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My sorrows I then might assuage
In the ways of religion and truth-
Might learn from the wisdom of age,
And be cheered by the sallies of youth.

4. Religion! what treasure untold

Resides in that heavenly word!
More precious than silver or gold,
Or all that this earth can afford.
But the sound of the church-going bell
These valleys and rocks never heard
Ne'er sighed at the sound of a knell,

Or smiled when a sabbath appeared.

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5. Ye winds that have made me your sport, Convey to this desolate shore

Some cordial endearing report

Of a land I shall visit no more.
My friends, do they now and then send
A wish or a thought after me?
O, tell me I yet have a friend,
Though a friend I am never to see.

6. How fleet is a glance of the mind! Compared with the speed of its flight, The tempest itself lags behind,

And the swift-winged arrows of light.
When I think of my own native land,
In a moment I seem to be there;
But, alas! recollection at hand,

Soon hurries me back to despair.

7. But the sea-fowl is gone to her nest, The beast is laid down in his lair;

Even here is a season of rest,

And I to my cabin repair.

There's mercy in every place;

And mercy encouraging thought!
Gives even affliction a grace,

And reconciles man to his lot.

WILLIAM COWPER.

LXXVIII.—NOTHING LIVES FOR ITSELF

ALONE.

1. What does God teach in His works? What is the lesson which He there bids us read concerning the great end of life? On the frail little stem in the garden hangs the opening rose. Go speak to it: "Why do you hang there, beautiful flower?"

2. "I hang here to sweeten the air which man breathes, to open my beauties to kindle emotion in his eye, to show him the hand of God who penciled every leaf, and laid it thus carefully on my bosom; and whether you find me here to greet him every morning with my opening face, or folding myself up under the cool curtains of evening, my end is the same. I live not to myself

alone."

3. "But suppose you hung on the distant mountain. side, instead of the garden?"

4. "Why, then I should live in brightness, under the bare possibility that man might direct his footsteps there, and smile to see me already awaiting his arrival, or that other spirits might see that God loves to give so freely, that He throws His glories even on the desert in profusion. Even there I should not live to myself alone."

5. Beside yon highway stands an aged tree, solitary and alone. You see no living thing near it, and you say, "Surely that must stand and live for itself alone!"

6. "No," says the tree; "God never made me for a

purpose so small. I am old. I have stood here more than a hundred years. In the summer I have spread out my arms and sheltered the panting flocks which hastened to my shade. In my bosom I have concealed and protected the broods of young birds as they lay and rocked in their nests.

7. "In the storm I have more than once received in my body the lightning's bolt, which had else destroyed the traveler. The acorns which I matured from year to year have been carried far and wide, and groves of forest oaks can claim me as their parent.

8. "I have lived for the eagle which has perched on my top; for the humming-bird that has paused and refreshed its giddy wings, ere it danced away again like a blossom of the air; for the insect that has found a home within the folds of my bark; and when I fall it will be by the hands of man, that I may strengthen the ship which makes him lord of the ocean, or go to his dwelling, to warm his hearth and cheer his home. I live not to myself."

9. On yonder mountain side comes down the silver brook, in the distance resembling a ribbon of silver; running and leaping as it dashes joyously and fearlessly down. Go ask that leaper: "Why are you doing thus?"

10. "I was born high up the mountain, but there I could do no good; and so I am hurrying down, running where I can and leaping where I must, but hastening down to create the sweet valley, where the thirsty cattle may drink, where the lark may sing on my margin, where I may drive the mill for the convenience of man, and then widen into the great river, and bear up his steamboats and shipping, and finally plunge into the ocean, to rise again in vapor, and perhaps come back in the cloud to my own native mountain to live my short life over again. Not a drop of water comes down my channel on

whose bright face you may not read, 'None liveth to himself.""

11. Speak now to that solitary star that hangs in the far verge of heaven, and ask the bright sparkler: "What are you doing there?"

12. Its voice comes down the path of light, and cries, "I am a mighty world. I was stationed here at creation, and had all my duties marked out. I was among the morning stars that sang together, and among the sons of God that shouted for joy at the creation of the earth. 13. "Aye, I was there

When the radiant morn of creation broke,
And the world in the smile of God awoke,
And the empty realms of darkness and death

Were moved thro' their depths by His mighty breath,
And orbs of beauty, and spheres of flame
From the void abyss by myriads came;
In the joy of youth, as they darted away,
Through the widening waste of space to play
Their silver voices in chorus rung,

And this was the song the bright ones sung:

"Great and marvelous are Thy works, Lord God Almighty; just and true are all Thy ways.'

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14. "Here among the morning stars I hold my place, and help to keep other worlds balanced and in their places. I have oceans and mountains, and I support myriads of immortal beings on my bosom; and when I have done all this, I send my bright beams down to earth, and the sailor takes hold of the helm and fixes his eye on me, and finds his way across the great ocean. Of all the countless hosts of my sister stars who walk forth in the great space of creation, not one, not one lives or shines for herself."

15. And thus has God written upon the flower that

sweetens the air; upon the breeze that rocks that flower on its stem; upon the rain-drop that refreshes the smallest sprig of moss that lifts its head in the desert; upon the ocean that rocks every swimmer in its chambers; upon every penciled shell that sleeps in the caverns of the deep, no less than upon the mighty sun which warms and cheers millions of creatures that live in his light: upon all his works He has written, "None of us liveth to himself."

16. And probably, were we wise enough to understand these works, we should find that there is nothing, from the cold stone in the earth, or the minutest being that breathes, which may not, in some way or other, minister to the happiness of some living creature.

JOHN TODD.

LXXIX. THE STRANGER ON THE SILL.

1. Between broad fields of wheat and corn,
Is the lowly home where I was born;
The peach-tree leans against the wall,
And the woodbine wanders over all
There is the shady doorway still,
But a stranger's foot has crossed the sill.

2. There is the barn; and, as of yore,

I can smell the hay from the open door,
And see the busy swallows throng,
And hear the peewee's mournful song:
But the stranger comes-O! painful proof-
His sheaves are piled to the heated roof.

3. There is the orchard; the very trees

Where my childhood knew long hours of ease,

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