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 TORONTO PUBLIC UBRARIES 
 
 REFERENCE LIBRARY 
 
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 RECREATIONS OF A CLK/fGYMAy 
 
 LAID ASIDK WITH SPUAKEK'S SORJi-THEOAT. 
 
 ■f f 
 
 
 /J VTHOIV S PliEFA i E. 
 
 The general public will be disponed to di9para(je the rather bail printing ami er 
 4«0dingl7 plain, nnattraclive aspect of tbii volume; but our real ft'itnda will value it all 
 tbe more — or at least, none the le«fl — for this, when they know in what manoer, and 
 ander what circumttanoes it was publiehed. 
 
 JuBt as we were laid aside from paitoral duty by speaker's sore-throat, and prohib- 
 ited from much speaking, eitlier in public or private, we reoeiviid the pretaeut of an old 
 hand piinting-pressfrom an esteemed friend, Jas. Scott Esq. of Mount Forest; so witli 
 &e expf ndituro of Mteen dollars on type, ( most of which was second-hand ) and the 
 addition of composing sticks, inking roUera, -&c., supplied by our own ingenuity,— we 
 ioand ourself aVle to print, — realizing fortuoately in the whole thiai;, a quitt and suita- 
 ble recreation ^or our occasional spare hours. 
 
 Briefly then, our friends will rejoice to know, that not only are we the author of ev- 
 eif piece in the volume, but also, in the above circumstances, its sole print<)r and pub- 
 lisher. We were not always able trom oar very scarcity of certain kinds of type to 
 f et every thing in good form; mit as money, with a clergyman at the head of a lar;,'e 
 nmily, is generally scarce, we were bound to make the best of oar resoarcas. 
 
 Tbe sermon, which is the one we composed and read to the Presbytery at our or.l- 
 inaticn,'bot''iered ns most, as our supply of type woald infftre for only one page at a 
 time. To thia sermcD, however, we kept on adding piece after piece, till the volume at- 
 tained ita preaent size — havinglittle dreamed, at the commencement, that we should 
 .find the compositor's ait so enticing; and really, we are not sure thtt we sball not yet 
 make the old prets do duty in printing works of a larger kinJ, that n<>w lie in mana- 
 icript on our bands. Our little experience lias suggested this maoh however, that a lit- 
 tle knowledge of printing would be a usefid thing in the training of every minister. 
 
 As to the pieces which fill the book — they are jast fragments of every kind, which 
 composed at different times, were lying aroand, and which we thought might be pleas- 
 ant-and profitable to our friends. Some of them have been published before, and some 
 bave not. Our mutioal o«'nfners will find many of them as suitable lor singing as for re- 
 citation. We can imagine ourself being asked, 'Why did you not publisti some fun- 
 nier pieces in your book ? ' W« II, long ago, we did write funaier pieces — but on looking 
 at them at a later period, they seemed to be too funny and too foolish, to be either for 
 the good of the public or the ^lory of God. So we burned tbom. Life suffers not so 
 much from a scarcity of fiui, as from a want of grave and suber thought; aad this has 
 -been a ruling motive with us sn most that we have ever publiihed. 
 
 'But what about your tbroat' say our friends. Well, our throat and mouth ( for 
 both were equally affected ) are now getting greatly better; and w»» have already ocon- 
 pied the pulpit ol some of our friends, sensible of no after evil effect!!. As very powibly 
 some of our old acquaintances may wish to know something more of thid insidious dis- 
 ease, and how we got it; we wonld say briefly, that we believe it was caused by too 
 much public speaking, and especially by crowding three services on the Sabbath into too 
 close proximity. This, with a good deal of speaking through the week, we think, 
 brought it on. If we should suspect any other cause, as remotely affecting it, we 
 should aay, that possibly it may have been influenced by over severe elocutionary disci- 
 pline ( though in conformity with physioloijioal rales ) at an earlier period of our life. 
 
 VVe mention this, hecaure some persons are very stronf^jly disposed to consider 
 elocutionary training, when on what is acknowledged to be sound physiological princi- 
 ples, as the best means of reducing the prevalence of this disease. About thirty years 
 ago we first began to address pubhc audiences; and just a little earlier we learned 
 
 V' 
 
 .jtag-,,t»^' 
 
 / 
 

 Corwin's Tonio Sol-Fa ajbtem of music. Having uatarally a good voice, r)ut beoominK 
 «arly conBcioua of much defect in the nianageoaent of it, we pouesaed ounelf of seTeral 
 iirst-claga works on elocution, and proceeded most tborongbly to study and practice ita 
 principles, finding uur knowledge of music a most u»efal aiixiliaryin many departmentB 
 of tbe study. From theno works wc obtained a knowlodt;e of the bett physiological 
 conditions of speech, as well as of the beat physiological metna of dov«lopini( and man- 
 aging tonic and articulative power — whether by the chest, throat, or month — from tba 
 low, aspirated, d«eply pectoral notes of remorse to the slow, sofv, high-pitched semi- 
 tones ol tender pity. An we never liked a monotonous style, we always mado a point 
 of making our style harmonize with the varying spirit of our theme. 
 
 In connection with this study, for many yea. a, ( somewhat to the wonderment of oar 
 noM- neighbours ) we kept up the pMctice of reading aloud — with due regard to the 
 rulee we bad studied — selections from tlie best speakers and writers, sermons, orations,, 
 poems, — in short anything grave, gay, or humorous, that came to band, aiming to give 
 every sentence of tbe varying; j)as!iageB its appropriate utterance and delivery. 
 
 This practice added greatly to our power of expressing ideas, gave us a command of 
 good English, and made the elocutionary utterance of any passage uomucb a habit, that 
 in public speaking, our mind was not on this account diverted irom our theme. 
 
 All this we did to increase our efficier'.y in speakiiig or preaching, for we never were 
 in the habit of reading oni j;ri-v,:'r8e'. Thun, we may also here remark, that in ad- 
 
 dition to all this training which was by a long way our beat, we had also that of Pr«f. 
 Tavomer at Knox College, which, thoagh very simple.wai good. 
 
 From our own experience then, we should conclude, that the drill ov discipline of the- 
 voice according to acknowledged rules, promises little in rererence to the avoidance or 
 abatement of this throat affection among ministers. Nay, we suspect, that it is amoag 
 well trained epeakerfi, and especially among clearly distinct articulators, that tbe dis- 
 ease will be found most to abound. Tbe cbe.Ht and the larynx do indeed give the vo'w-- 
 el sounds; but it is after all the upper throat and mouth that shape and articulate the 
 words. The man of little fire or fervour who drawls or drones out his sentences with 
 an irksome but easy monotony, is the one, we should judge lea«t likely of all to be af- 
 fected by this disease. 
 
 With regard to the cure — it is rest. Our throat and mouth have been the subject 
 of many applications, but their chief cure has been rest. 
 
 Lastly, with reference to the help and the unbounded kindness, which we have ex- 
 perienced at the hands of the genial members of the medical profession — both here and 
 in Britain — we hereby conclude by expreuing to these gentlemen oar warmest Benti' 
 menta of gratitude. 
 
 Alex. Nieol 
 
 i| 
 
 Owen Sound, Augugt 18th, 1886. 
 
 
ice, r)ut beoominft 
 ounelf of Bereral 
 r and practice ita 
 lAiiy departmentB 
 >e«t pbyeiologioal 
 tlopjni; and uian- 
 mooth— from tha 
 gli-pitched 8«mi- 
 ftj8 mado a point 
 
 )nderment of oar 
 
 ue regard to the 
 
 irmons, orations,, 
 
 I, aiming to give 
 
 eliverjr. 
 
 UB a command of 
 
 luch a h.vbit, that 
 
 r theme. 
 
 )r we never were 
 
 iiatk, that in ad- 
 
 Iso that of Pref. 
 
 diicip]ina of th» 
 he avoidance or 
 tbat it is amoag 
 rs, that the dis- 
 Jd give the vow- 
 d articulate the 
 s seuteuceH witu 
 of all to be &f- 
 
 been the subject 
 
 ich we have ex- 
 
 — both here and 
 
 warmeit aenti' 
 
 TABLE OF CONTENTS. 
 
 Ordination ScriEr n. 
 
 A Sacrmueutal Uyiun. 
 
 The Safety of a Wakefal Faith 
 
 The Two Tree*. 
 
 The True Rook of Refuge. 
 
 Faith, Ho])e, and Charity. 
 
 Good Worki. 
 
 A Hymn of Trust let. 
 
 God's Providence. 
 
 Wlio is the best Pay-maater? 
 
 A Forect Temple, 
 
 Heaven Here. 
 
 Wild OatH. 
 
 Effective Arrows. 
 
 "Woodland Music. 
 
 The Thorn in the Flesh, 
 
 Votaries of Fashion. 
 
 Two Good Things. 
 
 Two Beautiful Things. 
 
 A Soul -less Man and a Ood of Chance. 
 
 Who Bids Beet ? 
 
 My Old Mill-Home— Seen in a Photograph. 
 
 A Marvel— A Hoaiy Head no Honour. 
 
 Elder Quirk. 
 
 The Faded Rose-bud. 
 
 The Shield of Fail!h. 
 
 Eternity. 
 
 Noah's Dove. 
 
 The Growth of Failh. 
 
 BurnR. 
 
 The Value of Faith. 
 
 A C(mparieon. 
 
 Saugeeu River. 
 
 The Wadding Garment of the Saints. 
 
 Amos "Wenger's Grave. 
 
 Our "Witnetses at the Judgment-seat. 
 
 Lines Suggested by last words of S. ColwelL 
 
 The World and a Secularizing Choreb. 
 
 A Martial Song. 
 
 Agonize to Enter tbe Strait-Gate. 
 
 Pious Resolutions. 
 
 The Holy Spirit. 
 
 God's Universe. 
 
 The Knowledge that Ennobles M»n. 
 
 Doth God Answer Prayer ? 
 
 Echo of the above. 
 
 A Theological Parable. 
 
 A Good and a Bad Conscience. 
 
 The Sinner in Temptation. 
 
 The Friends ot Long Ago. 
 
 To a Bunch of Heather. „ 
 
 Faith Illustrated, Ist. 
 
 Exhortation. 
 
 Come. 
 
 Faith Illustrated, 2nd. 
 
 Lines Read at the Closing of 1883, 
 
 Another Over theJDarkiRiver. 
 
 Page 
 
 1 
 
 6 
 
 S 
 
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 7 
 
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 8 
 
 8 
 
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 la 
 
 18 
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 24 
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 28 
 29 
 80 
 81 
 82 
 88 
 84 
 86 
 36 
 86 
 37 
 88 
 
 >a>>'£ltir»Jo'j.r^-.i(. . 
 
\ 
 
 C0NT1NT8. 
 
 Prkjtti nnder a Trying Diipensktioik 89 
 
 Ch«er Up .Blather! 3y 
 
 MemcriuB. 40 
 
 Good Old Mr. Donald. 41 
 
 The New Bible. 42 
 
 Feraevemuce — Tea-meeting Speech. 4B 
 
 Another— Ghosts or DrankenneM. 47 
 
 Barr>'e Sprc*. 62 
 
 Advice to a Newly Married Couple. 68 
 
 Song — the Troubles of the Minieter. 58 
 
 My Old Mill Home.— 2nd. Seea from Memory. ^^ 
 
 Lines of sympathy with Ms. & Mrs. P. Storey. ^^ 
 
 Beflecticns on a New Year's Storm» 67 
 
 A Hymn of Trust. 2nd. 67 
 
 Faith's Release. 58 
 
 True Glory. 68 
 
 Address to Children. 60 
 
 Our Little Words. 61 
 
 Balmoral on the Dee. 62 
 
 Temperance Song. 68 
 
 Spring. 64 
 
 That Night when Willie Died. 65 
 
 Debt. 66 
 
 A King of his Kind. 66 
 
 Old Father Time. 66 
 
 No Place Like Home. 68 
 
 Up and Doing. 68 
 
 A Solemn Leseon. 6S^ 
 
 Mercy to the Chief of Sinners. 6tt 
 
 Beminisoenees in Scotland. 70 
 
 Youth's Home. 71 
 
 Spoiled Johnny. 78 
 
 Another Tea-meeting Address. 78 
 
 My Mother. , 79 
 
 A Tians-Atlantio Grave. ' m 
 
 
OiiDINATIl)^ SEItMON. 
 
 8» 
 ^ 
 40 
 41 
 42 
 4B 
 47 
 62 
 58 
 58 
 54 
 66 
 57 
 67 
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 6i) 
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 79 
 
 I'KXl' — For God $o loved tht uorld, that he gait hn^only hggotten Son^that u-hoiotvfT- 
 ^itlitvtthin h'^'iihould not periih, hut hav« tierlattiny lift.-John III: 10. 
 
 There are two mounUins, pMt wliiob all heavenly pilfjrinu travel in their way to the 
 ecleatial Zion These two mountaine are Sinai and Calvary. At Sinai, they hear the 
 thoDderinga of the law and the sound of the trumpet exceeding luud— there, with quak-> 
 lag inees, they le**n the msjesty of Divine Justice. Al Calvary, they behold the Vio-> 
 tim smitten and bleeding under Binai's ours«; — thete, witli melting hearts, ^y hear 
 the atory of Divine Love. Love and Justioe are two distinet attribntee of the eternal 
 tted; and both are necessary to the perfection of lite Divine eharaeter. Justioe is not s 
 ■lere phase of Divine love, ae some iKould make it to be; no; is it a prineipW that is 
 Becesaary merelv te point out tie pathwav in whioh love ah.all walk; for, in the first 
 Mse, love would invariably bestww its gi/ts irreHpeotively of all merit or demerit; in 
 the latter case,, it would invariably have never a favour to give to the sinful and illde- 
 ■erving. Me I Love and justice are independent prinoiplee^ neither one eubordinate to 
 the other, beth aetins together in perfect harmony; and both alike neoeesary to the 
 ekaraeier of a perfect Being. So when lov(> would bestow its favours according to 
 netit, justice having bo elaims^ quietly acqniwoeii; but when love would bsstow its 
 gifts apon the head of ill desert, across the lines of justice, justice exacts ite ransom; and 
 wattansem paid^love and jvstioe, having each its own, embrace each other over the 
 bcftd of the imner whom they have conspired to redeem. 
 
 To-day, we have muoh t« hear about the wonders uf that love with which our text 
 OTrerflews; and. we tmst^ we ihall behold the love-lighted slopes of Calvary all the more 
 jmpreasively Irom havmg taken tuis baokwaid gianoii at ihe law-khuiaierinK petk in the 
 wilderness of Sinai. 
 
 We would remark, at this plaee,.that our text preeente the love of Ood io that form 
 •lone, IB which the human mind b oapable of forming enythiiig like a proper <)onoeption 
 •f it "God so loved the world, thai he gave hie only begotten Son, that whosoever be- 
 Ueveth in him should not perisli, but have e^'erlaatin^ life." For though we may very 
 firoperly be told, that the low of Qod is iaAiut*— how little can the human mind deal 
 inth the iafinite? we can- neither defi»e the limits of infinite love, nor spread the imag- 
 iiatioB over it. 1b attempting to d* so, we feel as the eagle utriviog to touch the op- 
 posite walla of the universe with the tipe of his outatretcheJ wiagrf, or to gather all the 
 light of the sun into his own eyes. We sA as a man, seeking t!> pour the li^htninga 
 into a wine-cnp, or to draw all the watere of me deep into his mouth, or to touch siinul- 
 fhneously tlie first and Ust milestones of eternity with his extended arms Qod's. love 
 is vastness, greatnesH^m> stery, everywhere; and the human mind, in the effort to com* 
 pass it, shrinks back exhausted as a grsMshopper with tlie w«i(,'iit of a world. One fa- 
 thom line alone «an souud the depths of Divin« love; and thai line mu ,i be long enough 
 to bitretch from I hu loftiest pinnacle of e«leati»l glory to the darkest, deepent shades of 
 Oalvary. But who can tell how long that line must be ? We cannot — angdls cannot. 
 
 Borne f<HWard on tbe-billowaot eternity, the echoes of a voioe reach us, "Lo I come' 
 io do thy will, O Lord." The Lead piereea upace,. as that shout is uttered. We hear 
 again thecry^ "Eli, Eli, lama, eahachthaiii ! "»4 that Lead reaches itn greatest depth on 
 Oalvary — and the proionnd which it huB pierced in the interval, cau be adequately 
 nieasured only by the sodBdin^ hue of my text, God eo loved the world, that he gave 
 his only begotten Son, that whosoever beiieveih in him should n )t perish, but have ev- 
 erlasting life. 
 
 Our Subject then to-day is, — God'S' love to sinners. And with a Bpeoial view 
 to bringing out the matter and the npirit of our text, we shall treat it under the follow- 
 ing hesd*: — I The lovo of Cod, as uianifuBted in the gift of the person an 1 ministry of 
 Cliriiit. II. The love of Cod, as manifeHted in the object for wliioh tlu gift wai bestowed, 
 namely, tbat whosoevtr Lelieveth in him should not peridh,&o. 
 
 Beturniiig tht-n to the hi bi head: — mark the love of Ood aa manifested in the gift 
 •f his only betsOtten Son, the exnlted person of Ciirist — not now to spe.ik of iiis ministry. 
 
 Man has sinned, man must sufier. God's latv has been broken, it must be fulfilled. 
 
 Divine jnetioe must be talisfied; it demands its every jot and tittle. A stain rests oa 
 the shield of Divine heraldry, and the blood of bulln and of goats will not eraie ' 
 
 Their blood may typify cleansing, but it fails to cleanse; The hand of justioe has- 
 
V 
 
 / 
 
 laid bold on the tranngrcasor, and the a«ntenc« of death ii abont to ba earrind into tf- 
 lect. Tha voice of God rolls forth in hi'avtn, 'Who will deliver from going down into 
 the pit. ' Duel it mot>t no reipona* ? U there no eye to pit.r — no hand to help ? The 
 leptre of rigbtecueneu i« extended and the aword of jcatioe ia drawn: but neither angel 
 Dor archangel interpoaea fur man. Ah ! many a pure heart throba beneath garmenta of 
 light in that fair throng, but never a heart pure enough, brave enou|>;h, powerful enough 
 to receive that aword-thruxt into itnelf, on man'a behalf, and anrvive. Never an^'^l i 
 oalled before to ancb a work an this. They may keep the way of the tree of life, drive 
 the recieant race from the boweia of Eilvn, and evon mininter, in many waya, to ibe 
 wanta of man in deeda of pity; but thia ia a work above and beyond aagelio might. iVt 
 the Loid hath found a Banaom. Not in the henii and flooka pastured on many hilla — 
 ii that ranrom — nor in the geld of Opher; not inthe diamonda and flapphirea tff many 
 minca, nor in the pearla of ibe richeat neaa; not in the utara firom auifelio breaata, nor iu 
 gematrom arebangel'Borown; Not nnr iu the fineat jewela — nor in tlieir rioheat aet- 
 ting— that garniah the throne of the Eternal; but in the Son of God from the boiom of 
 the Father. Behold the ainner'a willing Bannom ! He ia the Roae of Sharon and the 
 Pearl above all price, the One that ia the Fellow of the Father, heaven'i greateat a^d 
 beet Gift, the Latnb of God'a providing, the InoreAte, the Meat High. He hath laid 
 bare Hia bosoix, and in it Rhall the aword of juatioe be aheatbed; for '"God eo loved the 
 world that lie gave hia only begotten Son, that whoioevrr believeth in him ahonld not 
 periah, but have evf rlaating life." 
 
