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The New Zealand Evangelist

Poetry

page 255

Poetry.

The Paradox.

How strange is the course the Christian must steer!
How perplexed is the path he must tread!
The hope of his happiness rises from fear,
And his life he receives from the Dead.

His fairest pretentions must wholly be waived,
And his best resolutions be crossed;
Nor can he expect to be perfectly saved
Till he finds himself utterly lost.

When all this is done, and his conscience secured
Of the total remission of sins;
When his pardon is signed, and his peace is procured,
From that moment the conflict begins.

Home.
There is a land of every land the pride,
Beloved by heaven o'er all the world beside; Where brighter suns dispense serener light,
And milder moons emparadise the night;
A land of beauty, virtue, valour, truth,
Time-tutored age, and love-exalted youth:
The wandering mariner, whose eye explores The wealthiest isles, the most enchanting shores,
Views not a realm so bountiful and fair,
Nor breathes the spirit of a purer air;
In every clime the magnet of his soul,
Touched by remembrance, trembles to that pole;
For in this land of Heaven's peculiar grace,
The heritage of nature's noblest race,
There is a spot of earth supremely blest,
A dearer, sweeter spot than all the rest,
page 256 Where man, ereation's tyrant casts aside
His sword and sceptre, pageantry and pride,
While in his softened looks benignly blend
The sire, the son, the husband, brother, friend;
Here woman reigns; the mother, daughter, wife,
Strew with fresh flowers the narrow way of life;
In the soft heaven of her delightful eye,
An angel-guard of loves and graces lie;
Around her knees domestic duties meet, And fireside pleasures gambol at her feet.
Where shall that land, that spot of earth be found?
Art thou a man? a patriot? look around;
Lo, thou shalt find, howe'er thy footsteps roam,
That land thy country, and that spotthy home.