But 'tis for this world only
That hope and pleasure die;
We know thou art not lonely,
Thy heavenly Father's nigh.
The cold earth may be on thee,
The green turf o'er thee spread;
Yet is his eye upon thee,
In thy last narrow bed.
O'tis the pang severest
That mortal hearts can know,
To lay what they held dearest,
Thus, thus-the dust below.
But he who gave and taketh,
Our sorrow will forgive,
If, mourning, faith forsaketh
Not Him to whom all live.
Resigned, not broken-hearted,
We leave thy little grave;
We love thee more departed,
And heaven is strong to save.
How many a fond affection lingers round
The fireside circle, which encloses all
Our dearest ones on earth-those whom we call
Our own, amid the busy world's wide bound,
Those who were never cold or faithless found,
Who in our hearts we know will never change,
But love us, think of us where'er we range,
Whose voices have a dear familiar sound,
Whose very looks are home to us-oh, there,
When the tired spirit from the vanities
Of life returns, to them it fondly flies,
Breathes every wish, reposes every care;
And almost thinks its weary wanderings sweet,
Home's blest endearments once again to meet!
Go when the morning shineth,
Go when the moon is bright,
Go when the eve declineth,
Go in the hush of night;
Go with pure mind and feeling,
Fling earthly thoughts away,
And in thy chamber kneeling,
Do thou in secret pray.
Remember all who love thee,
All who are loved by thee,
Pray too for those who hate thee,
If any such there be ;
Then for thyself in meekness,
A blessing humbly claim,
And link with each petition
Thy great Redeemer's name.
Or if 'tis e'er denied thee
In solitude to pray,
Should holy thoughts come o'er thee
When friends are round thy way;
E'en then the silent breathing,
The spirit raised above,
Will reach his throne of glory,
Who's mercy, truth and love,
O not a joy nor blessing
With this can we compare,
The power that he hath given us,
To pour our souls in prayer!
Whene'er thou pin'st in sadness,
Before his footstool fall;
Remember in thy gladness
His love who gave thee all.
To sit on rocks, to muse o'er flood and fell,
Slowly to trace the forest's shady scene,
Where things that own not man's dominion dwell,
And mortal foot hath ne'er or rarely been;
To climb the trackless mountain all unseen,
With the wild flock that never needs a fold,
Alone o'er steeps and foaming falls to lean;
This is not solitude; 'tis but to hold
Converse with nature's charms, and view her stores
But midst the crowd, the hum, the strife of men,
To hear, to see, to feel, and to possess,
And roam along, the world's tired denizen,
With none who bless us-none whom we can bless;
Minions of splendour shrinking from distress:
None that, with kindred consciousness endued,
If we were not, would seem to smile the less,
Of all that flattered, followed, sought and sued;
This is to be alone;-this, this is solitude!
A COMPARISON BETWEEN GOOD AND
EVIL HOUSEWIFERY.
Ill housewifery lieth till nine of the clock:
Good housewifery trieth to rise with the cock.
Ill housewifery trusteth to him and to her :
Good housewifery hasteth herself for to stir.
Ill housewifery careth for this nor for that:
Good housewifery spareth for fear ye wot what.
Ill housewifery pricketh herself up in pride:
Good housewifery tricketh her home as a bride.
Ill housewifery one thing or other must crave:
Good housewifery nothing but needful will have.
Ill housewifery moveth with gossip to spend :
Good housewifery loveth her household to tend.
Ill housewifery booketh mad toys in her head:
Good housewifery looketh that all things be fed.
Ill housewifery bringeth her shilling to naught:
Good housewifery singeth her coffers full fraught.
Ill housewifery rendeth and casteth aside :
Good housewifery mendeth, else would it go wide.
Ill housewifery craveth in secret to borrow:
Good housewifery saveth to-day, for to-morrow.
Ill housewifery dineth (not having to eat):
Good housewifery dineth with plenty of meat.
Ill housewifery letteth the devil take all:
Good housewifery setteth good tray of a small.
PENNY MAGAZINE.
THERE'S A GOOD TIME COMING.
There's a good time coming yet,
A good time coming!
e may not live to see the day, But earth shall glisten in the ray Of the good time coming.
Cannon balls may aid the truth,
But thought's a weapon stronger;
We'll win our battle by its aid—
Wait a little longer.
There's a good time coming yet,
A good time coming;
The pen shall supersede the sword,
And right, not might, shall be the lord,
In the good time coming.
Worth, not birth, shall rule mankind,
And be acknowledged stronger;
The proper impulse has been given-
Wait a little longer.
There's a good time coming yet,
A good time coming;
Hateful rivalries of creed,
Shall not make their martyrs bleed,
In the good time coming.
Religion shall be shorn of pride,
And flourish all the stronger;
And charity shall trim her lamp-
Wait a little longer.
There's a good time coming yet,
A good time coming;
War in all men's eyes shall be
A monster of iniquity,
In the good time coming.
Nations shall not quarrel then,
To prove which is the stronger,
Nor slaughter men for glory's sake-
Wait a little longer.
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