On this occasion, as on many others, my emotions shaped themselves in a poetical form. The two following pieces were written for the Church newspaper, of which I was then the printer, in partnership with the Messrs. Rowsell:—
HYMN FOR EASTER.
"CHRIST IS RISEN."[14]
"Christ is risen from the dead and become the first fruits of them that slept. "For since by man came death; by man came also the resurrection of the dead. "For as in Adam all die; even so in Christ shall all be made alive."
Christ is risen! Jesu lives; He lives His faithful ones to bless; The grave to life its victim gives— Our grief is changed to joyfulness. The sleeping Saints, whom Israel slew, Waking, shall list the joyful sound; He—their first fruits—doth live anew, Hell hath a mighty conqueror found. Paschal offering! spotless Lamb! For us was heard thy plaintive cry; For us, in agony and shame, Thy blood's sweet incense soar'd on high. By erring man came woe—the grave— The ground accurs'd—the blighted tree— Jesus, as man, for ransom gave Himself, from death to set us free. Christ is risen! saints, rejoice! Your hymns of praise enraptured pour— Ye heavenly angels, lend your voice— Jesus shall reign for evermore!
Hallelujah! Amen.
THE SINNER'S COMPLAINT AND CONSOLATION.
Oh for a conscience free from sin! Oh for a breast all pure within— A soul that, seraph winged, might fly 'Mid heav'n's full blaze unshrinkingly, And bask in rays of wisdom, bright From His own throne of life and light. Peace, pining spirit! know'st thou not that Jesus died for thee— For thee alone His last sigh breathed upon th' accursed tree; For thee His Omnipresence chain'd within a mortal "clod"— And bore thy guilt, to be as well thy Saviour as thy God: Aye, suffered anguish more—far more—than thou canst e'en conceive, Thy sins to cleanse—thy self-earnt condemnation to relieve. And did He suffer so for me? Did He endure upon the tree A living death—a mortal's woe, With pangs that mortals cannot know! Oh triumph won most wofully! My Saviour died for me—for me! And have I basely wish'd to make this wondrous off'ring vain; Shall love so vast, be unrepaid by grateful love again? Oh! true affection never chafes at obligation's chain, But hugs with joy the gracious yoke whose guidance is its gain; And such the Saviour's ardent love—His suff'ring patience—these Most unlike human bonds, are cancell'd by their own increase. Rejoice, my soul! though sin be thine, Thy refuge seek in grace divine: And mark His Word—more joy shall be In heav'n for sinners such as thee Repenting, than can e'er be shown For scores whom guilt hath never known.
In explanation of my having become, in 1840, printer of the Church newspaper, I must go back to the date of Lord Sydenham's residence in Toronto. The Loyalist party, as stated already, became grievously disgusted with the iron grasp which that nobleman fastened upon each and every person in the remotest degree under government control. Not only the high officers of the Crown, such as the Provincial Treasurer and Secretary, the Executive Councillors, the Attorney-General and the Sheriff, but also the editors of newspapers publishing the government advertisements, in Toronto and elsewhere, were dictated to, as to what measures they should oppose, and what support. It was "my government,"—"my policy"—not "the policy of my administration," before which they were required to bow down and blindly worship. There were, however, still men in Toronto independent enough to refuse to stoop to the dust; and they met together and taking up the Toronto Herald as their mouth-piece, subscribed sufficient funds for the payment of a competent editor, in the person of George Anthony Barber, English Master of Upper Canada College, now chiefly remembered as the introducer and fosterer of the manly game of cricket in Toronto. He was an eloquent and polished writer, and created for the paper a wide reputation as a conservative journal.