ON MY NEW-BORN SON.

When first I heard thine infant voice, How did my beating heart rejoice To think the hour of peril past, Thou and thy mother safe at last; And anxious fear thus giv’n place To beaming joy, at thy sweet face, To view a mother smile on thee, And list thy cry with ecstacy, While thousand joys unknown before Swell at her breast, and beat the more. My boy! those words come like a spell; Who does not love that sound full well? What father hears but feels its sway, Or turns to th’ innocent to play, And pat its dimpled cheek the while, And cast a fond endearing smile. My boy! what can I hope for thee, Shouldst thou be spared, ah! spared to me? A parent’s wish might hope each stage Of rugged life’s dark pilgrimage O’erstrewn with flowers, to cheer the way, In place of wilds that lead astray. Thy little bark’s advent’rous sail, Oh! may it meet no adverse gale— No treach’rous calm around it play, But Providence direct its sway! But should thy path with thorns o’erspread, Or tempests gather o’er thy head, Then, oh! my child, may grace be giv’n To seek the fostering care of Heav’n; To “Jacob’s God” for succour flee, Who shall, my child, deliver thee!