 Again, n:<ark thegrcatneaa of God'a love M aeen in the mi render of hit Son for 
 ■o unwoi thy and ungrateful a people — thoae he came to blea*. Ia he lent to a peo- 
 
 ple, that hail hia julvent with delight, and regard the oeeaaion of hia birth as-a galadaTf 
 no, but to a race iLat despiae and reject him; to a people that enlarge aad adorn tbtpft* 
 laoea of David for the reception of hia greater Son? no, but to a nation, that finds not 
 room for him^ even in the atranger'a inn, and more than begrudges hii infant form the 
 scant and rough accommodation of a manger in the atable for ita oradle, amid the bleat- 
 ing of theep and the raorting of oamela; nay — worae atill— to a nation, that under tho 
 band of Herod, wunld blet out of exiatenoe the only one pure life that ever visited it, 
 and seek the infant'a death ia tiie sUt^hter of the inueoeats, when "Rachel weeps for 
 her children." Aa life advances, do the people, whom be e4me to bless, treat him with 
 more reepect? Du they supply his table with the flesh oft the stalled ox, or eerv« bin 
 daily with the delicaoiesof the season? No! he earns bis bvead with the sweat of 
 bis brow; his back aches daily with the strain of toil, aad his hand bliaters with the Mo- 
 tion of the axe, tlM Raw, and the oldael, in jniniitering honre-aceommodation to the op- 
 ulent Nazarenca. No home of hia own openn ita doors to reeeive him. Few comforts, 
 fewer luxuries, and still fewer honours oome to him, eren among a people thomsolrei 
 iittle reapected; lor what good thmg oan oome out of Naxareth. 
 
 Thirty years roll past, and he is little heard of— and less eared (m — exoept by snob 
 MM need bis help ia his bumbls trade, and by a few oompaaions within bit own small 
 ■oirele. 
 
 Then again, Jet us mark (he love of God, as aeen in all that Christ did and submit- 
 ted to, in hia public minibtry. We atate the work of Christ, in the abstraot, when we 
 ray, Chriat came into the world and by his active and passive obedience, wronght out 
 ■ioor ralvation; «r again, that as the second Adam, taking the place of the firat under 
 the Covenant of Works, he fully met all .the requirements of that covenant, that now, 
 as our second repreaenkattvc Hend, he may offer «i sulv.ttion by faith aloae, under the 
 •Covenant of Grace. But Ah.l the miniatry ofChrisl, meaning much to us indeed, 
 when 8tated in the abatract, haa a more vivid exprcMion atill, when looked at in the 
 concrete. Our text favoura the concrete method of aurveyiag the miniatry of Chriat, 
 ..and we ahall try to keep in harmonv with it, atriving to meavuro as 11 as we oan, the 
 magnitude of that love by the greatnt^ss of the sixvice and the subering, to which it 
 volunteered on our behalf. Ot the unseen and more mysterious service and auffering, 
 we can comprehend almoat nothing; of the more outward and.leaa myaterious, that has 
 more in common with our experience, we can comprehend a little. To the latter av 
 pect of the Saviour's ministry, therefore, we shall mainly confine ourselves. 
 
 Mark the Saviunr emerge from obacurity into public life. The service, that had 
 been begun in obscurity, must necessarily pass into the light of perfect day; and the 
 W'Qck must be pushed.on to completion amidst the greatest opposition and scorn. 
 
 »^ock t 
 
 astlia 
 
 ^ceiver. 
 
 ^few rel 
 
 >and th< 
 
 itbe Pri 
 
 Itteapisc 
 
 jcity th 
 
 which 
 
 a bav 
 
 <|wingi>,' 
 
 {•way 1 
 
 |bitt»i 
 
 ^t whom I 
 
[)• carried into tf- 
 a ({oing down into 
 ad to b«lp ? The 
 ; but neitacr ftni;el 
 oeatli Kfftrmtnts of 
 t, powerfal enough 
 N«Ter unfjf'I'i 
 
 tree of life, dnvf 
 •n.r ways, to ibe 
 igelio might. i>t 
 d OD many hillt->- 
 ipphirea of many 
 Uo breaata, nor iu 
 
 tlMir riobeat aet- 
 from the boaora of 
 of Sharon and the 
 "•a'a ffreateat aoid 
 1. He hath laid 
 'Qod aoloTed the 
 in him ahonld not 
 
 er of hit Son for 
 he aent to a pa*. 
 [rth aaagalacb^ 
 aad adorn th« p»> 
 on, that finda not 
 ia inCant form the 
 ie, amid the bleat* 
 I, that onder tho 
 ever Tisited it, 
 iaehel weepa for 
 la, treat him with 
 . ox, or aervo him 
 itb the awaat of 
 tera with the fHo< 
 idation to the op- 
 Fewoomfertf, 
 wple themaelTaa 
 
 —except by anok 
 a hii own email 
 
 did and inbmit- 
 ■trMt, when we 
 oe, wronght oat 
 
 the first under 
 nant, that now, 
 ilone, under the 
 b to ua indeed, 
 ooked at in the 
 littry of Ohriit, 
 I as we oan, the 
 ng, to which it 
 ce and suffering, 
 terious, that has 
 To the latter av 
 Ivea. 
 errioe, that had 
 
 day; and the 
 bad Booxai. 
 
 He eo6a,fnrtb to.pieach the Kotpvi of peace'and good -will to the tbouaanJa iliA 
 !l|tlock to ifti Lim; and, for one that retires with the etpresaiun, 'never prophet spake 
 j'astLis man, surely this iH the Sun of Oud,' tea go away mucLcing, and call bim a de- 
 '^csiver. He c<>uies to tbfm resturing their siok to bfaltb and tbeir dead to life; huw 
 <few retttm t^ give glory tu Ood ? Tbo deaf and dumb spirits ara obedient tu bis bebuai; 
 and tbe untuinking mnltitudea say, "He bath a devil, and eaststb out devils tbrough 
 ;tbe Prince of deTJl*." He rides into Jeruraleoi, as its Kins and Lord; and only the 
 
 'despised 'rabble'and t<he little cbildrsu bail bis entrauoe. -Ha weepa over tbe guilty 
 jeity that slxmld bave bailed bim aa its King, and cries, "O Jurusalem, Jerusalem, 
 .which killest tbe prophets, and stone.'it tbsm thst are s^ut untothos; bow often would 
 (I bave gathered thy children togt-tber, as a ben dutb gather Iter broud undtr her 
 jlwingF,'' and this pvMple sliortly after, in return, call out, "Crucify bim, crucify biju, 
 {•way with this f#llow from the earth; it is not tit that be should live." Ab ! tbt* 
 4bitt»ie»t ixtgredient of all trials, is too oftvn tbe iiigratitu<ie-aDd cont«uipt ot tboHe, tor 
 if whom a good aervice is rendered. In this respect, his cup wai bitter indeed. But the 
 I elimaz of stifferiog on tbe Kirdeemer's part, is his last agony, when heaven, earth, and 
 ^1 bell, pour tbeir bitterest things into it. Ah ! this is indead the very gall of tbe ou<>. 
 I Vhe conviet, sentenced to death for Uie crime uf murder, even meets with bouio vuih- 
 I vniseiation inihia<deatb. l^be Prince of life, that came only to blesa, — lo instruct, to 
 j heal, to restore to life, receives no commiseration, — only mockery and scorn. No 
 ^ eompaaaiunate word or kindly act soothes bis woe. He is made tne butt of tbeir rib- 
 I aid jests and tarnits; be is spit upon, crowned with thorns, and regarded ai the laugh- 
 • Ing stock of tbe low and vile. Ob ! awlul unpariUleled hour, wliereiu all tbe oonceii- 
 tlated venom of our race and the long pent up malignance of domoas, hot and boiling 
 i fiom tbe fires of hell, pour forth together all their scalding, seething force on tbe Per- 
 son of Christ; -and earth and hell in affectionate brotherhood r«^vel in crushing out the 
 only one pure life that ever visited the world. O Earth'! Earth ! mauy peoples 
 
 bave eniicbed thy parcbi-d places with their blood; and tbe blood 'of many eaoriticed 
 hast thou dmnk m, but thou baat never been baptized with the blood of a victim like 
 this,; — never 'blood pure, eUansing, and life-giving, aa thia. Well'may the San bide 
 bis face from ao terrible a scene. Well may tbe Earth put on role.-* of mourning, and 
 seek tbe gloom of darkness at mid-day, -to bide her shame. Well may her big heart 
 . throb with earth-quak" , and tbe akies we^p over her; for here is a sorrow greater than 
 that of BacliAl, wiien she weptior her olfifdren, and would not be comforied. 
 
 Oil ! what deiptb of love is this; love, that can fiumiah such a ransom, and for ac 
 nniroithy a .p^ople. 
 
 We bare looked at the more outward and less-myaterioaa part of Christ'a ministry, 
 4tscbeeifnl obedience, the 'bold opposition, and the bitter irony* and seom, with which 
 it was treated; but the greatness of-tbe sacrifice rendered by this lov«, becoraes more 
 prolound, aa we look with dazed eyes into the mote mysterious and lesa visible part of 
 'hia work on our bebakf. Tbe cup prepared ft/r him, b* drank to the very dregs. 
 
 'Oh that- cup ! who aball analyze its contents ? There .are tbe sting and the bitter- 
 aiess'of death iu it; there are the vengeance and th« agony of bell in it, without one 
 Bweeieuing ingri dient. It fumes wiib tbe torment of damnation, and scalda tbe lips 
 with'the heatof fircB un.'^uencbuble. The tears, tbe groanH, and the anguish of an eter- 
 •fiity of woe are in it; and yet, though <the Son of man ahrinks from tbe foaming cup, he 
 drinka it to tbe veiy dngs. A>"ma<n 'may behold such suffeiing but be caonot compre- 
 hend it. Tbia woe has a depth beyond the soundings oi the most poweriul imsgina- 
 'tion ; and we must be content to look at it as we ses-it on the surface, Tbe human mind 
 is impotent here; -^nd rejoicing in the comfort of a myatery which it cannot fathom, it 
 > can only say, "Behold tlie Lamb of God which taketb away the sin of the world." 
 Glory to God in tbe highest, and on earth peace, good- will toward men. " 
 
 We come now to tbe Second part of our diBCoarse, namely, The love of God as 
 onanifested in the object, for which the gift of bis Son was bestowed, viz., that whoso- 
 evtr believeth in him should not perish, but have ererlasting life. 
 
 Mark that this salvation is not lor a selectfew oi a high moral status, but for wbo6o- 
 ev*r believelb. Ah I we should expect, that even the great love of God would discrim- 
 inate here; and that the prolanely vicious, aud at least the cruel persecutors of the Lord 
 \ Would be excluded from this salvation. But no ! WhoKoever believeth shall be savtd. 
 That whosoever is »,wid«, wide word. There ii room in it for the persecuting 
 
1^ 
 
 1 
 
 h 
 
 Sftnl; room iait for the lolf-confidAnt, but lying Peter; jea, room in it, it nuiy be, for 
 even Judas; bnt remorse killed him and he went to his own place. 
 
 O ye poor Outcasts, ye prodigals that waste your substance in riotous living, giv- 
 ing your lips to the wine-cup and your strength to the harlot, revelling in the mire as 
 filthy as the swine you Jiow feed, and whose husks you now oovet — there is room in 
 CK)d'8 lore, and there is an offer:of merer even for you. Ood gave his only begot* 
 
 t«n Sou, that these shackles might be struck from your hands, and you be made free, 
 holy, and happy men^. evrn for ever and for evermore. Whoioever believeth 
 
 ■hall not '^erinb. 
 
 O ye t^elf-righteous Ones, proudly pharisaioal, little avail those vain traditions, 
 tbvse gay phylacteries. Away with the ghastly morality of whited sepulchres and dead 
 men's boneF — that pays its tithes of anise and cummin, and loves long prayers and the 
 chief rooms at ff uutt— cast a«ide your hypocisy, -and in the love of Ood tliere is a place 
 of mercy alio for you. 
 
 And thou too, proud Greek, vain of thy lore and stlf-sufficieut in. thy wisdom, — 
 tb«ro is a treasure in this love more precious than that of Croesua and more potent than 
 Solon's iroB — a wi»dom more profound than thy Plato'*, a song more charming than 
 Homer'p, and an eloqurnoe more persuasive, than that of Dnmo^thenes, for hiarti that 
 arc not too proud to learn. Thou too^^ mayst come and believe. 
 
 Whosoever bflieveth ! yes, whosoever beiievetb, whether polished Greek or sav- 
 age barbarian, prince swaying a soeptre or bi^gar carryii^ hi* wallot, — all are wel- 
 comed to partake of the blesbinga purchased by this luve. . The granary of heaven 
 will be (supplied from all noiiU and all climates. The King in his beanty is as pleased 
 with a broken stalk of wheat from a pauper's yaiid as with a statelyv stem from a palace 
 garden. Whocoever belie veth- will be accepted; and whosoever is evury body and 
 any body, high or low, rich or poor, good or bad, that truly cosies to Christ. Faith is 
 just that talismanio principle, that trausforms that<WaosoEVBR into a loving and re- 
 newed child of God and an heir of glory. 
 
 Then this love of God has decreed, that the believer shall not perish. Oh t it were 
 a great tiling, if a sinner Kks been fdund in arms against his Lord,, to withhold the 
 sword of Ju^tiG«^froUl the heart that planned the revolt and dared^to carry it into 'execu- 
 tion—' . .l/..Iiold the halter from the n^ck that disdained to ownr-iit* master's yoke. 
 
 Though the sinner might thus indeed bear the mark of Judas and traitor, he would 
 at least he«elea<«ed from the grasp of- justice and tamed free upon the streets. 
 
 Ah I bare lifo alone, is still a precious gift, though it might be but the life of a vaga- 
 1)i»nd whom the hand of justice has spared. Starvation and death might await the 
 recreant in the future— with few friends and few favours to brighten the remaining 
 span of his existence — yet he would, at least, have the .privilege of. choosing his own 
 df ath-lair, and of using some 6»pprific8, which — if they could not remove the sting of 
 death — might make it easy. But Oh I the love of God'han no such narrow bounds. 
 
 It does not fell the prisoner to the ground, and having bathed-itself in traitor-blood,, 
 leave the carcass to feed the raven and tlie vuUure. It parleys and pli-ads with the 
 
 sinner— till the weapons of rebellion foil from his hands — binds up his wounds and 
 clothes his nakedness with raiment, appeases bis hunger with food, and warms him with 
 the heat of its own bbsom. He shall not perish. 
 
 Now observe, Lastly ,that the Love of G(^ is not content with the bestowal of mere- 
 ly negative mercies — God gave his only begotten Son, that not oaly should men not per- 
 ish, but that they should have everlasting life. 
 
 God gives the sinner no mere respite of a few months, wherein he may set his house 
 in order, and prepare his soul for its exit from this stage of existence — nor even Hezt- 
 kiah's supplemental fifteen years — but life for over and ^ ever — lifcs vast, fathomless, 
 shorelepp., as the love of God which providad it. 
 
 "To take a note of time is wise in man." Here, the pendulum swings off swiftly 
 the moments of man's earthly existence, and we pass away; but what dial-plate shall 
 shall fitly record t'ae roll of duration, when time shall be no more ? Who shall tell the 
 seasons and enumerate the epochs of eternity ? The ball kicked to and fro, in the con- 
 flict of the athletei>, may reach its goal sometime. The weary bird tLiat skims the sur- 
 face of the ocean waves, may fold its wings and perch it» feet on the remote shores 
 some day; but onward and onward, like the lightning's flash or the darting dun-beam, 
 
 flies 
 ofal 
 
I it, it may be, for 
 
 riotous livin^t, giv- 
 int; in the wire m 
 — there is room iu 
 ive his only begot- 
 you be miuie free, 
 ^hoioever beliaveth 
 
 )te VMu trAilitions, 
 epulohres and dead 
 ig prayers and the 
 iod there is a place 
 
 in thy wisdom, — 
 imore potent than 
 ore charming than 
 lea, for hjarti that 
 
 shed Greek or sav- 
 allot, — all are wel- 
 granary of heaven 
 >eanty is as pleased 
 stem from a palsuse 
 is evury body and 
 to Christ. Faich is 
 o a loving and re- 
 
 sriah. Oh ! it ware 
 ^,,to withhold the 
 carry it iuto'exeou- 
 
 master'i yoke, 
 id traitor, he would 
 le streets. 
 
 the life of a vaga- 
 1 might await the 
 ten the remaining 
 .chootiag his own 
 imove the sting of 
 trruw bounds, 
 lelf in traitor-blood,, 
 nd pli'ads with the 
 ip his wounds and 
 id warms him with 
 
 bestowal of mere- 
 lould men not per- 
 
 may set his house 
 nor even Heza- 
 vast, fatbomleas, 
 
 swings off swiftly 
 lat dial-plute shall 
 Who shall tell the 
 nd fro, in the con- 
 Uat skims thu sur- 
 ho reQiute shores 
 lartiug dun-beam, 
 
 flies the goal of etemitv, fast and far, beyond the chase of the fleetost imagination. 
 
