I now will endeavor, while fresh in my mind,

My Sabbath School Class to portray;

The theme's furnished for me, I've only to find

Colors to blend, their forms to display.

And first on the canvass we'll Adeline place,

With her full and expressive dark eye;

Decision of purpose is stamped on that face,

And good scholarship too we descry.

Next in order comes Alice, with bright sunny smile,

That does one's heart good to behold;

May the sorrows of life ne'er that young spirit blight,

Nor that heart be less cheerful when old.

But who's this that we see, with that mild pensive air,

And a look so expressively kind?

It is Ann, gentle Ann, before whom we pass by,

We will add--'t would be useless in any to try

Disposition more lovely to find.

The next is a bright noble face we espy,

'Tis a boy of ten years we shall find;

There's a spice of the rogue in that merry young eye,

With good sense and good nature combined.

It's young master Alpheus--we never have found

One more punctual at school hour than he;

He's now but a lad, yet who knows when a man,

But a Judge in our land he may be.

Next comes little Moggy, our dear little Moggy,

But before she is brought out to view,

We'll new colors select, add fresh tints to the whole,

And spread all on our pallet anew.

And now she appears in her own proper size,

Her cheeks colored by nature's warm glow;

With her full lustrous and speaking black eyes,

And rich ringlets that grace her young brow.

Walter's the last on the painting we see,

Little Walter, the youngest of all;

Look! he's repeating his lesson just now,

Mark the expression on that infant brow,

He's a wonder, for scholar so small.

But there's one in this grouping we look for in vain,

Whose image we often recall;

How mournfully sweet is the sound of thy name,

Dear Elbridge, the loved one of all.

Thou wert called in the freshness of morning away,

By him who all things doeth well;

The rest for brief periods are suffered to stay,

How long, we may none of us tell.

May the Holy Book studied in this Sabbath School,

Be more precious than silver or gold;

Be its doctrines received, and its precepts obeyed,

And rich treasures it still will unfold.

And when one by one we shall all pass away,

To me, oh! my Father, be given

The joy that no heart upon earth can conceive,

To meet all in the kingdom of Heaven.

I here engage

Upon this page

A picture to portray,

Of two of an age

Yet neither a sage,

But right honest hearts have they.

Each loves to play

And have his own way,

Yet I’m happy to say

They quarrel, if ever, but seldom.

Though competent quite

To maintain their own right,

And even to fight,

Yet peace to their bosom is welcome.

Both go to school,

And learn by rule

That in neither a dunce we may find;

Both read and spell

And like it well;

Thus with pleasure is profit combined.

One’s eyes are black,

The other’s blue;

They both have honest hearts and true,

And love each other dearly:

One’s father, is brother

To the other one’s mother,

So cousins german are they most clearly;

Each has a father,

And each has a mother,

And both do dearly love him;

But neither a sister,

And neither a brother,

To play with, or to plague him.

And here I propose,

Ere I come to a close,

A little advice to give;

To which if they heed,

They’ll be better indeed,

And happier as long as they live.

Be sure to mind

Your parents kind,

And do nothing to vex or tease them;

But through each day

Heed what they say,

And strive to obey and please them.

Take not in vain

God’s holy name,

Do not work,

Do not play

On God’s holy day,

Nor from church stay away;

Always bear it in mind

To be gentle and kind,

And friends you will find,

And hearts to you bind,

I am sure I may venture to say.

And when you’re men,

Who sees you then

I hope in you models will see,

Of good and great,

In Church and State,

Whose lips with your lives agree.

Mary and Lily—how sweet are those names,

Allied as they are to my heart and my home;

Recalling with freshness the days that are past,

Yielding buds of sweet promise for days yet to come.

Links are these names to the chain that hath bound

In fetters my heart, to which still they lay claim;

Loved ones and lovely, still close by me found,

Years past, and time present, whose names are the same.

Enshrined in this bosom, is living one now,

Still youthful and truthful, and talented too,

Though years have elapsed since she passed from our view;

E’en in Summer midst roses in beauty and bloom,

She faded away, and was borne to the tomb.

When writing to you, friend, a subject I’d find

In which there’s both pleasure and profit combined,

And