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THE RISING MOON.

THE moon is up!

How calm and slow,

She wheels above the hill!

The weary winds forget to blow,
And all the world lies still.

The way-worn travellers with delight, The rising brightness see, Revealing all the paths and plains, And gilding every tree.

So once on Judah's evening hills,
The heavenly lustre spread,
The gospel sounded from the blaze,
And shepherds gazed with dread.

And still that light upon the world
Its guiding splendour throws:
Bright in the opening hours of life,
But brighter at the close.

The waning moon, in time, shall fail
To walk the midnight skies,

But God hath given us a light,
A fire that never dies.

THE LOST DOVE WELCOMED HOME.

WELCOME Sweet wanderer back again
To thy deserted nest,

Why didst thou spread thy silken wing,
And leave thy home of rest?

Why didst thou leave me weeping, sad
To think where thou couldst be,
Have I not always been, my Dove,
Gentle and kind to thee ?

Each coming morn I've brought thee food,
And water, fresh and clear,

And well repaid my care hath been,

Thy plaintive notes to hear.

And many a lesson have I learnt

My gentle one of thee,

How sisters should with brothers dwell

In love and unity.

It is a good and pleasant thing

The holy Psalmist said

'Tis like the precious ointment poured

On Aaron's sacred head.

Thou dost remind me, too, sweet bird,
Of Noah's faithful dove,

That o'er the wide spread waters bore
The branch of peace and love,

Before the beauteous arch of God,
Speaking good will to man,
By his Almighty power, was thrown
Across the Heaven's blue span.

Yes glorious was that rainbow gleam,
But, oh! still brighter far,
The glory that in after years,

Shone forth in Bethlehem's star.

On God! within my youthful breast,
Let thy blest Spirit shine,
Teach me the Saviour's dying love,
And make me ever thine.

EARLY RISING AND PRAYER.

SERVE God before the world; let him not go
Until thou hast a blessing; then resign
The whole unto him, and remember who
Prevail'd by wrestling ere the sun did sh.ne:
Pour oil upon the stones, weep for thy sin,
Then journey on, and have an eye to heav'n.

VAUGHAN.

THE ENTREATY OF RUTH.

WHY would'st thou banish from thy side.
One, who can ne'er forget thy care ?
Who, in thy house would fain abide,
And all thy weary wanderings share.

Say'st thou alas! no home is thine ?
Then where the wild blast tears the tree,
Where forests frown, or brambles twine,
My Mother! I will dwell with thee.
Yes, yes, o'er mountain, stream, and hill,
Close by thy side my feet shall stand;
The same cold spring our cups shall fill,
The same lone cavern be our bed.
This hand shall strew thy thorny road,
With soft affection's filial flowers:
One God-one people-one abode-
One grave-one burial-shall be ours!

THE RESURRECTION.

THE darkest clouds give lightnings birth, The pearl is formed in ocean's bed; The germ unperishing in earth,

Springs from its grave as from the dead.

So shall the relics of the just,

In weakness sown, be raised in power,
The precious seed shall leave the dust,
A glorious and immortal flower.

J. MONTGOMERY.

THE VILLAGE PASTOR.

UNSKILFUL he to fawn, or seek for power,
By doctrines fashioned to the varying hour;
Far other aims his heart had learned to prize,
More bent to raise the wretched than to rise.
In sacred duty prompt at sorrow's call,

He watched and wept, he prayed and felt for all.
And as a bird each fond endearment tries,
To tempt her new-fledged offspring to the skies;
He tried each art, reproved each dull delay,
Allured to brighter worlds and led the way.
At church with meek and unaffected grace,
His looks adorned the venerable place:
Truth from his lips prevailed with double sway,
And fools, who came to scoff, remained to pray.
The service past, around the pious man,
With ready zeal, each honest rustic ran;
E'en children followed with endearing wile,
And plucked his gown, to share the good man's
smile.

His ready smile a parent's warmth expressed, Their welfare pleased him, and their cares distressed.

To them his heart, his love, his griefs were given, But all his serious thoughts had rest in heaven. As some tall cliff, that lifts its awful form, Swells from the vale, and midway leaves the storm,

Though round its breast the rolling clouds are spread

Eternal sunshine settles on its head.

K

GOLDSMITH.

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