The boys with rapture see appear
The poney and the dappled mare;
Each moment now an hour they count,
And slash their whips and long to mount.
As with the boys his ride he takes,
He asks the history of the cakes.

Says Will," dear father, life is short,

So I resolv'd to make quick sport;

The cakes were all so nice and sweet,

I thought I'd have one jolly treat,
Why should I balk, said I, my taste?
I'll make at once a hearty feast.
So, snugly by myself I fed,

When every boy was gone to-bed;
I gorg'd them all, both paste and plum,
And did not waste a single crumb;
Indeed they made me, to my sorrow,
As sick as death upon the morrow;
This made me mourn my rich repast,
And wish I had not fed so fast."

Quoth Jack, "I was not such a dunce,
To eat my quontum up at once:
And tho' the boys all long'd to clutch 'em,
I would not let a creature touch 'em;
Nor tho' the whole were in my power,
Would I myself one cake devour;
Thanks to the use of keys and locks,
They're all now snug within my box;
The mischief is, by hoarding long,
They're grown so mouldy and so strong,

I find

I find they won't be fit to eat,
And I have lost my father's treat."

Well Tom," the anxious parent cries,
How did you manage?" Tom replies,
"I shunn'd each wide extreme to take,
To glut my maw, or hoard my cake;
I thought each day its wants would have,
And appetite again might crave;

Twelve school-days still my notches counted,
To twelve my father's cakes amounted;
So every day I took out one,

But never ate my cake alone;
With every needy boy I shar'd,
And more than half I always spar'd.
One ev'ry day 'twixt self and friend,
Has brought my dozen to an end;
My last remaining cake to-day
I would not touch, but gave away;
A boy was sick, and scarce could eat,
To him it prov'd a welcome treat:
Jack call'd me spendthrift, not to save,
Will dubb'd me fool because I gave;
But when our last day came I smil'd,
For Will's were gone, and Jack's were spoil'd;
Not hoarding much, nor eating fast,
I serv'd a needy friend at last."

These tales the Father's thoughts employ;
By these (said he) I know each boy:
Yet Jack, who hoarded what he had,
The world will call a frugal lad;

And selfish gormandising Will,

Will meet with friends and favourers still;
While moderate Tom, so wise and cool,
The mad and vain will deem a fool;
But I, his sober plan approve,
And Tom has gain'd his father's love."

APPLICATION.

So when our day of life is past,
And all are fairly judg'd at last,
The Miser and the Sensual find
How each misused the gifts assign'd;
While he who wisely spends and gives,
To the true ends of living lives;

'Tis self denying moderation

Gains the GREAT FATHER's approbation.

Z.

THE

DAY OF JUDGMENT;

CHR

OR THE

GRAND RECKONING.

HRISTIANS! profit by the warning
Which the word of God supplies;
Think upon that awful morning,
When the quick and dead shall rise,

Lo!

Lo! each country, every nation,
All the globe we now behold,
(Wrapt in dreadful conflagration)
Smoke and fire at once enfold!
See the works of art so curious,
Lofty cities, temples, towers!
See the raging flame so furious,
All the mighty mass devours!
You who doat on earthly treasures,
What dismay will seize your frame,
When the sum of all your pleasures
Crackles in the general flame?
Lo! the multitudes surrounding,
Whom the grave no more can keep;
Hark! the awful trumpet sounding!
Death has broke his leaden sleep.
All that in the tomb now slumber,
How at once they burst their chain!
See they rise, how vast their number!
All that liv'd shall live again.

Great and small together meeting,
Lo! the sea gives up her dead!
Then the sea itself retreating,

Lo! the heavens and earth are fled!

See the LORD of life descending,

Hear the dread ARCHANGEL's voice; See the dead on CHRIST attending; How the saints of God rejoice!

Myriads

Myriads at that voice shall gather,
"Take the kingdom long prepar'd,
"Come, ye blessed of my FATHER,
"Share my crown, my cross you shar'd."
O how different that dread sentence,
Which confirms the sinner's doom!
"You who died without repentance,
"Come to judgment, sinners come.
O! to these what wild despairing,
What astonishment of heart,
Agony past human bearing,
Will that dreadful call impart !
You who now profanely cherish
Unbelief and impious pride;
Unbelievers, see and perish,
CHRIST for you in vain has died.
You who to the world dissemble,
While you practice deeds of night,
Hypocrites, behold and tremble,
All these deeds are brought to light.
You, who each conviction stifling,
Waste your time, that sacred store,
Hear the Angel, cease your trifling,

Time," he cries, "shall be no more." Lost in ease, or drown'd in pleasure, "We've no time to think," you cry, But howe'er you waste the treasure, You must all find time to die,

You,