Lynchburg Star

Miscellany.

[From a New Brunswick Paper.]

JACK FROST THE DOCTOR.

When an Almighty Sovereign God
Sent forth of late his chastening rod
When Philadelphia and New York City,
In deep distress, excited pity;
When black despair and sorrow keen
Almost in every face was seen,
When every aid from man proved vain,
And hundreds by disease were slain
When thousands forced were to roam,
In sorrow from their native home,
And many look'd on all as lost;
Then came the much loved Doctor Frost,
As messenger from Heaven sent
To heal the heart with sorrow rent.
This famous Doctor from the Pole
He heals the body, cheers the soul-
His magic power indeed is such,
He cures his patients with a touch.
Some Doctors, as most people tell,
Make patients sick, to get them well-
He ne'er was known to give emetic,
Or to administer cathartic,
This wond'rous Doctor of great skill,
Makes use of neither bark nor pill;
And yet you'll think it strange to say,
He cures his thousands in a day.
At his approach, by all 'tis said,
Pale sickness quickly hides its head:
And blooming health at once is seen
With rosy cheek, and brow serene.
'Tis true, for I will not dissemble,
He sometimes makes his patients tremble
But while they tremble they rejoice,
And make him welcome with one voice-
Unlike the Doctors of our day, I say.
When cures performed they'll have their pay
But he'll not take a single shilling
For all he asks is to be willing
To render thanks to God above,
For all his mercies, all his love.