 But apart from this very eternity of life, to whioh the love of Ood leads us, think 
 of all the blessedness whioh this life impliAii. It impli<>s deliverance from the lash of 
 
 Jranisbment, which our sins have merited; but it also implies deliverance from siu itself— 
 rem the misery and wreck, in whioh our whole moral and spiritual nature is involved 
 hj the Fall in Eden. it may imply a higher de<jr«e of blessedness, than that even, 
 which might have come to the race, had it never fallen. While the race still wallows 
 in impnrity, with the fountain of thought and feeling still defiled, life in all its chan- 
 nels, most of neoeesity be etiU polluted. But the Love of God in Christ has made ample 
 piimsioB, that, in the life to which it leads, all such sources of pollution shall be dried up; 
 and the Waten of Lifp, with which the glorilied shall quench tlieir thirst, shall tr.ckl-j 
 and meander over every valley and hill-side of future human experience. That future 
 experienee will be ene of unutteiable delight, glory inconoeivahle, life unending; for 
 •ye hath not seen, n*r ear heard, neitlier hath entered into the heart of man to con- 
 ceive of the glory and the blesseduea«, whioh God hath prepared for those that love him. 
 
 The fairest flowers in our earthly Edens, alan, too often pierce with a secret thorn, 
 the ventaroos hand that plucks tkem. The same air that comes to our noitrila, deli- 
 eioua with fragrance, too often bears malaria in its breath, and the seeds of death to 
 those whom it deligkte. Our sweetest terrestrial music is nuver unmarred with the 
 wail of gnef and the discords of sin. Our fairest morning skies, promising whole days 
 of sunshine, are too oft«n ere ^e nocn, wrapped. Jn clouds, black with tempest, and 
 zintinr with the destraetive flight of the thnnder-&olt. Such is our earth physically, 
 moralfy^gloriouB in many of its aspects, but bearing everywhere boih above and be- 
 neath uie sorfaoe of things, doleful traoes of the havoo which sin hab made. 
 
 Bnt tke eternal life to whioh we aspire, and whioh is freely given to us i' Christ, 
 luM no inch dark shadows in it, moral or physical. In it, the ounscienca calm with 
 
 the peace of Pivine pardon, the keajrt warm with the glow of unquenchable love, the soul 
 bounding with tk« pulses of an undying life, will pour into (he cup of human experience 
 • dxangbt, whioh in life-giving felidtv, will slako the thirstiest soal. 
 
 Oh t the height and the depth of that love, thnt spared not the only Begotten, that 
 it might confer on us sueh a life. 
 
 Heaven's happy home witk its many mansions is ours; its unending blessednesa 
 is OUTS, its glory -liguted skies are ours; its redsemea saints, its angelio hosts are ourj, 
 itH flowing river of life, its golden city, its bejeweled throne, — yet, even its Lord of 
 glory, — all are ours, and we are Christ's, and Christ is God's. 
 
 And they are onrs for ever and ever — immutably and eteruHlIy ours; — not as 
 our fair nosegays that wither in our hands while we inhale theii fragrance, not as our 
 £u6 treasures that rot in our keeping, or our stately palaces that crumble, or our proud 
 monumeateofpower or skill chat perish. Ah No ! All these things shall pMSs away 
 into the waBte* of eblivion,"like the airy fabric of a vision, leaving not a wreck behind.'' 
 But this Life purchased for us in Christ, will be to us a "thing of beauty and of joy 
 for ever," ^ 
 
 Believer t rejoice and leap for joy; give praise unto the Lord your God; for 
 unto you shall be this eternal weight of glory. But let thf« unbelinving and disobedient 
 pause and tremble, and reject no more; for thus saith the Lord, "He that believeth 
 not shall be damned." 
 
 ■M I . 
 
 •i'l 'It! / ;;t ,., ,!.■, i 
 ! . .• ..•.,',' 1.,... .. 
 
 ■•: t ■>. 
 
A SACRAMENTAL HYMN. 
 
 A look it .Self, me overpowers — 
 
 So vile my lils has b«eo; 
 A look at CiniBt, tuj bopa restores, 
 
 And miikes ray soul sereue. 
 Oh ! can it bvi, ti)at precious Lamb, 
 
 Which on the Cro*n I see, 
 In agouy to muek and calm, . i 
 
 Did really die for me ? 
 
 O dripping Sacrifice, remain 
 
 For«*'er before mine eyei>; 
 Baptiz* mu in thy uoarlet rain: 
 
 its ohaiibiing will sutt'ice. 
 What care i tti*i ihou wertjdespised 
 
 By priest or PhariMeo ? 
 Thou art my liauetom and my prized — 
 
 Oh 1 everything to me. 
 
 O dear, dead Heart, so trae to me, 
 
 I i.ie'er shail comprehend 
 Thti wondrous love that raptured thee,- 
 
 ^u, not when time shall end. 
 That pHllid fane, now calm in death, 
 
 i ne'er cau tire to see, 
 Or those duar lips whose latest breath 
 
 Was spent in prayer for me. 
 
 O ej en, m swett i« death's repose, 
 
 I mark yet v/et beneath 
 1'ours shed in pity for the foes r ' 
 
 Tluit clamoured for his df ath. 
 Oh ! let me kiss these hundti and feet' 
 
 Their wonndshnve made niefree. 
 i) LtuJih &'.Uii'a)ile and Hweel ! 
 
 Thou tilt God'b Gift to me. 
 
 H' 
 
 
 I 
 
 1 
 
 - ■ .1 • ■ I 
 
 iV... 'I 
 
 i.j. 
 
 THE SAFETY OF A WAKEFUL FAITH. 
 
 So long &8 ft man travels to Paradise by the highway of Faith, he is in no dangtr 
 -bf losing either hiiassunuice or his track. Bnt when the devil, driving the steeds of 
 Jehu, ovtrtakes bim, and seduces him in ride in the chariot of Gool Works, tiie poor 
 traveller soon finds himself robbed of hi4 ansurance aiid pitched off crippled into the 
 dirt; whence he may seek a liew assurance an. I find his way back to the place from 
 whence he went astray,— ever a sudder, but not always a wiser man. It is better to 
 tread humbly a hard road with a wakeful fai >i, thaa <o ride in a fine ooaeh with a sleep- 
 ing presumption. The foinier keeps you humble, that it may cheer ani bless yoa; 
 the latter flatters your pride, that it may deceive and damn you. 
 
 77/^ TlVQ TREES. 
 
 fe 
 
 
 Qod planted a tree in Eden and called it Adam. It was a good tree and baro fruit 
 plenteously. There was no lack or bcarciiy while it tluarished; and if the tree had iiiut 
 with no injury, the sons of men might have continued to eat uf its fruit and have lived 
 TereTer> But Beelzebub a great serpent, |and determined] enemy of our raoe, 
 
;■ • I ■■■ ■ ■ 
 
 r . 
 
 . I ■ ' 
 
 lamaged the roots of that tree, and 6u poisuued its fruit, that the Great Uuebandmaa 
 inight well have cut it down aud cast the whole tree out of the garden, but he did not. 
 He planted another tree on Mount Calvary, which he called the second Adam. It 
 ^^as withoat ipot or blemish, aud it brought forth every kind of good fruit to perfection 
 So in order to save part of the first tree, he out otf its branches, and by the aid of tbe 
 |raz of faith, grafted th«m on to the second tree; in virtue of which union, the branches 
 once more became bealthr and bore fruit. The tree planted in Eden was Adam oar 
 ^rst parent; the tree planted on Calvary was Christ. So it was not becaose Qod found . 
 §he branehes of the first tree bearing good fruit, that he grafted them on to the second, 
 |pnt because they bore none at all; and they bear good fruit now, on the second tree, 
 'limply because they are grafted on to it. The sap of the firat tree, is the human in 
 ^he numan; the sap of the second is the Divine in the human. The fruit of the first 
 |ree is food only fit for devils; the fruit of the second is pleasing to Qod. Tl)e raw 
 j)oisened berries of the first tree are still to be found among the rocks of Siuai. The 
 luscious life-giving fruit of the second abounds on the slopes of Calvuy. 
 
 ' ■ 1 . '. wv ; 1 • ■ 
 
 
 V ■.■»',..!, 
 
 
 t • i.y .'■ ' 
 
 
 'Mi • . . ■ : .1 1 
 
 
 ... ' ■ ■ ..... ,^, . . 
 
 
 ■ -: ..i-' <.'•: .... 
 
 
 ^ . J t . ■ ■ ' ' . .'<.■•..' 
 
 
 -,. ,:i ' ! 
 
 
 
 
 ■:• "" ,;. ., :,•■••) 
 
 
 . ■ . . « 
 
 
 • 
 
 
 ,"■..' 
 
 1 
 
 1 
 
 I ii in no danger 
 ing the steeds of 
 Vorks, the poor 
 rippled into the 
 the place from 
 It ia better to 
 4h with a sleep- 
 tad blesi yoa; 
 
 THE IRVE HOOK OF REFUGE. 
 
 "We little know how frail we are. 
 
 How weak «ur strength till storm a«saiU, 
 And once our ship rides irr the war 
 
 Of battling waves and angry gales; 
 And in the vortex rtf distress — 
 
 Of shrieking wind and seething wave — 
 'There flash fork«d-1ightirinffB in our face, 
 
 And yawn mad waters for our grave. 
 
 'Then is thebhour. to try the strung, 
 
 Toteht the fortresses of faith, 
 *Con ect our estimates when wrong 
 
 And purge delusions in a brcaUi. . \ 
 'The frailest fortiesD stands secure 
 
 Till angry foemen scale its walls: 
 'The' feebleit shelter will endore 
 
 Till comes the tempest that appals. 
 
 Thus, with those bootless grounds of trust, 
 
 With which poor sinD«r.s lull their fears — 
 All, all, will crumble into dunt, 
 
 When God's great sifting-day appears. 
 And he alone will stand secure, 
 
 That trusts in Christ— and Christ alone. 
 That Book of Ages will endure 
 
 When all false refuges are gone. 
 
 le and bare fruit 
 he tree had uiut 
 '< and have lived 
 ly of our rao», 
 
^ 
 
 FAITH, HOPE, AND CHARITY. 
 
 Faith, Hops, and Charity, *r* thre« beautiful aiHterB, goui?ht »fter bj m»ny ■uitors. 
 
 Charity u the most beautiful of the three. »nd Hope ii the moet cheerful— Mt neither 
 of them will be wooed ringly. Yet he that will marry the plamer sirter Fatth, wiU 
 have the other two nsters to retiae with him all hit life; and happy ib the home that 
 hM inch a trio wiOin it Young ma», now is your chance. 
 
 GOOD WORKS. 
 
 Good Work$ are just Faith, Hope, and Charity, taking exercise. 
 
 AAHYMX OF TRUST. 
 
 Aias ! how swiftly pass the years: 
 ▲h me I how quickly moments fly: 
 
 And Time, with«U iU hopas and fears,. 
 
 Ii but a moment when it nears^ 
 And but a dream whenuiis bye. - 
 
 When-I survey the chequered way, 
 
 By which my Father led me here — 
 What cause for gratitude to-day, 
 What cause to trust, toUove, aud pray, 
 I learn from' alb my past career. 
 
 When clouds swept o^r me, dark'as niitht, 
 
 And death's pale spectre crossed my door^ 
 And Earth seemed withered with a buRht, 
 How soon, throng^ partiDK clouds, the light 
 Made Ufa all brif^hten as before. 
 
 Nor less Qod's goodness — when my Way 
 
 Led under prosp'rous^ dearer skies; 
 That grace which keepa my heart to-day, 
 Then kept my feet — so prone to f ^ray — 
 And made me humble, watchful, wise. 
 
 Sure', with the past before my eyes, 
 What in the future need I fear ? 
 
 That (trace he gives in rich sapphes,. 
 
 And guiding care, may well suffice 
 To keep mu through my whole career. 
 
 Then let me praise His Holy Name, 
 
 His love, his majesty a<lore: 
 His grace and goadneis o'^f ^^^ sam?, 
 iii'H mine to worship a-id to claim, 
 
 Through Christ my Lord for evermore. 
 
9 
 
 f many luiton. 
 irful — bat neither 
 sister Faith, will 
 s the home th*t 
 
 )roM«. 
 
 fjQiy.'i }'liu\'IUh:s< E. 
 
 ■y Uftd u-iavfs thf W»}t of Hh PiiirhJc/Kr ona Woinhrful Linnn. It Ia' a^ u' L- ai 
 
 ^pimeneity, as high afl infinity, and as long as eternity. It Las wliooh <)?< wUctld, 
 
 •irbeelB above wheels, and wheels within wheels— 'and an infinity of a^euciQv, material 
 
 ; ind epiritual, rational and irrational — all moving, whirling, and cvulvinpr, fro u thi> 
 
 •^■HHiv material of the incomprehensible and imknown, the great and linis'ieii f ti>rio of 
 
 ' I^ivine design ; whereon human experience, as the fly, seeks the sunlight and leaves 
 
 ihd print ot its tiny footsteps. Surely, a wonderful loom it must be, wherein tlie t ny 
 
 ftis^ct and tbe archangel are alike factors — the livid lightning with its dark swat'iiu ', t'as 
 
 /'lilent Bun beam, the spnvitijig vegetable, and the foaming breakere, third-rate potan- 
 
 Jies — the tangled lines of human thought, the resolve of the ratioual,a3 well as of the 
 
 i^ational creature, subsidiary or co-ordinate forces — not to speak of tbe bolts aiil t I'i 
 
 it^vf, the wheels, racks, levers^ and cams — made up of ten thousand agencies of earth and 
 
 -Air— that all clank, roU^ or swing sedately, at the flight of that i-huttle and tbe swoop 
 
 |f that beani tliat knocks the warp and the woof of terrestrial life together. 
 
 'Ih' Wfh itsAj'itt of Wuiiili'rful Ti.xtu.rc. We ca/n conceive of nothing in tho 
 tiniverBP, more. mysterious and gran<i, than the structure of this extraordinary fabric. 
 
 For, as the shuttle of revolviug years flies fast, and the feet of the Eternal move the 
 keadle,the gulden tUreada of Divine design roll torch in folds from eternity, just be- 
 .ACiroing distinctly clear as they come together And constitute that web, wherein the 
 [i|)intu»l and ihe invisible are the warp, and the material and tbe visible constitute the 
 -woof — a web wonderfully compounded^ indeeil, of matter and spirit, and developing on 
 Its nurface marvelLously multiform and ever-varjing phases of beauty, wisdom, aad 
 jy)od!ie8s. It is a fabric ever finishing, and yet not finished — wherein the material 
 4V(iof of humanity drops oifinto dust, leaving what is spiritual therein, to drift off in 
 feose threads into the mysterious and unseen, and yet leaving no hole, n-> flaw, and 
 BO marred pattern, on the face of a structure which will be the marvel of men and an- 
 4(i'ls throughout eternity. I wonder not that the wisest of the world's philosophers 
 save been perplexed and dazed in the contemplation of its mysteries; and some few 
 have been found wise enough to be able to reaid the Maker's name on its corners, and 
 A0 read and believe bis own account of it, as given in the advertizing sheets which ha 
 ^8 scattered for the help of the ignorant. 
 
 4 Why the Maker should choose to weave so together matter and spirit, I might 
 J>e able to conjecture some reasons, but I am not anxious to do so. I rejoice that I 
 am incapable of inadequately comprehending either the web or the design on its sur- 
 fm:e : for if I were so. I should have tbe mortification of finding myself compelled to 
 btlieve, that this beautiful web which I daily admire, wasuot made by God, but by a 
 Areat'ure like myself. Nevdr am I so happy, a 4 when understanding this thin*,' least, 
 IxantruBt in its Maker most; for, 'shall not all thiugs work together for go)l to 
 fchoge that love him ?' 
 
 Who is the best pay-master? 
 
 He tliot serveit the devil, uill (jet exnctlji his waff ex ; 
 He that nerves th u-nrl(J,uill (jet less tlian his waf/es ; 
 He that serves himself, will never ffet an;/ wages > 
 Bnt he that .tirfes (iitd. will (let hrlfer thin his wages. 
 
I 
 
 10 
 
 A FOHF.ST TKMPl.T-, 
 
 L-ave 111* uifh N'!itnr« arid the woarts, 
 !'o w;ncb. 'n w! tw:^ chanping moods; 
 Wh'-r" '"•o". p rnvn liand his tempje pilap 
 7.'\th piJInrffl nncl nmbrageoaR aielet; 
 V'\i' Tc gl<^ar.n 1 lue vistae of the sky 
 ^^Jnpiial) lealy windowfl far on high; 
 /\Md ;,'• l<l*>n .wfivep of siinligbt-sheea 
 ThToji tl'ironijli poft draperies of greea; 
 Aufl sninnripr zephyiR ptiRKing by, 
 ?nfft 'kiss thp tree tops with a sigh ; 
 Wbew nature's children, sl^ek and coy, 
 Arornid Irer altars dai^ce with joy 
 And in fh»^ir freedom and tiieir play, 
 Are ted and Cired for, day ny ^ay. 
 How strange 1 how qrand— the lutndiorai't 
 By ■which God builds eacli stately shafif— - 
 The tools by which his skill acbieves 
 Th^ir crowning cornices of leaves. 
 The trailing vine's soft tracery too - 
 How weaves he it of air an<j( dew '' 
 ■"Qy rfj'iulds Mnd paints thos«" i^'orgeous flowcm 
 'TVii'isp'fair mosaic paves his bowers, 
 And pives to «nch a glory bright 
 
 With btuph d'ppfd in the rosy lighi 
 
 TJiev still retiming, warm aud rich, 
 
 Th'^ Iragr.inch fro;n his fingers' touch 
 
 Bi aiing a ^dory and a grace. 
 All art. admires, but fails to trace. 
 "Witliiii this temple all are pure, 
 •And all are loyal, all secure ; 
 The aliar and the worshipper, 
 Alike God's work, alike his care. 
 Tlie ^loor, the arches, and the wall, 
 Havf jlife in each, and God in ^. 
 All *p*ak of God, his w6rk,hi8 ways ; 
 All palpitate wnth life and praise. 
 
 /'</ rather in ^h^x [caftj U'^upJ^y 
 4t onfi of'thtsf- umhragefiHH altars, 
 
 < ifrfsfnt m'ji tinrtihip to j/jiovah 
 lyith all thfsr v:6rshi'ppet m around me — 
 J'?jati in nianfj a eostli/ temple 
 Where Art expendii' her wit and rniUiom 
 
 ■ mi koHUpermasive mf'i .virroundinga, 
 Jo ifive to eniptif .louLs demtion, 
 And Jan by sensuistiv hrefzex 
 fJnviUing incense fir^'i ifa ffn.-<eri<. 
 ^luth air made rap(ui.nn.< ^tth mif9\^. 
 
