A PSALM OF LIFE.

New Zealander, Volume 6, Issue 453, 17 August 1850, Page 4

A PSALM OF LIFE.

[BY PFOFt.SnR Y. H. LONGFEU-OW, OV AMLRICA ")

fin T,m) I' mcc « itU tlic veque&i. ' f seme of our -eaders wo unbl.,. ti.e whole o' tl'v beautiful iiitle Poeiti, fom " rh Dr. bv.iw.at quoted a fey s* .nz.is at >\t conclusion of his lecture at the Mechanic!.' Institute on Monday evening.] Tell me not in mournful numbeis, Life is but an empty dieam ! For the soul is dead that ekinbeis, And things le not what they seem. Life is real ! life 3s earnest I And the grave is not its gaol ; Dust thou art, to dust retuinest, Was not mitten of the soul. Not enjoyment, and not soirow, Is our destined end or way, But to act, that each to-moirow Find us farther than to-day. Art is Ion?:, and time is fleeting, And our heails, though stout and brave, Still like muffled drums aye beating Funeral marches to the giave. In the world's broad field of battle, In the bivouac of life, Be not lii.c dumb, driven cattle ! Be a hero in the strife ! Trust no Future, howe'er pleasant I Let the dead Patt buiy its dead ! Act! — act in the living Present, Heart within, and God o'er head. Lives of gieat men all remind us We can make our lives, sublime, And, departing, leave behind us Footsteps on the sands of time ; Footsteps, that peihaps another, Sailing o'er life's solemn main, A forlorn and shipwrecked brother, Seeing, shill take heait again. Let us, then, be up and doing, "With a heait lor any fate ; Still achieving, still pursuing, Learn to labour and to wait.