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ON THE SIGNS OF THE TIMES.

A Shaking throughout the nations;
A hurrying to and fro;
Some—in the loftiest Stations,
Levell'd among the low!
A Mob—whose brief opinion
Can Altar, and Throne o'er-awe;
Its Will—supreme dominion;
Its Word—the only Law!
Wealth—to beggary humbled;
Rank—of its honours shorn;
Power—from eminence tumbled;
Titles—trod on with scorn.
Union—rent asunder
By Anarchy's angry mood;—
And more to heighten wonder,
All this to be hailed as Good!
Such signs of the times we live in
Almost to Despair might lead;
Make Hope her allegiance give in,
And Faith forego her Creed!

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But this would on Madness border,
And Confidence cast away;
For Heaven's first Law is Order!
And Earth must Heaven obey.
He who this world created,
From Chaos' formless Void!
Will not by Man be mated,
Or see His work destroyed!
Trust in Him! Earth's Sons and Daughters!
While He reigns, and rules above,
His path is in deepest waters!
And His dearest Name is Love!

A POSTSCRIPT;

FOR OUR OWN ISLAND QUEEN!

Though Europe's teeming Continent,
In Signs so ominous, present
Danger beyond dissembling;
Thank Heaven! our happier little Isle,
With cause for anxious thought, the while,
May still “rejoice with trembling.”

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Victoria, thron'd in heads and hearts
To which true Loyalty imparts
A feeling of Devotion,
May safely, truthfully confide
In hearts and heads, so proved, and tried,
With grateful, proud emotion.
Throughout Her Realm, each Sabbath Day,
When Britons meet to praise, and pray,
From Faith not prone to falter
For Her ascends the Voice of Prayer;
And, oftener still, She claims Her share,
Round many a Household Altar!
What more could England's Queen desire,
To be—as by “a wall of fire”
Protected, and defended,
Than when Her Country thus delights
To mix her with its holiest rites?
And deem—what fondly it unites
Identified! and blended!
BERNARD BARTON.