 "'i, 9h« Bfti 
 
 tiMdise, 
 re«KM, t 
 
 ^WDt,who 
 bearen? 
 Heftven 
 \tfivX thrill 
 
 •nudM his 
 ffUgons. o( 
 4 So th 
 laying mat 
 'the mists 
 ^loty, bui 
 pide; a)id 
 .|n heaveii. 
 
 Som« oj 
 
 •17 liberty 
 
 must reap 
 
 * arrow tb 
 
 the fi 
 
 iias been i 
 
 ■trong. 
 
 ild the har] 
 
 llrom his I 
 
 0b»m : the 
 
 ii no burn 
 
 ^harness. 
 
 jl^cessity n 
 
 jlowetb, th) 
 
11 
 
 HEAVEN HERE. 
 
 <f h* Mint doM not always need to wait, till his feet toaoU the ahutes of the col ;sl ^f 
 
 ;)ar»diM, to tMte lotalie of the experienced of heaven. The golden sunahin <,the spioy 
 
 jre^ftee, askd the h^ney-winged maiic«f this Araby the bleased.often s^la-ldeu tbe liniri 
 
 »ef the ypyas^ <re he reoohee the derired poii,and the anchor falU. Ask th%t {yuv^ 
 
 Plaint, whpse Vark 1> ^'^^ breasting its last billow at the month of the haven — is thtiie » 
 
 heaven ? ^ ^^a^n I Yea, there^is a heaven — and heaven has bej^un in tuy soul f 
 
 Heaven is here : my eyes dance witl^ its gloiy, my heart palpitates with its love, iny 
 i^QOl Uirills with ito music, my o«p overflows with its joy. Tell me * There i» no 
 
 ,<Wi '^vl lie ia his bosom, and I hear his voice. Tell me ' There is no Christ ' — [ nit 
 lUuaM: his slihdow with ^reat delighC, and his fruit is sweet to my taste, "stay me with 
 (flagons, comfort me with apples, for I am sick of love." 
 
 80 the clouds draw their curtains of emerald and gold over the fading orb, and the 
 dying man's sun^ whieh seems to go down here, only ascends on the other side. And 
 the mists rise up from the valley .of the shadow of death, and we see no more of the 
 glory, but the sunlight qf lieaven shines on, and grows, and bria^htens, on the other 
 pide ; a|id behold, to tb^t pilgrim, there was no darkness, and no river to cross. He is 
 In heaven. 
 
 i 
 
 WILDO'^TS, OO0I i* m>t Hmeked ^ for wha/tsonver a man KowHh, that shall he also reap. 
 
 Ek>me claim liberty for evet^ ^maer to sow a little wild-oats iu hU vou'h. Ah ! ev- 
 ery liberty of this sort is harnessed to a necessity, — and the necessity is, that a man 
 mult reap whatsoever he soweth. Tie liberty, that would sow wild-oats, and 
 
 Jbirrow them into the bones and marrow of young life, is the same horse that must 
 •wiag the sickle and the waggon of Asces^ity, which reap and gamer in harvest, what 
 Ipas been sown in Spring. And Oh ! the harness of that horse is wonderfully 
 
 ■trong. The horse may iadead be of high mettle, and may kick and spurt enough 
 ill9 tbe harness — but the maa kas never been bom yet, that can separate that steed 
 fkom his following. Many an attempt has been made to break the tackle between^ 
 ^em : the traces, the whipple-tree, ,uid the king-bolt, have all been tried. Bat there 
 it no burnt iron and no unwaxed thread used in the shop, in whioh was made that 
 .harness. So the tackle is all as strong as Divine deor^e can make it ; and the 
 
 ;|^ce8sity must follow the liberty, Kven so, God is not mocked,— whatsoever anaan. 
 ^pweth, that must he also reap. 
 
 EFFECTIVE ARROWS. 
 
 I shot oif an arrow up high in the air '. 
 
 It pierced through the oloudsj and it spad paat the sun. 
 
 'Twas only a wish from the bow-string of p.'ayer, 
 
 But barbed with the faith, by whioh blessmgs are won. 
 
 No more to this world full of sorrow and strue, 
 
 E'er came back this arrow I ventured tu shoot ; 
 
 But Ah ! it had struck in the Oreat Tree of Life, 
 
 I kr^ew, by the rich after-fall of its fr.-.it. 
 
 E'en thus — every prayer that is breathed unto Ood, 
 
 Xay seem, to the faithless, words lost in the air. 
 
 Not eo— the best gifts that ai'e ever bestowed, 
 
 CJoine down through these silent, swift arrows of prayer. 
 
u 
 
 i^ 
 
 i. il 
 
 1 1' V 
 
 . 1 > 
 
 « ' ' 
 
 '.VOODLAXI* MUsfC. 
 
 HiM'A F'iuci; a thouRan/t cliovinterfl 
 
 Frnm !fiilleri«B of leavflfl; ' 
 
 E.vii in t\u' vrch of melody, 
 
 Its thfPiul of muRto weavea. ' 
 And ;tll Miv listtujinp archfts^ ' 
 
 Iii'joiciitflr in the strain, , 
 
 Lilt hick, in an'^weriner eohoea, 
 
 A R<»ftened. Kweet refrain. 
 
 }ffre none i)«rfonn for Incre, i- ■ ' 
 
 Or steal frou' fliiiisy art: ' ' '' 
 KhcIi soul sinjj^ out its j{ladnosfl— ,■, 
 
 Tliey all siu;^ from the h^art. ' 
 Here riii<>;H a s})oataiu)ity 
 
 Our chnrche.H seek in vain— 
 A oni^-uess and variety, 
 
 ^n one harmonious straia. 
 
 77//; Tf/nfiX /X TffK.FLESIf,. 
 
 At f ve'iy door there is a pool : 
 Th«- p ilac^ and tlje cot 
 
 Have it alike, <iVjflowing fnll— 
 A vilo poVhiting spot. ' 
 
 ' \i t i . ■ 
 
 ■V ! t ' 
 
 Jt MW 
 
 , <■ '. .i6C< 
 
 ' ■"?' 
 
 .. ., , ' » 
 
 .• tf. 
 
 
 i.O 1 b 
 
 '. - '■ < i 
 
 .;:.. 11 
 
 k '.' 
 
 I - ■ I i 
 
 . '.• 
 
 ■■ -:()1 
 
 1 ^ ■ 
 
 , iWV 
 
 kL:- 
 
 .. > I'. > 
 
 .;;■•> 'u.i. 
 
 i-i .Ml' ■ ■ 'It soils the feet on entering: in, 
 ♦j li ! I .jr. . i • A.iul 1 1 jnts RUi vonudinsr air — 
 Tf,j- .' d)!- «' All pye- sore p'ftr, without, within, 
 That nothincf will repair. 
 
 ' ■ i ■ 
 
 It will nf.l dredge, it will not drain, 
 
 i ' Or beantily, or fill : 
 
 A ihou-and arts luivo tried in vain— 
 
 Thar spot vemaitioth still. 
 
 In every j^ardon blooms a flower,^ . ^ 
 All fairer than th^.^ refit, 
 
 It.s fresli aroma, «\ tu-y hoiir, 
 Tilt' sweetest and the beat. ' 
 
 Yet in this object of desire^ ' 
 , .\ piiol^ly barb, is borne : 
 Wlio imllsVuia rose we much admir©,,, 
 M ast .al." o take tlv« thorn. 
 
 • Tine is it with each earthly joy — ' 
 To flfjAU it Ib not «:iven, 
 Ti> ta.'-te of bliss without alloy, 
 i^ifttjry he etttevd htaven. ' •' 
 
 : , . I , 
 
 ill ^tT(.!ll 
 
 >,..,,.; -.1. 
 
 . ' ■I.-'. 
 
 W< 
 
 culiarit 
 really, 
 this sin 
 trary— 
 ted woi 
 A 
 ion has 
 one spa 
 the self 
 as he 
 
 Nini 
 en oDl < 
 dare ik 
 the ora( 
 of loviii 
 which i 
 fat piec 
 and we 
 was an; 
 i;iiOus 11 
 commo 
 merits ; 
 wont " 
 It if 
 in the b 
 made ii 
 the jew 
 forsakii 
 
 The 
 
 I Bee tl 
 that th 
 
 tear-dr 
 
 found 
 
 virtue ; 
 
 trinkel 
 
 Buitors 
 
 will si 
 
 blessii: 
 
m 
 
 loTAlilKs ur /-.isf/luX, 
 
 ■,v. ( . .->■> i ^- ■ 
 
 • ->f . - . • . 
 
 ... •• If 
 
 ', - ■ (;■'■:■•• I'l. 
 • ■I •» 
 , . . I-i. 
 . ■ »• -tOt • 
 
 ., .■4-.'l . ■■-tW 
 
 , .:•» •'. '■■■■ 1^ 
 
 I 
 
 1!'T 
 
 '• l\ . 
 
 
 We don't prttfiul to be a person of r\-qui-ito liisfn ov of mno'i iu'linli ; nnii i)ni' )>'' 
 culiarities in some thinj<s mny l>e attriWui^ble t.) a » f^crivo ni^thotio (iiliiout.ion. IJiit 
 really, we know of few things in tliis world, so insipid and tli^-t istcitil t.» oiii* Inart, a.' 
 tbis slmpei'in)^ devotion to 'use and wont' -ln' it iipconlir.;? to cdiiiui in stMne o • thfl co. 
 trary — tliat prevails every wliein ainoni; tho vdt.njus off;n!iioniu this widoly vnrio^^a 
 ted world around us. Fasliion, Kinir l'';i^liioii, is ilominiint eveiywln'.e. 
 
 A leader of public opinioji has u;ot a cruukf I necli, or a famous bell-wether of fash- 
 ion has lept over a certain bar in the fence — po the whol(3 procession of fools , without 
 one spark of self-assertion or of individuality, must ajie wry-nefiUs also, or jump t'lrouuh 
 the self-same notch in that fence. Tliey must dress as th.dr 1 -ader dresse-i, think 
 
 as Le thinks, and follow where he leads, thoui;!! it be hut to a fool's (h-alh. 
 
 Nine-tenths of this crowd, if they ever had any {genuine orit^inality, have it all shak- 
 en out of them by a head-and-neck race at the chariot wh els of King Fashion ; anil they 
 dare not utter a word, or put on a ras, till they have consulted the roll of pi'ecedeat, and 
 the oracle of tbeJr I., mi-god. Soul-less sticks all of them ! They are about as capable 
 of loving a friend earnestly, or of doing anything great or yood, as the walkinf,'-sticka 
 which they carry in the most approved method. For our own part, let us have a good 
 fat piece of human nature, not over depraved, and having a sprinkling of divine grace, 
 and we will take it to our heart and kiss it on both cheeks ; for it is of the stuff that ever 
 was any thing, or ever did anything, good, and of which the champions of civil and reli- 
 gious liberty are made. It has a will and an individuality of its own, and grace and 
 common sense to do nothing wrong or r.nreaponable. We can love it for its own 
 
 merits; aud if it loves us, it will not fear io say so, though all the dogs of "use and 
 wont" should bark at its heels, and King Fashion threaten it with his broom-stick. 
 
 It is not afraid to glorify God by letting its own individual form and colour be seen 
 in the sun-light — or to confess that God'd own work in itself, is far better than a man- 
 made imitation of some other person. It borrows neither the rags of the beggar nor 
 the jewels of the prince. The rose is beautiful, and so is the lily : but a rose 
 
 forsaking its own character and aping the hues of the lily, is mean and despicable. 
 
 TWO GOOD THINGS. • 
 
 There are two things in the world, for which I am grateful to God, every time that 
 I see them — the tear of joy or the tear of grief on a sinner's eye-lids. They tell me 
 that this sinner has still a heart — for tears are not begotten of stones. 
 
 TWO BEAUTIFUL THINGS. 
 
 The two most beautiful things, that I have ever seen on a maidenly face, are a 
 tear-drop in the eye and a blush upon the cheek. The rose-bud of modesty is never 
 found blooming thus beside the sparkling dew-drop of the heart, except on ihu stem of 
 virtue ; and she that has received this adornment from her Creator, need^ none of the 
 trinkets of the jeweller to make her lovely. She will win hearts : and all of her 
 
 suitors may know her dowry without asking her uncles or cousins. He that wins hor, 
 will sleep in the bosom of love, on a bed of peace, in a chamb sr fragrant with hea/en'is 
 blessiugs. 
 
14 
 
 ,f sor/.-fjjss MAX jy If A COD of ckaxcf.. 
 
 Iir.'Miia O Unbeliever ! Tell rs not fhat we have no sonls, anil tlut tberf in no God. 
 
 Villi would liiot tlio sun out of (»ur skies; yoii wwultl I'reezi our tnils witii iho bandi 
 
 of uii Arctic iVost; you wouW c(iii<,'eil williin us fcveiy lomitain of vviirin nnd ennobling 
 
 stiiuiiiunt, ovcvy pulse f)!' tiiitli, lio]>e, aud chiirity, and turn our Ijoarts into Curups of 
 
 ici'. You ^v'ould blast v/itli etorual mildew eveiy sprinj^-bnd of joy ftnd bu|>pine<ri 
 
 tint blosFo.ns in our br€ii!-.tp, and turn life in this world ioto hii ondlesB winter of des- 
 
 piiir. lou would bind every humiin tliought and tmiotHui with a chain of iiir>?ecular 
 
 law, and turn the kouI itself into nn nnthinknij,' niid irresponsible clod. You woulfl 
 
 laiuiii'.do every heaven-ward aspiration witliiu us with chains of lion or, and pive all that 
 
 our bouls hope or ctire for, to tlie winds of annihilation and the jaws of an endless <»r;ivi*. 
 
 Yon would rob ns of the souIj« of our dead, and give us for our coinfortors, oidy 
 
 worms made fat on the beauty of tlie lips that we loved to kiss. Yon would qui'Muii 
 
 forever the liqht of the sun, the moon, and the stars, clothe the oartli in tlie sablf j,'ur- 
 
 'meuts of eternal wiiow-liood, and l)ury man in the wreck and ruin of a GoiMess chao-i. 
 
 The bon;; of hope would forever cease, the hand of trust forever wither, tlio shout 
 
 of happiness ibrcver be dumb, the eye of rtason forever blind, and the hund oi uostdl- 
 
 ish and loving btiieficenco i'orf ver paralyzed. 
 
 Aud what would you offer us in place of oar God ? An Idol of Clniuce. Chan'-e, 
 "Chance would be the world'H God, molecular-law would ba his soo^tr-», confusion' his 
 priine-minibtev, .ind you, the mole-blind apostles of materialism, his puolic servatits. 
 
 He should rule over a nation of ?oul-leia clods. An assembly of chids would form 
 his parliament, a clod occupy the 'speaker's chair', and clods be his privy counsellors. 
 iSoul-less clods would thus enact and execute the laws of his kingdom. They 
 
 would he elfcctod by the law of chemical aifinities, cunvenod by thn law cf gravitation, 
 •aud pavliaruent be prorogued by the law ot electric repulsion. The clash of collision 
 
 w'onlil be their siteech — tlie roar of the cataract and the deafening crasli of the thunder- 
 .}'e;d, their hijiliest ideal, in tlieir flights of forensic elotjuence. When their mnnareh 
 mounted his throne, a thousand soul-lo's clods would how before him and c!y,'"0 Kin^; 
 Ohauce, live forevtr — God fave King Chance". The tenth day of tlie week would 
 
 be their Sabbath. Thereon would they asFemblc, and a clod preach to a congregation 
 of clod.!. They would pray to their god Chance, .md praise him; and the holy and' 
 inspired book of Chance would be opened, aad a text cho«en therein from the gospoJ 
 according to Stt JIuxley, Tyndal, or Bain, or from the inspired epistles of Spencer or 
 Mill. And the orthodox doctrines of chemical uflniilies, correlation of f6roes,&(j., would 
 be fully oxplaineil aad enforced, and all clods, not obtdient thereto, be ttireatened with 
 purgiihjrial fire?, wherebj tlrey should be turned into gas or minerals, and be shut up 
 in botrles to give relief to' the bov/ols of clods tormented with gripe?. Tho thunders 
 
 would lead their praise,' and tlie clods would rattle their sides with gladness, and clod 
 Ingeryol or Bradlaugh would pronounce the benediction. 
 
 !i: 
 
 WHO BIDS BEST? 
 
 Come with me, saith the learned, I will make you a scholar; 
 Come with me, saith the farmer, I '11 pay you a dollar; 
 Come with me, saith the merchant, I'll give to you tivas' : ?; 
 Come witji me, saith the lordliug, I '11 give to you pleasure; 
 CntUL- with me, saith the soUlinr, I 'il give you renown; 
 Come with me, ?aith th'.- Chi istian, I'll give you a crown, 
 And a Kni;;d<>m i'nrevor aud ever your own. 
 
 Ml' 
 
15 
 
 c(nnlortors, milj 
 )U would «)i 
 
 therp w no God. 
 
 3 witli >ho bands 
 in mill ennobling 
 ,s into l!nruy)« of 
 )y ami buvpineM 
 »8H winter «>(■ «les- 
 min of iiir>fecnlar 
 You would 
 and {rive all that 
 un endless 5»»'''V''. 
 rs, I inly 
 
 in tlio sablp f,'iir- 
 •X Goil-less chuo-». 
 wituer, tlio shorn 
 u Imml 01 nost'll- 
 
 Ihauce. Chan''e, 
 p,>, confusion' iiis 
 molic Bcrvatits. 
 clods would form 
 rivy counsellors, 
 [doin. They 
 
 iw c 1 yvavitation, 
 clash of oollisiou 
 ih of tliethander- 
 en tlioir ui'marcli 
 an- 1 ciy,'-0 Kint; 
 f the week would 
 to a ciiDgrfyivtiou 
 u'.mI Iho holy and' 
 i from the goapol 
 les of Spencer or 
 foroes.tfee., would 
 > tt)i"f-''k^-ened with 
 ami* be shut up 
 Tho thunders 
 laduees, und clod 
 
 )lar ; 
 
 ire; 
 
 I ..■('.I.. 
 
 MY OIJ) MILL HOME, 
 
 AS SEEX IN A PHOTOOUAia. 
 
 Dc^r old Mill Home of early days, 
 
 >Vh<it luemurieti wak«n at thy name; 
 And now, tjiAt 1 np'ni tufo gaze, 
 
 J uuiryei Ihou'it £o much tlie bsnio. 
 Long I hilly years have lapo 1 from time 
 
 JSiiitc litht I «aw tuy, lovely eceno ; 
 And iiow i'lu olU buyond my prime, 
 
 Atid wide, wide ccuuUti inturveiie. 
 
