His pretensions in this department were humble, yet many of his productions, thrown off hastily, no doubt, during brief respites from severer labors, possess no little merit.

A few specimens will not be uninteresting to the reader.
LIFE OF JOHN QUINCY ADAMS.

237 The following stanzas are from a hymn by Mr.Adams for the celebration of the 4th of July, 1831, at Quincy, Mass.:-- "Sing to the Lord a song of praise; Assemble, ye who love his name; Let congregated millions raise Triumphant glory's loud acclaim.
From earth's remotest regions come; Come, greet your Maker, and your King; With harp, with timbrel, and with drum, His praise let hill and valley sing.
* * * * * "Go forth in arms; Jehovah reigns; Their graves let foul oppressors find; Bind all their sceptred kings in chains; Their peers with iron fetters bind.
Then to the Lord shall praise ascend; Then all mankind, with one accord, And freedom's voice, till time shall end, In pealing anthems, praise the Lord." The lines which follow were inscribed to the sundial under the window of the hall of the House of Representatives, at Washington:-- "Thou silent herald of Time's silent flight! Say, couldst thou speak, what warning voice were thine?
Shade, who canst only show how others shine! Dark, sullen witness of resplendent light In day's broad glare, and when the noontide bright Of laughing fortune sheds the ray divine, Thy ready favors cheer us--but decline The clouds of morning and the gloom of night.
Yet are thy counsels faithful, just and wise; They bid seize the moments as they pass-- Snatch the retrieveless sunbeam as it flies, Nor lose one sand of life's revolving glass-- Aspiring still, with energy sublime, By virtuous deeds to give eternity to Time." It is seldom that lines more pure and beautiful can be found, than the following on the death of children:-- "Sure, to the mansions of the blest When infant innocence ascends, Some angel brighter than the rest The spotless spirit's flight attends.
"On wings of ecstacy they rise, Beyond where worlds material roll, Till some fair sister of the skies Receives the unpolluted soul.
"There at the Almighty Father's hand, Nearest the throne of living light, The choirs of infant seraphs stand, And dazzling shine, where all are bright.
"The inextinguishable beam, With dust united at our birth, Sheds a more dim, discolored gleam, The more it lingers upon earth: "Closed is the dark abode of clay, The stream of glory faintly burns, Nor unobscured the lucid ray To its own native fount returns: "But when the Lord of mortal breath Decrees his bounty to resume, And points the silent shaft of death, Which speeds an infant to the tomb, "No passion fierce, no low desire, Has quenched the radiance of the flame; Back to its God the living fire Returns, unsullied, as it came." The heart which could turn aside from the stern conflicts of the political world, and utter sentiments so chaste and tender, must have been the residence of the sweetest and noblest emotions of man.
Having taken final leave, as he believed, of the duties of public life, and retired to the beloved shades of Quincy, it was the desire and intention of Mr.Adams to devote the remainder of his days to the peaceful pursuits of literature.

It had long been his purpose, whenever opportunity should offer, to write a history of the life and times of his venerated father, "the elder Adams." His heart was fixed on this design, and some introductory labors had been commenced.

But an overruling Providence had a widely different work in preparation for him.
If Mr.Adams had been permitted to follow the bent of his own feelings at that time--if he had continued in the retirement he had so anxiously sought as a rest from the toils of half a century--the brightest page of his wonderful history would have remained forever unwritten.