thee, bland lessons teach, City of PENN!

TO THE MONUMENT,

Ho! granite pile on Bunker's sod,

Why standest thou unfinished thus, —
A mockery where our fathers trod,

A Babel, crumbling 'neath the curse?

Ho! thou that men began to build,
Not counting first the painful cost;
In whom the proverb is fulfilled

Of care and cash by folly lost;

I mind me when this soil for thee
Was broken by the eager spade,
That day the son of liberty

-

Thy corner stone with shoutings laid.

He said that on the martyrs' bones

Thy soaring shaft should proudly stand, And tell forever on its stones

The fame and story of our land.

Then eloquence was here—the throng
Stood breathless on this sacred hill,
As rose to God the noble song,
Expressive of a people's will.

A change has come -no man may bind
Thy massy blocks on hallowed ground,
Who thinks with shame, how lofty mind,
In firmer grasp, hath SLAVERY bound!

This scorpion thought keeps back the gold Which should, to plant thy top stone, pay, That human blood and bones are sold;

And shouldst thou prate of freedom? NAY!

A hissing only wouldst thou be,

A by-word of our country's shame;

And every syllable on thee

Engraved, would falsehood still proclaim.

Not thus defy the men of might
Who on this hill-top glory won;
Not thus affront the pilgrim's sight
Upon this more than Marathon.