 I see the ditch where wns I'mi well 
 
 1 cibterned with apfiroitiicu-hands^ 
 I wonder if its watera lait, 
 
 1 wiiiidcr if my cistern -linds. 
 Now othbr liiH U1U5I i^uail' ius spiin^',, 
 
 Auu otljcr hands that I ox runow. 
 And other fei,a ita watuis hiin^', 
 
 Than thoae i love. I, or luo^e i liuew 
 
 Di'iii' Old Mill Home — before my siRht The level *liauj,'hR' stretch np i\v valf-, 
 
 'iiiy photoyraphic landscajift lies; Still bordered by th<'ii ' whiiia' and bi.oona». 
 
 And bb! it jitdds me luve delj{,'ht, Up to the PondB wo lovod to well. 
 
 And lone; lost, luas'oii'.i^ luemorios riso. Whero thick plaulauons ca>^t tbpir;;!oom. 
 
 The dear oKI mill— its water wheel The trees still <jrow b(-side the ' lulu',. 
 
 At gable end, olert lo go, The big trees in tlie' park' Icliind, 
 
 Is all like y'ore, and grmila the raeal And yon dark siiotoftroo and shide 
 
 As it did thirty ycarj ago. Marks BlackJord homestead to luy iniud. 
 
 ;The stately over-arching tree, Sweet Inndscapel Oh ! I {;fi/c, and gaze 
 
 The 'tail race' windiii'^ to the 'bum', Upon thee with untirin-.^ *-yes; 
 
 The 'beltin','h'niKl>'. aii'* *^l I ^^^i An<lback come all my early days, 
 
 becm all familiar every turn. And back the early i'l ienilH I pi ii-'e; 
 And thore tUebruom-thitched house! view, And it seems all hut ycstordisy 
 
 Its do')r, its windows ' but nnd ben', We danced aroand tliee rouipin;^ Ijoy* . 
 
 The barn and ' byre' so well I knew, Though forty years have passed away 
 
 lientath the lofty ash ami plane. \Vitfi all their sorrows and their joys. 
 
 All, all, are as I saw them last; 
 
 And I am much more changedtlian they 
 And it'll the himates of the past 
 
 Arc disad, or scattered — old and grey. 
 I Bee one window drawn for air, 
 
 As used to be long, long, ago; 
 But ne'er a face looks to me there, 
 
 And ne'er a person round I know. 
 
 And'neath yon roof no more shall meet, 
 , Tiie inmates of those vanished lioui'o; 
 And other forms and other fcfit 
 
 Must share the homo that ouca was ours. 
 Unclningod art thou ; how chaugetl are we, 
 
 That called thee home in early days? 
 And grey grow those that played like me 
 Around thy 'gowo'^y banks and braes'. 
 
 Borne moulder near thee in the dust. 
 
 The rest far spread in distant lands; 
 Yet all will meet agaui, I trust. 
 
 In that fair Home not made with hau'ls. 
 Blessed be the Lord for such a home 
 
 Oh ! may we for that home prepare ; 
 Tberft death and change shall never come. 
 
 Ami we shall ne'er bo parted there. 
 
k 
 
 10 
 
 A MARVEL— A IIOARY HKAD not an honour in TBK PULFIT* 
 
 One of tl.e woiiJers of tbis age i8,tlmt while meu of age and •zperiencA are 
 mf>5t Fon<:Lt aftur in uU utbcr prufessiuur, our pautural obargee should be so willing to 
 accMtl U) young niinibters ii monopoly uf the care and direction of their spiritual inter< 
 iKtf— tl.c uuibt im]ioitunt of life; tbat,tbe simple quality of go-a-head -ism, whioh young 
 nitn ait' fcuppiitcd especially to postess, should be thought to more than make up for 
 thv lack (if that witUom which comes with years; that zeal should be suppoied to wane 
 w lib tlio fires ot youth ; that the life, that has gravitated nearest Obriit and basked long- 
 er t in tbu li^lit of bis countenance, should be supposed to have lost newer either to guide 
 or adnionieb; and that hoar-hairs should be reckoned a crown of glorr everywhere else 
 than in the pulpit. 'ihtm aie things, for which, on grounds of wisdom, nothing in 
 
 <jiir ]il)iloMi])by, nothing in Plato's, and, we fear,notbiitg in the Divine, will account. 
 
 \VLen we can tev. lliat it is fitting ai.d pioper, that the stately cedar shall sit at the 
 fcoi ol tie tender sa]iling and leain how to ^row, and the sun learn of the stars how to 
 Hliint — thill we tnBy be able to reconcile this phenomentm with the counsels of wisdom 
 and pMidcMce. liul we do not see that yet. And we have a foolish prejudice that the 
 woiii 'elder,' applied to {niiitoiH in the New Testament, derived not a little of its sigiufi- 
 cnnce fiom the tact, tliut tlity were very often men of age and experience to whom it 
 was tLeie applied. 
 
 'J lie liiaiy head is a pearl, which the wearer would do well not to cast before 
 hwiiie. "NVLcn the head of a pastor acquires this adornment, his people not liking to 
 lie diveited liom the got pel, by too much tllulgence of tlus kiaid in the pulpit, soon find 
 n nioie fitting place tor the happy wearer in the lists of superannuated and retired ease, 
 when in cofy siipiieis' he njay walk witli it around the manse -policies, and at easy lei- 
 8un ci nuuiplate its bt uulith. The matured wisdom, that is supposed to dwell with 
 mch u ciown, is reckomd to be ni(«it beautiful in secret, where it may 'blush unseen.' 
 I, ill the pulpit, it -would 'waste its fragrance in the desert air.' If a pastor so adorned 
 is in K(ai(li of a new pulpit, we advise him, fortht^ sake of modesty, to wear a wig. 
 
 i 
 
 ELDER QUIRK. 
 
 Alttckadaj' ! tor Elder Quirk— 
 
 And ^V( e 's me for the minister, 
 That has him luling in his 'Kirk' : 
 
 He 's dour, and sour, and sinister. 
 He ' 11 keep them all alert and trim, 
 
 The Management and Session. 
 Tbey '11 ne'er want trouble, who have hiuv 
 
 AVithiu their congregation. 
 
 He '11 Flow the pafctor is a fool, 
 
 And teiir liis creed to tatters ; 
 And tciicli tliem ail a better rule 
 
 hi ii:inia^'iiig tbeir matttrs. 
 And wIjiu he takes a 'hoin' too much. 
 
 And diiiws ontHide attention — 
 W<ie 1o liii' uiau tiiat hints at such, 
 
 Though with the best intention; 
 
 LovMi, <"i.\\n, lo ' Bunkim ' with a je rk, 
 
 Ht'll {.o ■with lutt rLciinntv.nj, 
 ." ih'i n»"(r J) ii;;ii n i-ll tl e 'Kiik,' 
 
 Le filJe to plfc^tnt h m. 
 Kov rastorp viee, lake n'y advice — 
 
 Tl i.'- <'l(]<r (^'uiik. avoid liirn : 
 UiF ) >i( e in.iiiiiiM' and ficat pretence 
 
 Will njakc joii sweat to guide liim, 
 
i(f 
 
 •zperiencA are 
 BO willing to 
 spiritaal inter* 
 1, which young 
 \n make up for 
 [ipoied to wane 
 id balked long- 
 either to gnide 
 Terywhere else 
 om, nothing in 
 vill account, 
 ■hall Bit at the 
 le atara how to 
 iisels of wisdom 
 liudice that the 
 ile of ita aignili- 
 nce to whom it 
 
 )t to caat before 
 tie not liking to 
 julpit, Boon find 
 Ind retired ease, 
 tnd at easy lei* 
 id to dwell with 
 'bluah unseen.' 
 iBtor BO adorned 
 wear a wig. 
 
 titt: r.j»r.i» iiosKnrn. ■ 
 
 When the winter fitonuR jiroviiiliiisf, 
 
 TosKtd tlu'ir Piinw-di il'tsfo biuI fr(», 
 AikI iironnd <nir rosy ilwrllint,', 
 
 Alltiip ciirih wftsdeiip in Rimw; 
 Thou cnv fru^ilc, laiiy hloKfiom 
 
 JJniMed on tht- piiieiit ateni. 
 How we IniRsted it to our bosmu; 
 
 Mow we liiifc'f'd it wliun it Ciiiiiu. 
 
 N<!Voi- flower in April early, 
 
 Halt ho chiii'uiing,hulf to luir; 
 Never UoiI'h j;ilt prized fd dearly 
 
 liy a grHtetuI, happy pair. 
 Aiiii our l)osotu8 tianoeu with pleasure. 
 
 Ana we fonul>.d it and' sung: 
 And we thunked God ibr tlie troa.sure 
 
 With a grateful heart and ton<;ue, 
 
 I5nt alfis! our early bloasom 
 
 Wiltfid on on April ni^^bt; 
 All the h)vo within our bosom 
 
 Could not Have it from the blir;ht. 
 Vain our watchinj^ niijht and morrow 
 
 T'\4)r^!»frve its fading charuis; 
 And auii.f onr teaia and sorrow. 
 
 Died our rose-bud in onr armH. 
 
 And our flower,with bosoms nchinL', 
 
 Dei p wo buried by the lane. 
 In etornity.awaking, 
 
 It phall bud and bloom np;ain. 
 'TiH the (lust that now is sleepinp, 
 
 Rjr the soul has ?rone to rest. 
 Safe ii in in Jesus' ktepinj?, 
 
 Happy near liis bn'ing bre.»Rt. 
 
 '////'; S/f/h'/J) OF FAIT[I. 
 
 '•Bear tbou thy shield, or let thy shield bear thee, "says jthe ancient mother to her 
 eoldier boy, as he leaves his home, for the f rst time, to fight the enemies of his country. 
 Aye, grand old Spartan Mo.hej-, tlat 'vas wise advice. Living or dying, thy boy was 
 not to part from bis shield: to do so would bo disj^race, or veu death. Many a sao'e- 
 
 headotl Christian might 'learii winlom from thy old Spartan lips, in clinging thus tena- 
 ciously to the shield of faith. The sliieM of I'aitb is a sure protection in the day of battle, 
 when. the allows fall thick, and tue sj)eais of lotni n seek the heart's blood, and the 
 arm grows weary with slaughter. 15 at not 1 bs is it needed, when the blood spurts from 
 the arteries, and the sens-is reel, and t.ie warnur <alltj ; ami happy is he that liath the 
 ebirld of faith to fall on. In tlie iii^^e of conflict he boic his hhielJ, now, on the bed of 
 death, it beareth him. "Ah ! " saiti thii- <tying soldier of the crosn, '• in the day of life 
 and health I liave lived,- thought, felt, and served Go J, in the use of this shielfl, aud now 
 when 1 can serve no longer, my t.. oughts refuse to be inarsiialled, and my senses reel, 
 I can lie down on my shield an I — incapable of anything else — die trr.stin^ "n him". 
 Happy man ! he hath borne his shield ; U')w liis shielii beareth him. Where now is 
 the loeman that can wound or desecrate tlie body of tb< 'dlen? For that shield is God's 
 mercy seat, and the soul consec ated by its tnuch, is widiin ths Holy of Holies. 
 
13 
 
 ZTERXITY. 
 
 
 How vast is Eternity ! The cluck lias a loiij; peiululutu, thiii luarks off the seconcle 
 ■)!' iiifiuitc iluration, and its minute band has a large dial-plate to travel (»ver ; and tlixt 
 cli)ck tolls forth its hours slowly. The ear that hears the first clank of its bell-haui- 
 ruer, crumbles into dust while its echoes lingei- — and never hears u second. Suns start 
 into being, and with their attendant orbs, dance their little day around the cornices of 
 God's ternple^as the play of insects in a Klint of summer sunphine between showert^, — 
 anil pass away, as the story of a midnight dream: and still the ages of eternity roll on 
 nndimiuisbed. 
 
 And thus, as each wave ox the Atlantic surges shore-ward with its teeming myriads 
 of iitjuatic lives, and leaves their perished remains in piles on the beetling shores — to 'he 
 fi-^Ilowed by an endless succession of others; so do the ages of time roll in, bearing liie 
 myriads of rational and responsibla beings that sport their little day tberton, and pile on 
 tiiH .'tiand the ruined temples of their disembodied spirits, till every pebblp thereon is 
 the headstone of a grave, and the whole earth has become a citty ot'tlie deaii. 
 
 And what is time, but a billow of eternity, — whereon wie sweep to irrevocable dun- 
 tijiy. Leaven-ward or hell-ward, to eternal happiness or eternal woe. And death is the 
 bar at the mouth oi ♦he river,.over which each soul must paies on its eternal voya;,'e. 
 
 TheMce shall unpardoned shmers steer, without the grace of God to fill the sail or the 
 compass or chart of life to guide the helm — onward, onwatd, whithersoever the gales 
 of ungovernable passion or depraved desire shall hasten tlietn, till the keel strike the 
 .seas that boil and the shores tiiat glow with unquenchable ,"firo, and the melting rocks 
 on that lurid coast line shall ring and reel with the despairing slirieks of souls that are 
 shipwrecked nnd lost forever. 
 
 Even so— sinner, be wise in time. Now is the accepted ho'ir, now is the day of sal- 
 vation. No patching of torn sails, no mending of broken hulls, no adjusting of mislead- 
 ing compasses, beyond tiiat bar. As the prow of the vessel heads wlieu it plunges into 
 tilt- waves, so will it steer in its chart-less, compass-less voyage oH that drear,dead Sfu', 
 .ind none return from that voyage to tell us what shores they visit, what climes thoy 
 see, or how either captain or crew behave in the last great storm, when the ship strikes 
 on the rocks of pardition,.au'.l with all on board goes down in the Maelst^'om of etcnud 
 lietribution. 
 
 I 
 
 NOAH'S DOVE. 
 
 See yon poor, aHKiOus, wearied d!)ve 
 
 Fluttering c'ei' the seething waves — 
 No bank bcloWjaio branch above, 
 
 To yield the perching place she craves. 
 Worlr with the labour of her tligbt, 
 
 Pain would she fold her witigs to rest; 
 But'^ivhere ! Oh where ! can she alight 
 
 In such a boundless watery w aht • '.' 
 
 Bick to the ark i'co'n which she cxme, 
 
 Once miu'd she turns htsr anxious eyas; 
 Then straight as arrow for the same. 
 
 "With her fast wamu» strength shu flies. 
 There still awaits the open \>c-' 
 
 From which pA early dawn ..jo flow, 
 Xhere, still are safety and support, 
 
 Caushe but reai;liit,well she kucwi ' 
 
 A coii 
 old tree,* 
 it? lai 
 
 cannot, 
 iw^er g 
 n*A"er grc 
 tbe soil bl 
 
 grow up 
 om the! 
 good wor| 
 We seem 
 The: 
 and glory I 
 
 1 1 
 
 
10 
 
 U"the seconcle 
 ret ; anil thit 
 its bell-ham - 
 . Suns Blait 
 le cornices of 
 ;ii showern, — 
 ternity roll on 
 
 ning myna»l8 
 
 shores — to be 
 1, beimns? li»e 
 n, and pih' "n 
 blp thereoti is 
 
 revocable «his- 
 d death is the 
 lal voyaj,'e. 
 tlie sail or the 
 Bver the gales 
 eel strike the 
 melting rocks 
 souls that are 
 
 the day ol' sal- 
 iiig of mislead' 
 it plunges into 
 rear,dead sea? 
 ,t climes they 
 ,be ship strikes 
 tj.-om of eternal 
 
 An.V mwukI, onward, in liLvflij;!.! 
 
 .Slie btiains her wearied, tremblm- winggf 
 Ell' sunset and the coming nij^ht, 
 
 "Wrap nil in darkness earthly things. 
 Oil wearied wanderer I will she fail'.' 
 
 Will her remaijiing strength suflii't 
 To vaminish distance and tlje gale, 
 
 That beats so fiercely in her eyes'*' 
 
 Oh how shestrahi-i! how well she knowa 
 
 I'mt tliat one retug-* will avail, 
 To fiive her shelter and repose — 
 
 And dfrtth awAits hor, if she fail, 
 ii-s, nfarer, neaci', to hor goal, 
 
 IWit Oh! lw.'V stren.jlh i< fading fast— 
 And now her wings refuse eoiitrul — 
 
 l)own, down, she goes, o'etcuuio at Lvst. 
 
 ITev strength is |j one ! all hoi)e is vain 1 
 
 No, once more see her wings expand, 
 Her life's last elfdrt to attain 
 
 The ark of safety close at hand. 
 And she haVreached it, see you arm 
 
 Extend now and receive her in; 
 There fej and sheltered, safe from harm^ 
 
 She finds the goal she strove to wiii. 
 
 So iH it with tl e nnxions fouI 
 
 That peeks an earthly rest and peace, 
 Aroi nd life's troubled waters roll, 
 
 No rock, no refuge, or reUase. 
 Till T~earied with the booth^ss search, 
 
 It sees far o'er the seetbing waste 
 The Ark of Christ securely march, 
 
 And iflies for ehelter to His Breast. 
 
 'I 
 4 
 
 77/ A' (iROWTll OF I'AITU. 
 
 A cone falls from the boughs <»f a« old cedar of Ledauou. Says the cone to tho 
 old tree, "Oh ! how I wish to gixjw up and be a stately tree like you, but how shall I do 
 it ? I am trying to grow, and b«ild up a stem, and Hing out branches like you, but I 
 cannot. I am sorely tossed and altlicitd> but 1 can do nothing. ' Oh , I fear 1 shall 
 never grow up .at all ! " **Ah!'*,says the old lru',"you are trying too much, you will 
 never grow up at all till you grow dowu-, junt lie ^iili mid let your roots go down into 
 tile soil beneath you. There, my chiW. while you .sicju 'u rot. ybu will get strength to 
 
 grow up and be a stately cedar like me. ' Ah Fellow Christians ! learn a lesson 
 
 om the cedar and its cone. We can never ;^tiow up to a eomfoi table assurance and 
 good work8,till we grow down by faith decjily into tliu bosom of Cbrist. It is just while 
 we seem to lie there, and rot, and do nothing, that we get the strength to grow upwards. 
 The liiore we grow down into Christ, the morv shaU wc grow up unto fruitfulnesff 
 and glory. Without Christ we can do nothing. 
 
