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by day, nor the moon by night. The Lord shall preserve thee from all evil; he shall preserve thy soul. The Lord shall preserve thy going out, and thy coming in, from this time forth, and even forevermore."

(q) Numbers vi. 23–26. “Speak unto Aaron, and unto his sons, saying, On this wise ye shall bless the children of Israel, saying unto them, The Lord bless thee, and keep thee. The Lord make his face shine upon thee, and be gracious unto thee. The Lord lift up his countenance upon thee, and give thee peace."



February, 1827.

AND thou art happier now

In the free, wide fields of the boundless air,

With thy wing on the wind, and thy thought without care, And thy home on the forest bough.

Even so with the lost and dear;

She is soaring in regions of light above;

She's at home with the blessed in their bowers of love;

And who would recall her here?


WILLIAM RUFUS GRAY BATES, son of Joshua Bates, Esq., of the house of Baring, Brothers, & Co., London, was born in Boston, July 2, 1815. When three years old, he accompanied his mother to France, where his father was then residing. This poem was written on the occasion of his embarking.

Lo! how impatiently upon the tide

The proud ship tosses, eager to be free!
Her flag streams wildly, and her fluttering sails
Pant to be on their flight. A few hours more,
And she will move in stately grandeur on,
Cleaving her path majestic through the flood,
As if she were a goddess of the deep.

O, 'tis a thought sublime, that man can force
A path upon the waste, can find a way
Where all is trackless, and compel the winds-
Those freest agents of almighty power -

To lend their untamed wings, and bear him on
To distant climes. Thou, William, still art young,
And dost not see the wonder. Thou wilt tread
The buoyant deck, and look upon the flood,
Unconscious of the high sublimity,

As 'twere a common thing-thy soul unawed,
Thy childish sports unchecked; while thinking man
Shrinks back into himself, himself so mean

'Mid things so vast,

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and, rapt in deepest awe,

Bends to the might of that mysterious Power,
Who holds the waters in his hand, and guides
Th' ungovernable winds. 'Tis not in man
To look unmoved upon that heaving waste,
Which, from horizon to horizon spread,
Meets the o'erarching heavens on every side,
Blending their hues in distant faintness there.
'Tis wonderful! and yet, my boy, just such
Is life. Life is a sea as fathomless,
As wide, as terrible, and yet sometimes
As calm and beautiful. The light of heaven
Smiles on it, and 'tis decked with every hue
Of glory and of joy. Anon dark clouds
Arise, contending winds of fate go forth,
And Hope sits weeping o'er a general wreck.
And thou must sail upon this sea, a long,
Eventful voyage.
The wise may suffer wreck,

The foolish must.

O, then, be early wise;

Learn from the mariner his skilful art

To ride upon the waves, and catch the breeze,
And dare the threatening storm, and trace a path,
'Mid countless dangers, to the destined port,
Unerringly secure. O, learn from him

To station quick-eyed Prudence at the helm,
To guard thyself from Passion's sudden blasts,
And make Religion thy magnetic guide,
Which, though it trembles as it lowly lies,
Points to the light that changes not, in heaven.
Farewell! Heaven smile propitious on thy course,

And favoring breezes waft thee to the arms

Of love paternal. Yes, and more than this

Blest be thy passage o'er the changing sea
Of life; the clouds be few that intercept
The light of joy; the waves roll gently on
Beneath thy bark of hope, and bear thee safe
To meet in peace thine other Father


*The young person to whom these lines were addressed was accidentally killed by the discharge of his fowling-piece, at Elton, in the county of Huntingdon, (England,) in 1834, at the age of nineteen years. His improvement and virtues had secured the love and esteem of his friends, and filled the hearts of his parents with fond hopes of his future success and honor.

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