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Ages have rolled their course, and time grown gray;
The earth has gathered to herself again,
And yet again, the myriads that were born
Of her uncounted, unremembered tribes.
The seas have changed their beds—the external hills
Have stooped with age—the solid continents
Have left their banks—and man's imperial works-
The toil, pride, strength of kingdoms, which had flung
Their haughty honours in the face of heaven,
As if immortal-have been swept away,
Shattered and mouldering, buried and forgot.
But time has shed no dimness on thy front,
Nor touched the firmness of thy tread: youth, strength,
And beauty still are thine-as clear, as bright,
As when the Almighty Former sent thee forth,
Beautiful offspring of his wondrous skill,
To watch earth's northern beacon, and proclaim
The eternal chorus of immortal Love.


The cloud-capp'd towers—the gorgeous palaces-
The solemn temples—the great globe itself-
Yea, all which it inherit shall dissolve,
And—like the baseless fabric of a vision
Leave not a wreck behind.


What does not fade? The tower that long had stood
The crash of thunder, and the warring winds-
Worn by the slow but sure destroyer, Time-
Now hangs in doubtful ruins o'er its base.
Even pyramids and walls of Aint descend :
The granite hills and rock-bound coasts decay.
Time shakes the stable tyranny of thrones;
And tottering empires fall by their own weight. Young.

Life's mystery-deep, restless as the ocean-

Hath surged and wailed for ages to and fro;
Earth’s generations watch its ceaseless motion,

As in and out its hollow moanings flow;
Shivering and yearning by that unknown sea,
Let my soul calm itselt, o God, in Thee !
Life's sorrows, with inexorable power,

Sweep desolation o'er this mortal plain;
And human loves and hopes fly as the chaff

Borne by the whirlwind from the ripened grain ;
Ah, when before that blast my hopes all flee,
May my sad soul in prayer ascend to Thee.

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,
Prom 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,


What shall I do lest life in silence pass ?

And if it do,
And never prompt the bray of noisy brass ;

What need'st thou rue ?
Ever note how the Ocean deeps are mute;

How shallows roar;
Worth is the Ocean-Fame is but the bruit

Along the shore.
What shall I do to be for ever known ?

Thy duty ever.
This did full many who yet sleep unknown- ,,

Oh! never, never !
Think'st thou, perchance, that they remain unknown

Whom thou know'st not?
By angel-songs in heaven their praise is shown

Divine their lot.
What shall I do to gain eternal life?

Discharge aright
The simple dues with which each day is rife;

Yea, with thy might.
Ere perfect scheme of action thou devise

Will life be fled,
While he, who ever acts as conscience cries,

Shall live, though dead.


All that the past hath taught-
Its prophets preaching a sublimer lore;
Its god-like poets heaping the bright ore

From the rich mines of thought;
And high-soul'd men, who, in that darkened age,
Dared in the cause of truth to breast its rage;

All that now lures us on,
Pointing afar, where glory waits our call,
Speaks to the soul, that when its clay shall fall,

A nobler, brighter dawn
Shall beam around its steps, before untrod,
Where with strong wing it sweeps still nearer God !

Darkness surrounds the grave;
And to the blind and erring, doubt and fear;
But the high hopes that light our pathway here

Stream o'er the cloud-hung wave;
And show beyond a more congenial clime,
Where the soul's lofty power prevails o'er Death and Time!


Thus to relieve the wretched was his pride,
And even his failings leaned to virtue's side;
But in his duty prompt at every call,
He watched and wept, he prayed and felt for all :
And—as a bird each fond endearment tries,
To tempt its new-fledged offspring to the skies
He tried each art, reproved each dull delay,
Allured to brighter worlds, and led the way.
Beside the bed where parting life was laid,
And sorrow, guilt, and pain by turns dismayed,
The reverend
champion stood.

At his control
Despair and anguish fled the struggling soul;
Comfort came down, the trembling wretch to raise,
And his last faltering accents whispered praise.
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 steady zeal, each honest rustic ran;
Even children followed, with endearing wile,
And plucked his gown, to share the good man's smile.
His ready smile a parent's warmth express'd,
Their welfare pleased him, and their cares distress’d;
To them his heart, his love, his griefs were given,
But all his serious thoughts had rest in heaven.
Like 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. GOLDSMITH.

with roses,

THE CHILDREN OF THE LORD'S SUPPER. Pentecost, day of rejoicing had come. The church of the village Stood glearning white in the morning's sheen. On the spire of the

belfry, Tipped with a vane of metal, glanced the flames of the spring-sun. Clear was the heaven, and blue, and May with her cap crowned Stood in holiday dress in the fields; and the wind and the brooklet Murmured gladness and peace-God's peace! With lips rosy-tinted Whispered the race of the flowers; and merry, on balancing

branches, Birds were singing their carol, a jubilant hymn to the Highest. Swept and clean was the church-yard. Adorned like a leaf-woven

arbour Stood its old-fashioned gate; and within, upon each cross of iron, Hung was a sweet-scented garland, new-twined by the hands of


Even the dial, that stood on a fountain among the departed, (There full á hundred years had it stood), was embellished with

blossoms. Like to the patriarch hoary, the sage of his kith and the hamlet, Who on his birth-day is crowned by children and children's

children; So stood the ancient prophet, and mute with his pencil of iron Marked on the tablet of stone, and measured the swift-changing

moment; While all around at his feet an eternity slumbered in quiet. Also the church within was adorned, for this was the season In which the young—their parents' hope, and the loved-ones of

heavenShould at the foot of the altar renew the vows of their baptism. There stood the church like a garden; from noble arms on the

church wall Grew forth a cluster of leaves, and the preacher's pulpit of oak-wood Budded once more anew, as aforetime the rock before Aaron. Wreathed thereon was the Bible with leaves, and the dove, washed

with silver, Under its canopy fastened, a necklace had on of wild-flowers. Likewise the lustre of brass, new-polished, blinked from the ceiling; And for lights there were lilies of Pentecost set in the sockets. Loud rang the bells already; the thronging crowd was assembled Far from valleys and hills, to list to the holy preaching. Hark! then roll forth at once the mighty tones from the organ. Hover like voices from God, aloft like invisible spirits, Chimed in the congregation, and sang an anthem immortal, Tuned to the choral of Luther; the song on its powerful pinions Took every living soul, and lifted it gently to heaven. Lo! there entered then into the church the Reverend Teacher, Clothed from his head to his feet the old man of seventy winters. Friendly was he to behold, and glad as the heralding angel Walked he among the crowds; but still a contemplative grandeur Lay on his forehead, as clear as on moss-covered grave-stone a

sun-beam. Simply and solemnly now proceeded the Christian service, Singing and prayer, and at last an ardent discourse from the old Many a moving word and warning, that out of the heart came, Fell like the dew of the morning, like manna on those in the desert. Afterwards when all was finished, the Teacher re-entered the

chancel, Followed therein by the young. On the right hand the boys had

their places, Delicate figures, with close curling hair, and cheeks rosy-blooming. But on the left hand of these there stood the tremulous lilies, Tinged with the blushing light of the morning, the diffident

maidens, Folding their hands in prayer, and their eyes cast down on the



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