10 
 
 k 
 
 k 
 
 ];UI!NS. 
 
 f) li1:M.-. I O r.-irns : wlial r.npif art 
 Hapt Thdii to Unch (lie luiiraii Icait, 
 Of evovy rnce of cvfiy jmrl — 
 
 Of lii;.li 811(1 Inw. 
 Tliy wit .niiil ] iinmnr. lil.oji riut, 
 
 Ne"or lilinit or f-low. 
 
 O Burns ! t.boufih trail as all thy race, 
 Thy niuti'Ll ks |>(iwer and native grace 
 Still crave tby Gf nius liigbcst place — 
 
 Bard of the heart — 
 'E\u inhrr honifly Doric diess, 
 
 Untrained bv art. 
 
 Alikp ahrt to jo<r orfcnntor. But, O sweet Bard, tnni fame inurns, 
 
 In till irte sodrte. or fun and bantp;*, ' \Vhy is it that the reader mourns, 
 
 The rushing IV]use ( f "Bob the Banter" Or stops to praise or blaiup, in turns, 
 
 Sweeps past pell-mell, Tl^e ](af,'eH peon ? 
 
 Till all rnlranced, lilie/'Tnni o' Sbanter", Why is the Muse of Bobert Burns 
 
 We It cl her f-pell. So oft,' unclean ? 
 
 .D.^t!' as her nntics — ^^'en ;^aftw-^ It is not Ave woul'VRay,'t\ as folly 
 
 We jjreet her freaks with shouts of laughter, To choose thy t)iemes among the lowly; 
 
 ©r low in tears a moment after, The tober toilers and the jolly, 
 
 W:tli accents hollow— Their shades and lights, 
 
 WHere'er her fitful fancies waft her, Are wcithy of thy Genius wholly — 
 
 Constrained to follow. Her highest flights. 
 
 Of all the Muses, none we know But Oh ! the page defiled by lust. 
 
 Can. Fet our i'eeiiiigs fo aglow — And broad prolanity — we must, 
 
 Cur hi arts to dance, our t( ars to flow, Though chajnied by genius, still he just — 
 
 laki.' Kolibie Burns": It in thv shame. 
 
 The heart's whol^ key toaid, high and low, Thy muse, ui\faithful to her trusty 
 
 He sweeps by turns. Is here to blijime, 
 
 And in a day of purer- lighfc^ 
 
 iSome pages, all with genius bright. 
 
 Will sink out of the reader's sight. 
 
 As all too vile: 
 Whcr.-" gold and so much dirt unite, 
 
 Few "11 search the pile> 
 
 THE VALUE OF FATTH. 
 
 i A p 
 
 PUted us 
 Wieir juu 
 nhining, 
 
 1|luotUi]l 
 
 OJowded 
 toteiprii 
 iiaj "Ah 
 lISl, and 
 eniung tt 
 ttstore n 
 ptaics oa] 
 
 An funce of'Fnith, sprinkled on the Foul,wil] do.more to preserve.it from the fires 
 fi hi'll, thitn the baptism of a whole ocean, of j;uod works an 1 penances. The 
 
 ;:!:ood works of the best of us V. ill Irrn; and the kouI,, by clinging t(i them, is all the 
 lucpf certain to be consuined. Ami yet true faith, can never be known unless Dy its 
 gi;nd works — just as a Briuqe can be distinguished only by the jewels on his breast and 
 iiifi rich garments. Good works are, therefore, just the attire which is worn by faith; 
 and they can no n)f)re put on Jaith than a coat can put in its wtarer. So faith wears 
 ^!;oofl works; and the mo.st brygarly faith, if it is genuine, will escape the flaitios ofhell, 
 «v,oji4bo(igh many of its garments raav be brunt up. 
 
 Thefe, 
 fliend th 
 very muc 
 all kinds 
 the scenv 
 ajid the t 
 unconibfc 
 /lure with 
 ging, and 
 behold, h( 
 thin" in t 
 
 TIjcu gra 
 Bide gian 
 Now swol 
 Thouswei 
 And [ast 
 
 What car'i 
 Thy restle 
 Thou hap 
 And rid'bt 
 01 lii.n n 
 
 And y( t I 
 Child of ti 
 From disii 
 From sett 
 Wide-gat h 
 
 uf 
 
A I OMI'AUrsoN. 
 
 8 all thy race, 
 d native graca 
 igbt'st place — 
 he heart — 
 
 diess, 
 (1 by art. 
 
 fame iimrns, 
 ■ mourns, 
 lit', in tmiis, 
 ;eH feon ? 
 srt Uurns 
 imcleaii ? 
 
 \',as lolly 
 iiong tlie lowly; 
 
 ■■ joUy. 
 
 liades aTid lights, 
 
 1 wholly — 
 
 [best fiightp. 
 
 by lust. 
 
 mut^t, 
 
 us, still be just— 
 V Bham,e. 
 her trusty 
 
 to blijme. 
 
 ■ A politician, a poi-t, and a minister ot the K'-'Sl'^l, travellint,' together one day, dis-. 
 
 pn ted Its to what were tlie most bianlit'ul arid iiitoresting tilings tliat they beheld on 
 
 tlifir journey. buys ihe jxhtician,'' Behold the.^e well cultivated farms, those neat, 
 
 nhiiiiiig, and comfortable home.tead.s, tbo»je tall chium/|e smoking with the tires of mau- 
 
 ».il|lluotui)ng imuibtry, tho.-e thiiving cities teeming with busy hie, those seas and bays 
 
 Ol-owded with phips, bearing to and fro tlie products of the earih and of m:u»ufacluring; 
 
 •liteiprise — what bus the eaith to compare with tiitm iu beauty or inteiebt ?'' 
 
 ;; "Ah ! ",aay8 the poet, " tliese are tb'i works of man: to me tht;y smell of coal, and 
 
 0)1, and hiinjaii bwtut. l h<ar in lhl^e the clank ot wheels and pinions, the buss of es- 
 
 «ltlping tte»m, the ri 11 of carriages, aiui the jabber of merchantmen selling tLieir goods — 
 
 |!«store me the green fields, the llowtiy dales, the majestic grovos, aud the mountain. 
 
 peaks capped wiili snow,— fccenos of biauty or graiiileur : — 
 
 Whtre Natuie smiles within the vale 
 Or Irowns upon the m'.-untain, 
 VlayB with the blossoms of the dale 
 Ur flashes in the lountain. 
 
 These, tbesp, are to me infinitely more beautiful and interesting than anything our 
 fliend the pcditician has thought fit to mention.'' Says tlie minister, " I agree with 
 
 Very much ot what the [)o]itician has said about the beauty and interest associated with 
 all kinds of industrial enterprise ; and 1 am by no means insensible to the giandeur of 
 tte actrii'rf, described by ou. luother the poet. But when I look at the majestic forest 
 a^id the towering monntiini, I s-ay, J. ere is natuie with her face unwashrd and her hair 
 nncombfd; when i look att.ie cottage aud its wellcultivuted garden, T say, here is na- 
 ture with both her face washed und lier hair curled; but wh:n I look at^the father dig- 
 ging, and the mother Fpinnintr, nnd the children playing beside that cottage dowr, I say, 
 b< hold, here is tie image ot God bimstlf. Tiie m( st beautiful and the most interesting 
 thing in this^world is man." 
 
 sACGEEx: iiiv[';n. 
 
 TLcu grave Saugccn.'whose surging floods IJ.-^ee before me, rushing by. 
 Bide giandly down the winding glen; 'Ihe waters liom a thousand springs, — 
 
 Now swollen and iu thy haughty moods, The draughts the pettlers' wells supplj', 
 Thou Hwef p'st on throu"the trackleas woods The tear-drops of their grief and joy, 
 And past tlie fertile fields of men. _.. The'dew-tlrojis from ten thousand things. 
 
 ;o 
 
 ■0. it from the fires 
 es. The 
 
 them, is all the 
 lown unless Dy its 
 on his breast and 
 is worn by faith; 
 So faith wears 
 the flaitiosof hell. 
 
 "What car'fct thou for men's arts to train 
 Thy restless tide to turu their mills; 
 Thou lpap'.«t thf ir barriers in disdain. 
 And rid'sbt on grandly to the main 
 Of Hun u by the distant hills. 
 
 The rain distilled in misty showers, 
 The down-falls of the thunder storm. 
 The gifts, a generous Father pours 
 To thirsty trees and wilting Howcrs, 
 To beai-t, and bird, and crawling worm. 
 
 And y( t I love thee, wild Saugee n, Thy music'and thy march, Sangf en, 
 
 Child of tlic forest, — wandering fai', To me are sweetness .-uul delii^'lit: 
 
 From dismal swamp and dark raviiif". Thy softer aspcc'- 'v'l -a sorenf^, 
 
 From settler.-.' haunts aud woovllauds greet?, Tliy grandeur wluu toy waves careen 
 Wiile-gathcrtd — liL're thy waters are. O't-r bank and broas-twork in t'leir might. 
 
 4 
 
 \\i 11 on ! Ikoll on ! tlion grave h'augeen, 
 (ioa's blessing to a tliuusand homes. 
 May 1, \ain uiler on ijiis bceue. 
 Be more like thee tluiu i havu been. 
 My course a hle.samg where it^coines. 
 
22 
 
 TlIR WF.nniNd OARMRXT OP THE SAINTS. 
 
 Mark Wf!ll,*0 y<.' saints.'the alories of tlio roho wherewitli Obri=(t attires his guests 
 at tlie Marria,L,'o Suppor. It is fringed with prnraiRO and refulffent with love. Solo- 
 mon in all his crbry had no lohe that could equal this one in texture — no, nor have tho 
 lilifR of tlie lu Id. ' It 18 fraaran*^^ wil'i myrrh and cassia, and redolent of the Rose vX 
 >>hnron. Its warn are the <,'oldon lines of Christ's divinity; its woof, tho frailer threads 
 4)i Jn's huinsmitv: hut tho weaviiig of the two together has made the latter immortal. 
 
 It is ofC •■ 'litem shown I^Ioses on the Mount of God. The fires of Sinai have no 
 power to (-co: eh it; and he tliat weareth it shall live foi-over. God spake of this 
 
 rohe, nnt," Is saner of it, the patriarchs thought of it, but no man could manufacture it, 
 till, in tlie fulnesR of time, Jesus the Son of Marv. witli the shuttle of a holy life and 
 -the treadle of an agonizin? death, evolved it from his loom; and it received its last fin- 
 ishing touch, when, with his (ixpiring cry, it rolled from the cross to the foot of Cal- 
 vary, dyed with his 'jv/u sacrilicial blood. O sinner, hast thou cm this wedding 
 garment ? 
 
 A.vos \i-/':x(:/':/i's ghave. 
 
 I 
 
 Hero a husband, Son, and brntlier, 
 
 Slumbers in his lowly bed. 
 Stranger, if thou art a mother, 
 Wife, or frieml, or any otlier, 
 Shed a tear-drop o'er the dead. 
 
 Here the morn witli dowy finger 
 
 Decks the flowers upon his bi-east; 
 And the twiliglit loves to linger 
 Eound tho grave of Amos Wcuger 
 j.\.it<iv Kunsct in the weft. 
 
 lltire where arching branches quiver. 
 Song birds greet tlie morning light; 
 And the dirgo notes of the river 
 VVand'ring down the valley ever, 
 . Kise up mournfully at night. 
 
 Here, Ktvanger, pause and ponder 
 
 On the pregnant ends o! life; 
 In the bustlinu' villige yon ler, 
 boji'mii tlio^ii^lits arc hustled under — 
 Here is calmn.^ss from its strife. 
 
 Seat thee near these mouldering a'shes, 
 
 Dream thy past life o'er again; 
 And as memory wak'jsin fashes, 
 And its record past thee dashfis, 
 Let it teaeli thee not in vain. 
 
 Whither, stranger, art thou goin'^ ? 
 
 Ponder as tljou mak'ot I'eply. 
 In the years of God's bestowing 
 What hast thou been busy Bovvir.g ? 
 
 Tjiou shali reap it bye and bye. 
 
 Hast thou sfored'on high thy trea"ure? 
 
 Has thy life been good anJ brave, 
 Or but a reckless race for pleasure, 
 And tho wealth that ha3 itsmeasura 
 And its ending in the grave ? 
 
 sweet spot for meditation ! 
 
 Here, Lord, teach us to be wis^; 
 Make us share lU thy Salvation, 
 And our lives a preparation 
 
 For that hoin^ beyond the skies. 
 
 Piano to thy ashes, gentle brotlier ! 
 
 Safe, they in God's ke3piiig stored. 
 When have coasfjd life's toil an I bnt'ic 
 We sliull rnnel wil'i one a;iiiLh;H' 
 
 ,\iid hn fvt'r wifl: the Loi'd. 
 
Ouu ^s•^r^■KssI•:sl at tiik .iudcmk.nt skat ok ciiiiisT. 
 
 Oh ! wliat a fjatlifii-ino of wiluosscs will l>o arnmid j'ip jml'^'UK'nt'i-e it of oi;r Loivl. 
 
 Fiithers mid UK.itliers will be there; sojis and daii^'iituVd will bo tli iv; kiiismoiL, 
 friends, and < noniipK, will be there. Some wo shall bo Lrlal to see, ui\nv wuiiM rather 
 jiot Fee,— and why ? br i'uuse they liave soeii too ninoh i<f ih, and are to be ir witness a- 
 ^i^ainst ns. Tliere will be no need toaliuiniHter an oath a< that bar: every witness will 
 s])eak the truth, the whole truth, and uotLinj,' l)iit tn.- truth, no lU'evaiic ition, brili- 
 ery , or corrupt i»racti(,'e8, at that court. Every liji will h > honnst for ono"; and overy 
 hcait will f.tand revealed, Ktriiiped of all cloak cr coveriuL,', bafon^ God and an a^-iOiu- 
 .bled universe. Wliat an Ass-ize ! Then th'i (]u stionin? and the cio-i-iiicstion- 
 inc; — it will sift every man's kjuI to the f-iandation-^ oDiis boin-jr. Wnero did tiio coun- 
 Fels leain their art ? Aye, where did they, leuin it ? It will o tuaerii you and nih> 
 
 more, however, to know how we sliall stand and come tlrou^k its ordeal. And thu 
 
 jjroof — how will it come ? From tiie testimony of thy couK'iieuce,anil of lay consc once, 
 and from the lips of all these witiiesse-:, bit by bit, — jdvo thepioeas of the broken iMoab- 
 ite Stone — till the whole story is there. And you will read it, and I will re id it, am? 
 the world will read it, ar.d the Lord thy Judj,'o will r^a 1 it ; -lud tint record o: <,'uil.. 
 and condemnation, will lie f,ni=ven with Jehovah's pan c)n tho tablotsof the hum in co i- 
 Bcience, to endure forever 'i I ever; and every man will be constrained tj bay, ' it, is 
 true. Amen.' 
 
 Alaa for thee ! O Fi;.u"r if thou hast no pie ider, no p ev.i'lin,' Advocato th ;re. 
 Woe be to thee, whoutb Judge putteth on his black cip to [> ouoiuc i ihy do;)m: 
 •when he taketh for his liead • dire the clou is of Sinai, an l utr,i)ruth thy .seu'en .•') in us 
 thunders, andmaketh its li. iitnings his ministers (jt ve'i^'oauco. Tli ^^^) clo i !•<, ri-^iu: 
 no bigger than a man'- iiaml. will grow and grow, an I fo din,' a-'t; lud l'^^■•, lieir t'ueii 
 to thy eternal dwelliiii :dace of blackiicisajj I dirkayss, of w iej'.ia,', a 1 1 vv liliu ^f, an I 
 gnashing of teeth. 
 
 LlNK.S SlHidFSTiw ]!V TIIK DYING WOUDS OF THK L,\TK SyLV/.S rKIl (j JI.WKLI.. 
 
 Qh ! d^' not weep .• ,.ie, mother, 
 
 Ohl never liLavi- a high, — 
 You would not, could you see, mjthor. 
 
 My ha|i[»;ne.^s i.n.higli. 
 I never f^el a pain, m(jther. 
 
 Or sigh, or bhed a tear: 
 I 'U never die again, motber, 
 
 .Or lumi a borro,v hot';, 
 
 I walk tin golJcii street-, motlier, 
 
 And breatljo tlie hceute I air. 
 I drink the limpid ssveet.-i, ui)thir, 
 
 From fountams pun; and f,ur. 
 I eat the huniod f.uit, mo her, 
 
 F'r/um fad> less le ily spray.s. 
 And tune my harp an I lut<.>, m'dher, 
 
 To sing uiy baviour's praise. 
 
 I see luy HavicUi's laoe, mothur, 
 
 And liow bo oio Ids throne: 
 buch gloiy and suc.i grace, mother, 
 
 TliO eaith hath never ku iwn 
 A crtivvn oi life is mine, mother, 
 
 A roue of dazzling wiiit .• 
 .Like any star I snini', nioth'.-r — 
 
 Ay, '..doriuiislv brii-ht. 
 
 Oh! eya ha h no/ r se ii,J;U)tho:', 
 
 And ear hatU n;vjr iieard, — 
 The heart bat i never b,'en, mothv;r. 
 
 That dre4,mi of what 's [ire^pa.ed. 
 All know each oth^r here, mo-.Uer, 
 
 Your husband and yo ir son 
 Weio ne'er on eartu so ne ir, motlier, 
 
 Tueir liea:t and ho.u,' are ouj. 
 
 Wo s.jm.timjs think of yo i, lujtior, 
 
 As weepm ,' at o ir g'ave — 
 Yo I wo.ild u.)t d' y.iU liiu'Y, mi>vher, 
 
 \Vii;i,< iia[)pme<s we uave. 
 Wo l-ino.v ho,v all yo i .10, mutier, 
 
 You.' guardian aa^'-i; t-li. 
 Ohl k)ep this pi icj ii vie'v, niotUer, 
 
 And serve tlu it ister v/ell. 
 
 And tell my b;others dear, motier, 
 
 My loving sisters to i — 
 Wo lijpo to lueet t lem liore, mother, 
 
 lief.ire or alter you. 
 .■\nd O.i ! wo.j't jt b- ssve-t. moiuer. 
 
 To m ( t upon i.iU:5 s.iuro '.' 
 We know tiiau when ,ve meet, inother, 
 
 " T will bo to pait n > iiore. 
 
