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Between the mysteries of death and life

Thou standest, loving, guiding,—not explaining; We ask, and Thou art silent-yet we gaze,

And our charmed hearts forget their drear complaining! No crushing fate-no stony destiny ! O God revealed in Christ, we rest in Thee ! The many waves of thought, the mighty tides,

The ground-swell that rolls up from other lands,
From far of worlds, from dim eternal shores,

Whose echo dashes on life's wave-worn strands,-
This vague dark tumult of the inner sea
Grows calm, Almighty, when we trust in Thee !

MRS. H. B. STOWE.-Adap.


Courage, brother! do not stumble,

Though thy path is dark as night;
There's a star to guide the humble-

Trust in God and do the right.
Let the road be long and dreary,

And its ending out of sight;
Foot it bravely-strong or weary,

Trust in God and do the right.
Perish “policy" and cunning,

Perish all that fears the light;
Whether losing, whether winning,

Trust in God and do the right.
Trust no party, church, or faction;

Trust no “ leaders” in the fight;
But in every word and action

Trust in God and do the right.
Trust no forms of guilty passion,

Fiends can look like angels bright:
Trust no custom, school, or fashion,

Trust in God and do the right.
Some will hate thee, some will love thee,

Some will flatter, some will slight;
Cease from man, and look above thee,

Trust in God and do the right.
Unfailing rule for our safe guiding,

For true peace and inward light;
A star upon our path abiding,


Be every faith established, Lord ! in truth.
Let all who preach the word, live by the word,
In moderate 'estate; and in Thy church,
May orders be distinguished, not by wealth,
But by love and power of winning souls.
And we entreat Thee, that all men whom Thou
Hast gifted with great minds may love Thee well,
And in Thy service their vast powers employ.
Have mercy, Lord, on all—for all have sinned
The best in Thy sight are but vanity.
May peace, and industry, and commerce, join
Into one, all nations of this vast globe,
Making all trials and all blessings common :
That all mankind may form one brotherhood,
And love and serve each other. May the hour
Soon come when all false gods, false creeds, false prophets,
Deceive no more-that all hearts henceforth may be
The pure abode of God, the heritage
Of Christ,--another Paradise on earth.

Adapted from FESTUS.


Knowest thou not the wondrous lyre?

Its strings extend from earth to heaven,
And ever more the angels seven
With glowing fingers tipped in fire,
Draw from the chords celestial tones,
That peal in harmonies through all the starry zones.
An angel with a pensive face

Sits at the key-note evermore;

Not sad, as if a pang she bore,
But radiant with supernal grace :-
Her name is Sorrow; when she sings
The wondrous Lyre responds in all its golden strings.
The second breathes in harmonies;

A rainbow is her diadem,

And on her breast she wears a gem
That trickled from Contrition's eyes :-
Her name is Sympathy; her tears,
Falling upon the Lyre, make music in the spheres.
The third is beautiful as she;

Unfading flowers her brow adorn,

And from her smile a ray is born
That looks into Eternity :-
Her name is Hope; to hear her voice
Belted Orion sings, and all the stars rejoice.

The fourth, with eyes of earnest ken,

Surveys the boundless universe;

While her ecstatic lips rehearse
The promises of God to men:-
Her name is Faith; her mighty chord
Reverberates, through space, the glories of the Lord.

The fifth is robed in spotless white;

And from the beating of her heart,

Such heavenly coruscations start,
As clothe the universe with light:-
Her name is Love; when she preludes,
The constellations throb in all their multitudes.

The sixth inhales perpetual Morn:

For, through the bright Infinitude,

She sees, beyond the present Good, The Better destined to be born :Her name is Aspiration; ever She sings the might of Will, the beauty of Endeavour.

Crown and completion of the seven

Rapt Adoration sits alone;

She wakes the Lyre's divinest tone,
It touches Earth, it dwells in heaven;
All life and nature join her hymn:
Man, and the rolling worlds, and choirs of cherubim.

Know'st thou that lyre? If through thy soul

The immortal music never ran,
Thou art but outwardly a man;
Thou art not pure—thou art not whole
A faculty within thee sleeps
Death like, ensepultured, in dim unfathomed deeps.

Immortal spirit, hear and soar !

