I seek divine simplicity in him
Who handles things divine, and all besides,
Through learned with labor, and though much admired
By curious eyes and judgments ill informed
To me is odious
Such should still be affectionate in look
And tender in address, as well becomes
A messenger of Grace to guilty man

Cowper

I.

How strange the various scenes through which we pass
In our life's journey—onward to the grave!
Sometimes all smiles and sunshine; then alas,
Dark clouds hang o'er us, and God's help we crave.
Weak in adversity—when prosperous brave,
We often act a very foolish part;
Forsaking Mercies which our Father gave.
To follow our devices, till we smart
With self-inflicted pangs sent through our inmost heart.

II.

So I, who many times have sung; of duty,
Too oft am led to slight my own, and feel
God's chastening hand, until I see the beauty
Of all His dealings with me for my weal.
And yet the hand that wounds is sure
The injured part; designing all in love;
And in such manner that He can't conceal
The Father's kindly heart. 'Tis thus we prove
His earnest wish to have us always look Above.

III.

Some months have fled since I this task began,
Bringing to neat completion its first part.
Awhile my thoughts in easy measure ran,
Which much beguiled an often saddened heart.
And made me lay my pleasing task aside.
Now, as I write not for an earthly mart,
I have a wish that my poor rhymes may bide
The test of Scripture Truth by whomsoe'er applied.

IV.

I feel a sacred pleasure warm my breast
As I resume my simple tale of love:
A tale which is not in rich language dressed,
I fain would look for help from God above,
To leave a record of my principles;
And seek the guidance of the Heavenly Dove,
Whose influence the darkest doubt dispels,
And fills with purest peace the heart wherein he dwells.

V.

This glorious truth was never more displayed
Than in dear GOODWORTH'S every day's employ;
Or in the fields or in the woodland shade,
His love of duty yielded constant joy;
Sweet Heaven-born Peace naught could in him destroy.
For why? He had in God most steadfast trust,
And things which do so many minds annoy
Led him to curb all anger, pride and lust,
While in each fresh distress he knew that God was just.

VI.

He also knew that he is merciful
And wish in all he does unto mankind.
If this we see not we are very dull,
And to our soul's best interests truly blind.
This to perceive some minds are too refined
By false philosophy and learning vain.
No wonder then if they are left behind
The humble child of God who with disdain
Views all these worldly pleasures that he might obtain.

VII.

Just so with GOODWORTH; though he had in schools
Learned much of what is termed deep classic lore,
He quite preferred to train his life by rules
Contained in Scripture; and it grieved him sore
To see some Christians—this all should deplore—
Neglect Christ's precepts to procure their ends.
But seeing this, he never once forbore
To speak plain truth and reap what oft attends
An upright course—ev'n scorn; but this his walk commends.

VIII.

In his snug home he evermore obtained
What flowed from love—a holy reverence.
Of harsh commands his children ne'er complained;
Wrangling and discord both were banished thence.
His much loved wife possessed some rare good sense,
And seconded his efforts for their good.
She never sought in earnest or pretence
To lower him before his flesh and blood;
While to increase their comforts she did all she could.

IX.

Nor was it strange if such a home as this
Made him content his leisure time to spend
Within his family circle; for such bliss
Comes not to all, who seek to make an end
Of troubles that a single life attend,
By entering soon into the marriage state.
If such folks would but strict attention lend
To Bible teaching, they might share the fate
Of these, our friends, on whom true pleasure seemed to wait.

X.

Their constant mutual love became the theme
With all who knew them in that Settlement;
Domestic bliss was proved no idle dream,
For in true happiness their lives were spent.
To labor hard they always were content,
Regarding Paul's advice and his example:
It was their thought they were but thither sent
To furnish proof which all might own was ample
That they loved Jesus' laws, on which too many trample.

XI.

Let none imagine they e'er built on this
A hope of endless happiness in heaven.
They deemed it right all men should bow submiss
To His Authority, whose life was given
For sinners vile; that they might not be driven
Away from Him to dwell in endless woe.
This oft has cheered them on as they have striven
To lead their fellow men God's truth to know;
And every day its power did their behavior show.

XII.

The Spring is past and Summer's heat has fled.
United diligence hath well supplied
A plenteous store of more than needful bread,
For they have some choice luxuries beside,
By which means different tastes were gratified.
The snug ten acre field with wheat is sown,
And looks most promising. Should naught betide
To hurt their present prospects this alone
Will well repay them for the hardships they have known.

XIII.

And now the necessary steps are taken
To shield the cattle from dread Winter's rage.
Necessity—stern master—does awaken
Their full inventive powers, and they engage
With ready ardor pens and sheds to wage;
And in the absence of commodious barn,
They stack with care their straw, and thus are sage
Compared with many whom no dangers warn,
And who, though often suffering, will not stoop to learn.

XIV.

A good supply of hard wood they obtain,
To serve them through the season drawing near,
When rude King Frost will hold tyrranic reign,
Making the country desolate and drear.
But in those woods they have small cause for fear
From Winter's howling, fearful, bitter blasts,
For they have fuel in abundance near,
And the huge wood file constant comfort casts
Into the snug log house long as the season lasts.

XV.

All these arrangements made, the Pastor felt
He had more leisure now to walk abroad;
And in the gorgeous woods he often knelt
In fervent prayer before his Father, God.
For miles around his feet have pressed the sod
Which ne'er was turned by plow up to the sun—
Wilds that the foot of white man seldom trod,
And where no clearance had as yet begun:
Where he could sit and watch some charming brooklet run.

XVI.

Or now and then would wander near the side
Of that majestic Lake, whose isles, tree clad
And decked in Autumn's tints, appeared to ride
With all their splendors quite elate and glad
On Huron's silvery surface. Such scenes had
A powerful charm to one of GOODWORTH'S mind.
They would indeed, if aught had made him sad,
Often dispel his gloom and leave behind
Precious remembrances of an enduring kind.

XVII.

This was no marvel for his soul was filled
With true poetic fire; and oft sweet song
Of purest praise spontaneously has welled
From his enraptured heart. Then he would long
To leave a world where misery and wrong
So much prevail, but yet content to stay
And sere his master, his poor saints among;
Would try to save those led from God astray,
That he might aid Christ's cause while it is called "To-day."

XVIII.

Amidst such scenery he would sometimes take
In haste his pencil, that he might note down
Such thought as gushing from their fountain make
The truest poetry that man has known.
A specimen or two will now be shown
Ere I proceed with my unlettered tale.
If I mistake not they have all been drawn
From Nature's store, and if so should not fail
To claim our deep respect while they our minds regale.