BY MISS E. J. ANDREWS.
I ask not for the glittering wreath,
Of India's sparkling diamonds rare,
To deck my brow, while oft beneath,
There throbs a heart with heaviest care.
I ask not for the gilded chain,
Of perishing and worthless gold,
To clasp my neck, while oft in vain
The heart's best sympathies unfold.
Oh! give me not the worthless dust,
For which vain, anxious mortals toil,
To treasure up where moth and rust,
Doth soon corrupt the hoarded pile.
I covet not the gay attire,
In which vain beauty oft appears,
Oft that which wondering crowds admire,
Needeth far more their heartfelt tears.
But there's an ornament I crave;—
To grant, vain world, it is not thine,
It floateth not o'er yon proud wave,
Nor yields it me earth's richest mine.
Oh, may it be a guileless heart!
In heaven's own sight of priceless worth!
Where nought corrupting e'er hath part,
Pure, as the source which gave it birth.
A spirit meek and pure within;
May this, alone, my life adorn,
Unsullied by the touch of sin,
Though subject to the proud world's scorn.
This ornament, O God of Love!
'Tis Thine, and Thine alone, to give;
Oh, may I its rich beauties prove,
And in its full possession, live!
Bethel, Conn., 1846.