OLD ENGLAND-MY COUNTRY! OLD ENGLAND-my country! The home of the brave, The birth-place of Freedom, Of fetters-the grave The hearts of thy sons, Like the waves of the sea, Encircle thee round With the love of the free. Old England-my country! The sound of thy name While the echoes of heaven Are waiting to tell The praises of millions, Who love thee as well. Oh! who can be silent, When honour should speak, Or who but with praises The silence would break?— He's a slave, who refuses To echo the song, Or a knave, who abuses The use of his tongue. But the heart of the true man The patriot-glows, And the lips it uncloses Unwilling to close, Till the tale of her glory Is told to a world, And the flag of her story And such be the spirit, That ever inspires The souls of her children, The hearts of her sires ; And England-my country, For ever shall be The pride of the mighty, Then resound the "hurrah” From the hill to the plain, Till the valley re-echo The chorus again "Hurrah for Old England!”— The cry, as it rolls, Is the shout of our bosoms, The song of our souls! THE TRUTH. THE TRUTH-the Truth!-The glorious Truth! The Truth, that thrilled our infant ears, The Truth, that led our childhood's feet The message from a Mercy seat The manual of the love of God. The Truth, that cheers our manhood's prime With hopes of joy, and views of bliss; Revealing destinies sublime, To beckon from a world like this. And when the setting sun of life That Truth shall light us through the gloom Succeeding time's expiring even, Discov'ring footprints in the tomb, Of Him who trod that way to heaven, |