•J4 
 
 'ii: 
 
 \\i I; I 
 
 \. t ■^r( I I A];;/t> ( ( iitT( il 
 
 ' Come in, ron-r- ir.';n!ll- (' o riiivcl:.' tiii-- f.liiicp is luilt for your comfort, aiicl tha 
 {,'ospel 18 f.,r fl'o wliolr.-vmld.- ' l'..i.uh.r:/e Ncur t H)vi(vs.'saitli the Flesli. 'We have 
 now a nvc-hnndrcd-.lollni .>rpaii,'s!nth t!ie (;ii-icl.,':,ii(l u fiiio ritual." 'Popularize your 
 
 '(Hn iiiiuistcr prrachc^h neitl.i-r human depravity, election, 
 
 'r(.])ul;niz" your living.'saith the Devil. _ 'We 
 
 doctrinep,'paith' the World. 
 
 nor a new life, 'ropheth the Church. ^ ,.;,.. j - „. . .. 
 
 have (lected a wiiie-hihhcr for ao elder,' ivsjioudeth the Church. 'I will g" m ii y?« 
 
 will t,'o,'paith tlie FleBh to the Wo. Id. 'I will go in if you both will go.'saith the Devil., 
 'We will nil ro in fojietho-,' saiih tl^e Worl(l,'aud have a dance; the fiamts will hold 
 the light to us nnd rover onr »!e( ds witli'tlie cloak of char.ty'. Alas ! this iB v hat will 
 come of a sf cularizing church. Wlio n the church temporizes thus w Hh the world, the 
 llesh, nnd the devil, the l.altf r mo fuve tr. have Iho lest of the bargain. Church, he 
 faithful to Christ,— sptk not to vopiihiMze your f eivicis, bill Christianize them. Trust 
 more in God, and leps in these tlims^ c(nico'.t,s, f >r .Aiccess in your work. 
 
 A SIARTTAL KONG. 
 
 Couin^Tf ! ye K.kliers of thecioss; 
 
 Lit the Lroud banner be unfurled, 
 TJ at flnuiii.s confui-ioii to your. foe.-. 
 
 And btnrs Kahiitioii to a woild. 
 Courage, ye timid-houted throng, 
 
 Jehovah s buckler ir; your mail; 
 Tho.se tint oppoRc you'may be strong, 
 
 But he that 's for you shall prevail. 
 
 Then forward in Jelujvah's nam'-, 
 
 God's Wold 5'our weapMi for the fray, 
 
 "T will wound your proudest foes with sbame^ 
 And pieico their bravest with dismay. 
 
 Heo Satan's seriipd lines of sin. 
 
 Yon foi tress with its ln.ttie.med walls — 
 
 This with Ji hovah's legions win, 
 
 ^, And pLint his banners where it falls. 
 
 Disperpe thepe urtnies from the field 
 And stoim tli^ir strongest citadel; 
 
 Witli Chiist your Captain and your shield, 
 How is it possible to fail ? 
 
 If 'tis Go(.'ci glory that ye seek. 
 You nfed not i'enr the fiercest foe: 
 
 .For Gc d is rdroiig if yon aie wrak. 
 And f >fs shall fall in every blow. 
 
 Down wit] I oppre.ssion, vice, and siu, 
 
 Down, down, with ignorance and lies;. 
 Lf t tlio light ot the gosp'-'l in 
 
 And bi<i llie fetteu'd millions rise. 
 With all tlju world thus won for God. 
 
 Shall the millennial ghiry dawn. 
 And Eaith become the Idest abodr>. 
 
 Qf happy and regenerate man. 
 
 T wi 
 
 Wit 
 
 Not 
 
 F 
 
 lien 
 
 Hen 
 
 He.' 
 
 'J'l 
 
 IT-ii 
 
 l[\> 
 
 And 
 
215 
 
 AGONIZE TO ENTER THE STRAIT GATE. 
 
 ■(,rt, and ths 
 «\Ve have 
 ulavi/e your 
 ity, election, 
 evil. 'We 
 
 ^o in if you 
 h the Devil. > 
 its will hold 
 
 in V hat will 
 e world, the 
 ) Church, he 
 icin. Trust 
 
 Thcie art critical peiioils'ul' cvt-iy niftu'K lilV; luoaunl^ so fraught witli duui^'er^ 
 that the Houl may say u! itself, verily llure is hut ii sU p bi'twecu uic and d.Htli; luo- 
 uients hi whicli our etoii.al dc-tiny Nwiij^s in tlie hjilauce — eltru.il hiii)piue-^s un one 
 I'nd ol' tlic boaui, evtirlasliug wo" nu tl u othn ; iiiuiiit.ut^ ii; wliica tie .-uiall dust nl'the 
 bnhiiict is of import:ince, and may docMde tlio i'ateot a suiil; nioiucm.i in wliich t'lo hird 
 of victiiy hovfrf5 viuceitaiu wli^lhbr t^ ]i},'iit on our hin U'-r or on tliut of the foe, — hul 
 01) which, dejx uds on him v>lin is jihlf to hi' n^ hut a iittu.' rtscrvo forcf into tho lii'hl. 
 'J'heieaie in ( vny hattij critical m'uut-s, wliu tiii' hut nuiii is in to ticM, wliou 
 the last re£;inient ifi in tlie fhiirge, when vi;e la^t l.'ayciu t mil sabre are in llio fi'iiy, 
 ■whui the last military exjx diom is in oxuici!^-; and .••tdl ll e tide of victory waverp, and 
 the ba]ance-b> am of events treuiblos a'l uuceilain under the thundering oiis-jt of con- 
 tending nations. Oh ! i'or one IVt'sh battalion. Oh ! for one more military f xpodi- 
 ent, — n'anhath dont) his heft. Oh ! 'ov ot (.■ .siaile f.o;a tho God of armi..s, and one 
 touch of hifi liiiger.s to ihe scales of d( stiny, and all is ours. Rat still thu scales tuiu 
 
 j;ot.^ — the forces are eipial. Mow it i^ eudunmc?, — bottom, hoitom, — each man on his 
 la!:t ^llift, eacii man a torLrn hopt=, eiicli man lliugiiui; Ids life's lust energy into the 
 Fcnlcp, each man's heart going up n its Last piayor to Go 1. And now the boa'u moves, 
 slowly, Oh ! how slowly firtt, raiddly next, prvoipitately now: Victory, vict >ry ! Glory 
 to God, the hut tie is wen. 
 
 Oh po( r sinn« r . there is a lesson for thee in all this,— earnestness, a^^o!li/ing e irneet- 
 ness and tffort in the lnui of opj'ortuuity and peril. If men will thus strive for no 
 
 higher ohjert than to set their hetl on tiio U'ck of a f dh-n foo or to bring empty glory 
 to th.eir national arms, liow mucli mo'e mayst tnou ag mize to enter t'lo strait gate and 
 gain thnt bloodkss victory, wldeh luingeVii life everlasting to thyself and sorrow to 
 iwne, glory to Gt d in the highest and good-will to men. 
 
 nous RESOLUTIONS. 
 
 T will no more a wamh rev lo. 
 With heait estrauf'ed nnd far from thee, 
 Nor se; vp the world, whru I nin fiee 
 From it^i dread d a'ns and drudgery. 
 
 lleufofoitb, will T t':iy g'cy -erk. 
 lleiu'f fo'th will I thy p'aises ^ji'-ak, 
 IIe»'ct forth wi'l I thouidi 1 nm weak , 
 Thoe s;rive to . erve a-r 1 glorify. 
 
 ITincfforth at life's pun- (d.^•ln^iutr htre.am, 
 "Six Mini ►hill ;^-asli— it^ .-tr. ii;^tli rctl-j. ni ; 
 And thy white lobo, void s]»ot or seam, 
 Mv foul slial! clothe and iieau'ily. 
 
 Henceforth to Thee for dnily hmad, 
 Mv soul shall look and e'er bo f>;d : 
 HeneoforM' tay love shall be luy bed; 
 O that will be true iuxu -y ! 
 
 No more the world's allurintrjoys , 
 Shad snare my ho'.rt and feast my eves, 
 B'lt he?icefoi-t'i Christ sliall be tl e prize, 
 I'or wh ch my sod siris'i'^ vigorously. 
 
 No more a sl;(V(> an I was oi-.cf, 
 ,\f \ si-p"^ till' ngli '.r.. • ' si'all still advance, 
 Till vvuking tjom !,.e',-> Jl 'e.ing trance, 
 i iKiihr, ill t u il.iSi ec.-.tasv. 
 
2,> 
 
 THE iiOLV srilllT. 
 
 
 sliall 
 
 ) Tli(i;i Aliuii^lity Spirit ! vvli > !-hiill uiif",il l!,u my^lviioi of tliy liaa Uci'aft '/• Who 
 
 aji ! :iccniii]ili.iiiiiint in tho u-h ol L.i>' tdols 
 
 I'hdU iuliabitct 'trniitN; tliou fil- 
 
 lo.-t li'ith fhe lu'i^vcuo Mid ilio oailli. Oim with the Fa:uur aiil llie ^loti, tliou jr.-ati'il >t 
 nil tliiiiLs. TIk.u (li<;tt teacli tht Pleiaik'i todaaice: and by the ■, in cthei-i al i'lc Ids; ua.s 
 Aicl.mns tan.trht ti liunt his pr;!y. T):()ii diiist sh:.ri)t« iLc swoid cf Or'on, au.l with 
 star-li^'iif tlioii c^idst biunish atul Ijujowel his shi Id. iiy tiiee was tlie hl>;h\vay of Gal- 
 :u.'t()s bi-.ilt nil pillais of other, find iij lioider sown With ftai'-biossoni.^ in t'lo siirin;^- 
 1 inif of rtcinity. By iji- e wkiv tl;i; son-; oi' th'^ nioriiinu' t iug!it 1 1 tr tin tiior' on t'ji,ir 
 i'iciy eour,-:f'Vs, .-ini' to rtin ti:o i; in, or LisLi t'.e.r iue-i, witii t!i()n;^'> id' thj p.aited li^l.t 
 ot ten il ousand ncw-h.,rn siui'^. Jiy tiice was the woild evolvsd I'lu a Ciiaus and dark- 
 lu-s!-, thf 1 vcthi^ting liiil-; \*ci e M-;a-od nj), and tlie lands ajid ine soii ^dven tii-irdiv- 
 maiii. '1 liou (h'd^t i~]iO!ik h i.' in;o bcii.y, --and the ' aitli, tail* as a htide, robod li:;rst:lf 
 ■With vui'dnre a.d Icitihty, aud oVoy uiannur of living cicatiiro arooo fro.u her du^t, an I 
 ^atubolb'd or I'l'd on Iht tVuitfiili.ess, or i-e to I and wor.-.!dj'i>< d G.id amo':g bor bowu/-'. 
 Tliou calh'd.-t to the dust and bre;ilh'.d.--t int > ibo clay, — au.l be^jold iivin'^' man a- 
 Woko in th( iliviiio iniag- , a jewel of l;eavcn in a cLiy stltin>', the brcuth ot" lii.i Makur 
 iu all cuthen ve.-sel, ihc glory oi G<'d and the vie- "icnt < f li avci'.. 
 
 And iis in nmn's CretitiLiu, i-o also workcst tbuu in bis lb; Itynjition. Ti'iou breatln 
 est uion the soul that is dead iu trespasses and siUj «ud lo ! t n-re is ilio r '.surrect on of 
 a iitw liie, and ouce more man aiUt^rli iij tlie imaj^e of l.is Make . Tiie heart tliai his 
 li; en liaid as tl'o nether lyiljatoini, and lias been tbe lair or ioo.-.tinj^-pl.iCrt of ev-iry uu- 
 .d( HH iind ahomiujable desire, receivetb fiom tby hunii tbe bajjtism ol Calvary's bio id — 
 ;iiui lo ! tin ncefoitb. as nn alfar of God, it suioketh dady witli tire sacrd'icc:s of joy, 1 tVf, 
 ard .','iatuiul pruis", Ti on breatbest on tlie conscience that is 8- ured iu sin and iuseu- 
 ^:i<b- lo only a* a berfj of polar ice, — and it bt^coinetb ti nder as tUe haf of a lily iu tbe 
 Jin b.f'fzc. 'ihori Uuicdie^t the eyes ti;;'.t a^e bliuil,— aud tbe scales fall oi!!, and these 
 «■} I's bi hold the justico tind yet tbe ii.ercy of Cod; and tha t.ari of iiim tliat wept— be- 
 c:ar-ie theie was no man to p,tj — crystitll;z.9 on his clieekf, as jewels that sball shiae 
 hereiifter foiever on.tbe bo&oiu of n dec inin,L,' love. Tuou speakest to the lips tUat.are- 
 iiMil witl) bias) hinjy.— and pnrj;ed a-i WiUi hre, ihese lips become melodiwus with words 
 <.f (ji ar;e to uicii iiuii t-(<n:.s < f idory to God. Toon touchest the hands tliat have become 
 io;l with blood ."ud i a d w th tiie hoaidiuj,' of ill jjott' n gain,— and now soft as milk an! 
 wliile as snow, tl.ey are U. s*d by ihe lips o; tboi\;-uuds that were leady tj perish, aud 
 hlys.'^ed as i\ o uicicy-b,inglu;i; palms of au:,'( 1\ fioiu h. av.-n. 
 
 Tiiiu'', O II !y One, is t.io work of b-adiii,' ilio sain past the fires of Sinai, aud ot' 
 iLMiidinL; iiiin to tie saciiiiio con^iiui.ii by ll uoe fires ou tlie loi) of CahMry. At the dist 
 s> I n< , oe kiiovi'jlh. only ten(jr at.d d< spair; at the secou'i, he iindoth hope and peace. 
 
 At ihv^ hrs', 111- gioaitith witii a_'oiiy; at tlai stcoud, he siu;;etli with joy. It is thou 
 tii.it wliisperest iiiU) bis l.eurt the pa-swo:d of poace iu jusuficati(>n, that revcalest tt 
 liiui l!;(^ Iiivi -priviloLit-s «>i' jidojit on, ;:U'i u^ipbesi to Ids soul l:io chausiu;;' water's of 
 saiHtilical.dii. Ev. u so, ill s;e.l On>, t.ie whole oii'jiing of Christ t.) our souls is 
 
 t..iuo, liiiiio il! ji^htd'calioii, jid(jptio: ., :aid sanctiacaliou, — God blcsst-d forever. Amen. 
 
 MlUl" 
 
 K'. 
 
 au/js /wnins/:' 
 
 oil, .' ill! I niri)>:r ('/' ( nn/,—,! /s ,rt' ll,' , i Is ll,i'/ll', Kllii i/x (li-/}/li, — / liilUinl riUHjir, ll! lul iU 
 
 I a 1,1 '/.; -/ utiti' sli-uiijlinij iritli ilif irrii/h.' <if' n nmiiHtdin. 'I'iir llimif/h/ iru-shrK nn: 
 I i/ii:.!' nil t/if uiji'-rr.if ifj^ nhirs j'riiiii r.iij ildor. innl m-r Iml Ih- i-'n-liir/ .7/'/ r/i.s' tlni/ nrf 
 f/i-K'-/: I'tcm ,/.■ Imni/i K diuriol iriinl.'i, i/i> /liri/ nn:!) nrrr /lii/hndt/.': aj uilhiinihxs .ipn-- ■, I 
 
 cliiiili Id I in' I /r.v/ III' llir /iii!''-.<liir — lii'.'--r iiili:i iiriiniid ,iif III'- hill til" rnii'ilrr siihiirlinii /ii/iila 
 
 ,1;' diiil' .: I tl/ii!ll/. I lliillllll U .-hid 11/ liiii : ililll lush il.s fillililcill'J fiilhiiX irilli till' llijlll- 
 
 liil/i/s, hltl lilr sliiinul ol' ll:fs,' rii.siitll lilirrs i.i/IVI/ HII'l. iillllllll lili. I iU'lfsf ilinlllli/ 
 
 Uill/h:ii)K, mill II liilr irnrlils i/iiiir liniini ir.'lli lli'' ir^i-ti'' nl ii;l''-< ii'>' I ./.■-//.' //' ' circiiil. I 
 ''i'i:l I ,V.'t..r .<(,'// ///.'/ .■,'//( 11/ till rirr!j.< of jfirfls lliii! iiLiri! th" ifjifi :<! of irnrrfi.^- 'jii.l/rs. _^j 
 
27 
 
 TJlEJvXOWLKLUE TIJAT ENN(M;L!> MAN". 
 
 j.'u;'t !' Whu 
 i.\; till. a I'l!- 
 (lU jrfiitt^l^t 
 
 )U, au.l witii 
 i\v;iy ()'! r.,il- 
 1 t!ic spriiii,'- 
 hor on t'jKic 
 piaiteil li^'l.t 
 
 OS illl.l (iMl'k- 
 
 u th-irdti- 
 i'()l)i;(l li:rs( If 
 
 er (iust, an 1 
 : !if;r buwo.'-'. - 
 .vin<^' iu:iii ii- 
 )f liii Maker 
 
 Ti'xm breatln 
 
 SlU'UTt (III ot 
 
 Oiti t thai liis 
 
 ot'ev.-riy II u- 
 
 iry's bio ul — 
 
 ; "i'j'>.V, 1 'VH, 
 
 in and insen- 
 
 a lily in tlie 
 
 1'4 and tlieBu 
 
 at wept— be- 
 
 t shall shiae 
 
 lips that. are ■ 
 
 13 with words 
 
 have b -come 
 
 t as milk aiii 
 
 J perish, auJ 
 
 Sinai, and ot" 
 , At the lii st 
 and peace. 
 It is thou 
 
 revcalest t') 
 u^' waters of 
 J our souls is 
 iver. Araeii. 
 
 ■iitupriJi! ltd iU 
 
 i-fllshrK nil'. 
 
 iiiliX ihitl II rf 
 
 I.V sjlit,-'. ! 
 
 (iiiirliini liiilils 
 villi llir li'j/il' 
 rii'ir.sr iiriiiuiil 
 til ■ rirrllit. I 
 
 •■'■"■'■■ i?'-^^-''- A 
 
 E'en conld I strid*.' from Earth In Mars 
 And (jucncli tlio Knnlii.dit with my liand, 
 And grnF)) j,'rcat lirndl'iilp of the sbnrs 
 A'^ one mif^ht gather grains of sand; 
 This were no grand work of the Boul 
 Ni) high criteria ol mind; 
 With giant stature, man — an owl, 
 Might wield such power and still lie blind. 
 
