The Illinois Free Trader And Lasalle County Commercial Advertiser

From the N. Y. New Era.

THE MECHANIC'S SATURDAY NIGHT
On! sweet is the home of the toil worn Mechanic,
When labor is hush'd in the stillness of night:
When the hum of commotion, disaster and panic
Is still as the stars in their orbits of light;
But sweeter by far is the neat little mansion,
When o'erflowing boards of his industry speak;
When the sweat covered wages by wildest expansion,
Replenish his stores at the close of the week.
With plenty all smiling in natural splendor—
With products of Nature, delicious and sweet.
And the choicest of viands his earnings can render,
All clustering high in the lowly retreat.
How rich is the banquet—how great the profusion;
How happy the man when his laborings cease;
When his efforts are yielding the greatest diffusion,
Of harmony, happiness, pleasure and peace.
Oh! bright is the hearth of the workman at even,
And kindly the feelings his bosom must know,
When his generous heart in its fulness hath given
The bread he has earned by the sweat of his brow,
And how sweet is the scene of the family of pleasure—
The holy affections they fondly retain;
When he clasps to his breast his own loving treasure,
And fondles his little ones over again.
Ye spirits of mercy look down on his dwelling,
And guard his abode in the midst of alarm:
When the surges of poverty frightful are swelling,
Or frowns o'er his cottage adversity's storm.
Oh! come like a pilot of truth on the ocean,
And guide his lone bark to the haven he'd seek:
And render his life in his country's devotion,
As sweet as his home at the close of the week.