Volume 2 — From St. James's Magazine. 'TIS BETTER LATE THAN NEVER.

Has sorrow cast thy spirit down, And crush'd thy hopes Elysian? Be not disheartened by her frown. Nor heedless of thy mission. But go forth gaily on thy way— The bonds of care dissever, And pluck the roses while you may; 'Tis better late than never! Doth love consume with pensive woe Thy heart whence hope has fleeted— As sunbeams melt away the snow They never could have heated? Come, wreathe thy brow with laurel-leaf— Be wise as well as clever, And learn a nobler lore than grief; 'Tis better late than never! For life's a stand-up fight, I ween. With poverty and labor, And many a hero there has been Who never drew a sabre. So buckle bravely to the strife. How perilous soever. And win some glory for thy life; 'Tis better late than never! Or hast thou, worn in folly's wars, Forgot the land that bloometh Beyond the cedars and the stars. Where sorrow never cometh? Oh, do not for a phantom fly From Paradise for ever, But turn thy trusting eyes on high; 'Tis better late than never! GREAT LORD OF HEAVEN! CREATION'S KING! Whose vineyard open lies, Thou deemest not a worthless thing Man's tardy sacrifice; Still sanctify the work we've wrought, And every fond endeavor. This blessed creed thyself hast taught— 'TIS BETTER LATE THAN NEVER!