The angels wave their golden wings,

And strike the seven celestial strings,
To give thee joy for evermore.
Mount upward, lark-like from the sod;
And join, thou happy soul, the harmonies of God!


When is the time for prayer?
With the first beams that light the morning sky,
Ere for the toils of day thou dost prepare,

Lift up thy thoughts on high;
Commend thy loved ones to His watchful care!

Morn is the time for prayer!

And in the noontide hour,
If worn by toil, or by sad cares opprest,
Then unto God thy spirit's sorrow pour,

And He will give thee rest:
Thy voice shall reach Him through the fields of air :-

Noon is the time for prayer !

When the bright sun hath set,-,
Whilst yet eve's glowing colours deck the skies ;-
When with the loved at home again thou'st met,

Then let thy prayer arise
For those who in thy joys and sorrows share :-

Eve is the time for prayer !

And when the stars come forth,
When to the trusting heart sweet hopes are given,
And the deep stillness of the hour gives birth

To pure bright dreams of heaven,-
Kneel to thy God-ask strength, life's ills to bear.

Night is the time for prayer!

When is the time for prayer?,
In every hour, while life is spared to thee-
In crowds or solitude-in joy or care

Thy thoughts should heavenward flee.
At home-at morn and eve--with loved ones there,
Bend thou the knee in prayer !


THE RULE OF LIFE. Happiness is not what we are to look for. Our place is to be true to the best which we know, to seek that and do that; and if by “virtue its own reward” be meant that the good man cares only to continue good, desiring nothing more, then it is true and noble. But if virtue be valued because it is politic, because in pursuit of it will be found most enjoyment and fewest sufferings, then it is not noble any more, and it is turning the truth of God into a lie. Let us do right, and whether happiness or unhappiness come, it is no very great matter. If it come, life will be sweet; if it do not come, life will be bitter-and yet to be borne. On such a theory alone is the government of this world intelligibly just. The well-being of our souls depends only on what we are, and nobleness of character is nothing else but steady love of good, and steady scorn of evil. The government of the world is a problem while the desire of selfish enjoyment survives; and when justice is not done according to such standard, self-loving men will still ask, why? and find no answer. Only to those who have the heart to say, we can do without that, it is not what we ask or desire, is there no secret. Man will have what he deserves, and will find what is really best for him, exactly as he honestly seeks for it. Happiness may fly away, pleasure pall or cease to be obtainable, wealth decay, friends fail or prove unkind, and fame turn to infamy; but the power to serve God never fails, and the love of him is never rejected. Most of us, at one time or other of our lives, have known something of that only pure love in which no self is left remaining. We have loved as children, we have loved as lovers; some of us have learned to love a cause, a faith, a country; and what love would that he which existed only with a prudent view to after interests. Surely, there is a love which exults in the power of self-abandonment, and can glory in the privilege of suffering for what is good. “Que mon nom soit flétri pourvu que la France soit libre,” said Danton; and those wild patriots who had trampled into scorn the faith in an immortal life-in which they would be rewarded for what they were suffering, went to their graves as beds, for the dream of a people's liberty. Shall we, who would be thought reasonable men, love the living God with less heart than these poor men loved their phantom? Justice is done; the balance is not deranged. It only seems deranged, as long as we have not learned to serve without looking for recompense.-Westminster Review.

How seldom, friend! a good great man inherits
Honour or wealth, with all his worth and pains !
It sounds like stories from the land of spirits
If any man obtains that which he merits,
Or any merits that which he obtains.
For shame, dear friend! renounce this sordid strain,
What wouldst thou have a good great man obtain ?
Place ? titles ? riches? a gilded chain ?
Or heaps of corses which his sword hath slain ?
Greatness and goodness are not means, but ends!
Hath he not always treasures, always friends-
The good great man ! Three treasures, love and light,
And calm thoughts equable as infant's breath!
And three firm friends, more sure than day and night,
Himself, his Maker, and the angel death.-COLERIDGE.

Beings there are in the vast tide
Of human care and crime,
With whom the melodies abide
Of the everlasting chime:
Who carry music in their heart,
Through dusky lane and wrangling mart,
Plying their daily task with busier feet,
Because their secret souls a holy strain repeat.

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