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No precious author cheers my sou),
Or fills my heart with joy.'

Fain would I feed on mercies past,

To mitigate my woe;
On my surrounding blessings feast,

While praises overflow.
O for that faith that looks afar

Beyond this mingled scene;
That brings the heavenly Canaan near,

Though ages roll between.

Courage, my soul! thy threescore years,

And more, are passed away; And many a bitter sigh and tear,

That marked thy gloomy way. In infancy constrained to weep

Beneath affliction's rod, E'en then I felt how rough, how steep,

The way that leads to God.

Once lifted high on pleasure's wing,
The careless years went round;

Rapt in the world's fantastic ring,
Mo other bliss I found.

Ah! had my little bark remained

Upon this summer sea,
The richest portion I had gained

Were sin and misery.

* Anon.

A COMPARISON.

Behold the slowly-opening bud—the infant on the knee, And pause, and think, how like they are—how like their

course shall be; A rosy hue spreads o'er the flower, in many a beauteous

streak,— The rosy flush of health adorns the infant's smiling cheek.

The bud expands—the child, too, owns the ripening hand of time;

And both are gay, and wearing on, towards their sunny prime;

The sky above them both is bright; or if a cloud appears,

The silvery shower soon passes by—soon dried are boyhood's tears.

But after storms will scathe the flower—tears pour when

manhood's brow Is shadowed o'er with care, or furrowed deep by sorrow's

plough! Then one its zenith bloom attains—his full endowments

one; While fleet as dreams, and scarce observed the hours—

the seasons run.

Stern winter comes—old age creeps on—decay will soon

assail; The leaves are dropping one by one—tbe vigorous senses

fail; A few brief hours—a few short years—have yet to wear

away, Then what the flower ?—pale scentless dust! the man ?—

cold breathless clay.

Anon.

THE MARTYR.

I stood within a dungeon's wall,

And breathed awhile the captive's air;

Yet sweeter than in marble hall,

Arose to heaven the voice of prayer.

His head upon a stone reclined,

And as he poured his parting breath, Methought the living spark enshrined,

Was triumphing in death..

A few faint beams of living light

Were struggling through the grated bar; Illumining the path of night,

And pointing to his home afar :— Awhile he ceased, and on his cheek,

There stood a hue of heavenly birth; And if a voiceless thing can speak,

It said—' dissolve thou earth!'

And then his eye grew proudly bright,

And glory stamped his pallid brow; 'Hosanna 1 for the steeds of light!

Now Father, for the chariot, now,— The fiery car—the living steed—

My Father's house—my spirit's dome— Burst, burst your bonds—the soul is .freed,

Rise to your Eden home!'

Anon. K3

SERENADE.

i.

The mist is on the mountain,

The dew is on the flower,
The shadow on the fountain

Now deeper down doth lower!
The foliage, though brown its dress,

Assumes a browner hue;
For day, with all its loveliness,

Is fading from my view.

Ti.
The stars are in the heaven sown,
And like to angels' eyes,
In gentleness are looking down,
As pitying my sighs;
The moon is brightly beaming on

Our favourite bower and me;
And must I linger here alone,
My Lady-love, for thee?

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