 The grand distinctive of the in'nd. 
 Is power to coni))iehend urd f( el 
 God's work, liiint>elf, — the whole desigived 
 To give it highest scope and weal. 
 Where else can cieatme spirit find 
 Theme so expansive in its sway. 
 To give full scope to soaring mind, 
 And the emotions perfect play ? 
 
 Nor are the mysteries this displays, 
 Alike God's precious boon to all; 
 Some search to underf-tand and praise, 
 Houi" starch to stumble nnd to fall. 
 E'en (Muld my daring mind a^])ire 
 To eliiijh yon dome wliere liuna s<'t?, 
 Where heaven's siiliuiban lutiij s of fiw 
 Liglit wearied pilgrims to her gates. 
 
 And witt» their mysteries fully known, 
 I rake the star-dust with my hands, 
 And i,ago the butti-' ..ses wiiereou 
 The -reat arch of G;dactos stands, 
 Or s'.ian the sword Orion vvdelds 
 And on the scales hi ^ buekler weigh. 
 Or t- il the nrca of tl e fields 
 Wherein Areturus hunts his prey; 
 
 1 iiii!,dit do ail thi'se things and'faif, 
 God'n ))resejiif> in his works to leirn ; 
 Nitt that he doth not in them dwell, 
 But tlii'ough mv blindness to discern. 
 Wjio B(M k lot- God to lovejind T)ray, 
 Shall til i'- Ins precfiiee every wl:ere; 
 Wlio seek fi>i' G,(l to disobey, 
 Shall search in darkness ami desjiair. 
 
 ThougirGod"s i;reat works himself declaro- 
 Ciention, Piovidi ncf , and Graoe; 
 'Tis only faith that sres him there, 
 And cutche-i glin:,[)^es of his face. 
 Ne'er from such eyes the Father hidoa 
 The impress of creative hands 
 In earth and sky, or in the tides 
 Thit peal his anthem on thj sands. 
 
 His foot-prints in December snows, 
 His smile upon the fields in June, 
 HiH breath borne from the fragrant rose,. 
 His aee^iifcs in the song bird's tune; 
 In all t'n'S(' ])hi.-os (idd rev< als 
 Hi.-; gri utiio.ss t.) tiie humble mind; 
 Tlie mole it k.iov s, tlie mure it feels 
 It ^ell ennobled and refined. 
 
 And art and sciencu ply their skill, — 
 Unwittingly, though oft they do, — 
 To make hi'A M-i.'-'.Jom and his will 
 More munife.it lo human view; 
 Aii'1 bo'h Clin teach us much, I v/eeu, 
 Of the grand ioot-sto.>] of his feet, — 
 But noiit;ht of that aik where is seerv 
 Shekiaah on Ids mercv seat. 
 
 .Much cause for wundorment is in 
 The great stones of the temple wall, 
 But he taat serves the Lord within 
 Knows more to wonder at than all. 
 'Tis thoto he learns,, how e'eii a soul 
 ^lay know God's inuld ng aii I admire, 
 Y» t of the Builder of liie wIkjIc, 
 ^fe.y know but litlh , les..^ ihiiie. 
 
 O niy Great Fatlier I 1. 1 me be 
 A luuublo leari.e:' a: t'ly fui t; 
 And while, in all, 1 '.'.orhip ih'O, 
 Teaeii me the Kno \le i;.,e 1. :'t ij meet 
 
2K 
 
 DOTH GOD ANSWEIf niAYElI ? 
 
 
 ':\l 
 
 (J"(l iloth iiiili-ed io:j,'n in awl'iil stato. Tho nniverficis his kinijilftm, the heav^ni 
 are liia tlirouo, an<l tho (arib is Ins fo •t^o'il. lit rulcth Hio ariuiori ot hoaven and ahu 
 the inlmbitants of tl;t' faith. JJut who i-. tliib thai wmihl porsnaiio mf, tliat he roletli 
 v/iii a h«'iirt of nton'' nnd uitli a Fcpptre of iron— aii'l tliat it is vain t ) ]>ray ? lir-tli 
 (i<j 1 (liiis !i li.rit, ( f s'oiic — vvliy tluni I'in lie civf* mo tliis licart of IihhIi, tlint will lemi, 
 laid ciinot lulf) li'imiiv? on him, unst^iig in i;iiii, inul Keckiu!,' liiH aid, in the day of dis- 
 tre.-K I If l.c liatii no enrn to Ikjiii- ni". \v!i\' did iio j^ive me the e lips to cry to liini ? 
 
 If Ii:' ' ; li : I) lieait to h(dp me — why did lie j;ive nie this neiise of dependence, th's 
 hop , anii t,lii> m.^tinct to olin^ to him ? ' W iio hath i-p tuned the void between hiiuseit 
 and iny si ul wiih bolts and bars of inHexil)!" lasv and itu|)a-sible fat', why ilitl he en- 
 don- mi' With this persisient pronenei-s, tl.is brsfttintj weakness of continually bruisin); 
 my soni a;,Minst these ^teel baiiieis. and of \a'nly tumbling in prayer for a key with 
 wuiih to unlock tbcm ? If I am tie piis-oier of iron law and inexorable fate, wliydid 
 he not j,'ive me a natuie iliat would be content with its cuains ? If bo is to hide liiin- 
 Ktlf in tternal sodnpion, and wa'k forever in the thick darkness, and with an iron wall 
 shut out my prayers — why, O why, did he create me with this lantaliznj^ desire to find 
 him ? Be^nno far liom me ! j e mockcrri of prayer and a*, ostlea of iron necessity — 
 
 I know that God leureth me when T cnll on hiin. He is around me everywhere, and 
 he maketh my Fonl liis . mple. The earth is covered with his footprints, and I see tho 
 impress of his finsrcrs on all thing's. Who is bo tlist sliall persuade me, that in vain — • 
 sinner tbonjrh I anj— do I cry to him, and call him luy Father ? liy wljat link or chain 
 of molecidar l:iw is lie bound not to Jii-ar and answer his child ? Are his eyes and ears 
 sealeil, and are bis lands tifd by the tiny strings that bind to<:et];er the atoms of terres- 
 trial dust, and which the Ijnbes of our earthly laboratorie,-', f lilin',' to loose, declare to be 
 inexorable V Away, ^iM'ay, yc tons of sophism ! God tied together the atoms of 
 
 phys-ical m.itter by thi-so strings that you cannot unravel, but he did not bind with 
 liiem iiis own bands, nor yet the free spiiits ot ni^n. He that tiethtlms may loose 
 
 ■when he jileastth Away, av.ay, with your inb!iie wi-rk of sopliistry ; it shall never 
 
 be aroiiMcl my loni a pribon-hou e of d< Sjiair. Ho thai puinted the lilies t>f the field, 
 <l<.th niitfoase nov/, [>> care (or t';eni,an ! Uike pi' a uro in the'r beauty. He that cre- 
 ated the sparrows lioth not coa-e now to llu^e p. t a^ule in ti;eir S(mfr, or to open his 
 hand and feed them. He t ,.it created man in !iis own image, and gave liiiu pow- 
 
 ers to love and enjoy tlie Cie.il a', still looks at, und cares tor that imagi , and still 
 1 nv(>s^ r>very avenuo of inleicourss open, by wlncU tho human soul may have full scope 
 for all it.-i sinlesrt instin.'ts and d 'sires, nn 1 enjoy luil co.umunion witli its Maker. 
 
 Evo'iK), njy itoui, trust tliou in God. Call upon him in the day of trouble, and he 
 will jiear thee. 'Delight thyselt in God and he shall give thee the desires o: thine 
 
 heart.' 
 
 An echo of tuu above. 
 
 Let fot)ls ai d iufulels protend. 
 My 2vlakLr will not bu my ir.end, 
 Li' iiulii me to attain an enu— 
 DichS Goa ! it's nut Uic \ eiity. 
 
 Gud is aiouiid me every wlieie — 
 A fiieiid ju I. very toil an. I ra. e, 
 'lu whom i cdii approach in piayer 
 Aud mce: with uo asiienlx. 
 
 Betwem my heart .'.ndGod above. 
 No law can bind hut that of love: 
 ill all luy mstmcts, thus i move 
 With Jreedo'ii aud dexterity. 
 
 His helping hand is ever nigh 
 To ciowu tue labours I ajiply, 
 And guide anel shield me till I die- 
 lu thickness or prosperity. 
 
 And wl en on t arLb u.-y race i :. mn, 
 I\l_\ taol^ coiii[di.te, my vu:toi';; woi;," 
 I'll see my Maker as tiii; hun 
 In rndiant ^race and idiarily. 
 
2B 
 
 1, tbc heav.»Ti<? 
 oaven and nUn 
 tlmt be roletli 
 ray ? {{.".t'l 
 tlint will lemi, 
 the (lay of di:<- 
 i> cry to him ? 
 ependence, tips 
 tween liiinselt 
 why (lid ho an- 
 nually bruiHini^ 
 or a key witli 
 e f'atu, whv<lid 
 is to hide hitu- 
 tb an iron wall 
 1^' desire to find 
 •on necessity — ■ 
 /erywhtro, and 
 1, and I see the 
 that in vain — 
 It link or chain 
 8 eyes and ears 
 itoiusot'terres- 
 e, declare to be 
 er the atoms of 
 not hind i,vith 
 thus may loose 
 ; it shall never 
 es of the field, 
 Ho that cre- 
 >r to open bis 
 ;ave hitu pow- 
 11111:' , and still 
 i)ave full scope 
 ts Maker, 
 trouble, and be 
 lesires o:' thine 
 
 hove, 
 ve: 
 
 IVO 
 
 Y- 
 I 
 
 Idie- 
 
 fA^TH KOLOGICAL I'AliAItLE. 
 
 A certain king had ix viiH'v.vrJ, uiid ilosiijurr f,, hjivo it well cared fn-, he lot it Mti 
 to vinedrcssftrs who imntii-^cd \vi h all dr.o caif to kci-]) it cloiin find prodiiclivc. Al'ltir 
 a wliile, in the vine sta'-cii, lie went t > i-co l.U viiieyiird, hut found tho wlndc jtlu •« 
 piicli a mass Oi hramhles and tlii>tli)«, t':iit ]\o iu-itmlly cidlfd hi-t viii('<lii's.si'rs to iic- 
 count and dismissed tliein. Kxc e.liiii,'ly t,'rievr'(l t(t find his vin.'yard in suc'i a state, 
 and liKjking round liiiii for s< iwi viniMir^is.scr of skill lunl fiiithfuhu-ss to .-lean his vImo- 
 yanl and njako it once nio:e pntluctivc, he sfut tor an old int.n niiniod I'ahi'^iiii. w! 
 
 Ml 
 
 bud 
 
 Had pome noioiwty ni tnoKi- pats 1 r cuanin^' vineyinis in a cheap and expedition* 
 manner. Pala'^ins undertook to (lem it tor a aur.it. So the next moniing on en- 
 
 tering his viiif yard t!:e king f und I'id ujiu-; h;id iicen there with an old scythe, an 1 ha 1 
 cropj)! d oil' all the heiids <>': sedli'ig pa Ih < f the thistles mri hmnibleH, leaving the liran- 
 ches and stalks untouched. V. xed at tli 3 slovenly wmkof the o!d ni<i;, the king at 
 once callt d liim to his piesiiice and oideri d bini to do hiij work moio tli imu'^hly. 
 
 The old man stoutly aflirmcd tint it was ag linst his piinoiplcs to touch aiiy oth'T 
 part of the plants thaii just tie iioad or seel, that all sin c )n5isted in mendy acts or 
 their consefiuences, and tiiat in his opiuiou tlrs vineyard wa^now (^uito clean. 'How- 
 ever', be said, 'he had a grands-ou Arminius — born of a daughter of Iji- own and a Dutch- 
 man — wdu)se ideas of wee is and of sin were diirerent from hi-* own, and w1i(K(> piasticu, 
 he thought, would probably suit th ■ k'ng better.' So the obi man, having gone, 
 
 sent his grands(ni. wlnj with a hoe dug or scratche 1 out every pnrt o[ t'lo weed •, root, 
 stem, and branidi, except such of the liner or deeper r-ot'^, dilfieu't to reach, which ho 
 called infiru)ities of the flesh, natur.U temperament, o'- weakness, and whicli, be said, 
 were nor really of the nature of sin o.' nncleanuefis. Having then gatliered all the rub- 
 bish together in a pile and b:u"ned it, he was paid and depart. -d. Ho had not goiio 
 however many days, till it wa^ found t!:at all theirs tin r and de.?pnr rojts of intinnitv 
 contained vitally all tli'j petnicioui properties of their res]»ectivo vvee^ls, an I t'lat the, 
 whole gi'ound was being rapidly overgrown wiih ai gr-'at a ma^s of thistl 's and 1) ram- 
 bles as was in it b fore, anil that uU the vinoM were dying froji lack of room and no'ir- 
 ishnient. Disgusted witii tlii-; sup'rtii;iil mode of dtjing things, the king re (jlvod in 
 eeiid tor a vinedr-'sser of some note at a distanc:', Uie practice of ^vho n — thou.di not ve- 
 ry jioiiubir ill tiicse parts — be had rea-;oa to l)alievo was much more effjctive. Acaord- 
 in.i.dv iie despaiehed a servant with inslructimis to bring Augustine of Ta caste in Africa, 
 or failing to i'et him, to f'toii soijie other that had s.^rvod an apprentice dn]) under the 
 ajiosties, and that liad a tboroi'.gh kiuiwleilge ofthe j» (d'es«-iun. Augustine coul 1 n it 
 come bimsell, but told the servant, to gi t C;.lviu uf Geneva, who hsd learned iiis art fro 11 
 t' e a)iostlo:S in the sumo way as bimseif, an I who was ve y elfoetive and relialdo in all 
 bis work. <Jalvin at once eoncnte.l to come, and brougjjt with him a vtuy long i^os- 
 p(d ^llade and a veiy bin sieve or puriiier v.b.'c'j, Im siid; had l)Ot ii han(,l'!d ilovai fro a 
 till- a]iftllc-i tliemselves. llavin^'told ti,ek;n,' on his arrival tint th'Ugh tu' 'vofi of 
 <;;euinig wa< a thing of tiiuf, iie wou'd luvertlKdes^ sho'.v Idin t le way of liaviMgit tbo- 
 loMgiily or ( fftctivtly diuie, a'ld tiiftt all (jther methods of cleaning were su}»erljcial au(i! 
 inelLetive, as they siill b ft soin'^ veniaiiLs ( f t!ie we.'ds in t!ie soil. He at once tunu- 1 
 overeveiy part of iho s)il do-vn to tii'^ roclx, wit:i Ids lon_; epa le; and having ciri'tull/ 
 sii'ti d or puriiiel it, and provided suirici.nt room ani nourisliment tor the vine=, b ■ tol 1 
 tlie king iliat tins tri.-atment was to be continued from yeai' to year t.ll all tin w.'eds 
 were purged out, and that in acccu'danee with t!;edil'!,'eiice used in thi-; treatm^nt, hi< 
 vines would coniuine t) in;prove and Houvisli. The icsult of all tiiis was an a-ton- 
 iBJiiig improvement in the vin(;y.'<rif, anii ihe.d«lightt'd king lias(ner since |irotilt';<J Ij.v 
 ■<Jalvin's insti'uetioiH,— his viii -s liecoming ;ro:n ye,ir t .^ y*J.i>' more nrnli'jiivu. 
 
 Ex[il!iin this iheolujical [la'aidv. 
 
 ,■ . ...I 1 
 
:«U 
 
 :i. 
 
 [ 
 
 ' * 
 
 A f, ikI iiiiiii'.^ iKiisr'ciiiL' is li ^il>(;el• of jiuitcr; aii'l it ; hkiij; Ik just tbo rcliiin ccLott* 
 li .->:ii u Mnil tliut Iids iiiitii lijirmiii\iz'-(l into iipnco with (iul ami iiViii. Evi'iy liuiiiiiu 
 anp-icienff is niiiuwliiit (..it dl tnnt'; l)ut in tln-^'ooii mtvii in union with ChriKl -tor uv- 
 ny iKitf tiiiit is siliiit ill- m discinl — tiu-ro cviiiellj an tciio 'Voiu GctliKeniune or Culvii- 
 ry, II. lit lillitli into tlie tane; ami Oil ! llio Kong in Bwent. f c«Ji conceive of no lii,L;Ii- 
 er lil»)ss(<tu(iSH t.iun tluit ol'a tmly ijood niim, ciaik"! on the hosoiifof CUiist, an I snn;» 
 t" reposn l)v tlic ifctuni eel oes of (hiivavV: ami tbn Hoft jiii<,'lin;.f5i of a (onw inu'ts tlia'^^ Inn 
 1)1 en el;aii uii uml inni'ii liy tbo iur/Mrt of lediirniinfj love. Kv<n the thninlws o' S nai 
 cliinie into that kw( at strain, 119 a-ivit^lodiouR bas.>-. uud tln^ soul fw.rB m'iiher tin' li^lit- 
 nai^'K nor tlie cnvsc.-iv 
 
 I5nt the rouK'.ifnco nnpurppU hy tl.i' Wlooil of Christ, can stiiif,' like 11 H(! )rpioii'ail(l 
 hurn hke lip)l-tiH*. Mon luuden iu'Senr il, hastfi; on it ^h« hiiden c!iu.iiis of lii»t, and 
 think they havo pnt out tliu eyes uf tlie giant and siioiii it of iiH strength. Th«n thev 
 i-!iy to iJieii S' ul-, ent, ilnu.'v. nnil he nieny.onr enciuy will niaUe sport to ns — when lo ! 
 tliiK Sanisoii. l),»\vii g liitnsi if with all his iiiij,'ht, hvuleth down on their liiiailH the pil- 
 lars, the <;:ilieries, .".ml the covei in;,', of their evil deeds with such tiiry, that deukh is 
 elio'fn rather tiiaii li(e, and a li> 11 in elerniry rather thsa one in tiuiic 
 
 Mark tlii.t murderer, as withcniilion lie npproarh'js his victim. 'Strike not,'saith 
 God, Tor whdK'iver bheddtth maiiV hlood,hv mim sh.-iH ]ii« lihu'd bo siicd.' 'Strike 
 
 ■ioi','saith Jimn,'for I will pni'ipli tlue with iho yildiet.' '[ ii'ilbwr fear God nor regard 
 ii);iii,'iei»lietli the mnrdeiev.Mbeie tlir»ats shall notsavtf hitu.' 'Stvikt; not,' saith con- 
 K icme, 'J will make thtf blood of thi.s man oy tolnaven apfainst thoe, fliul I will make 
 tliee it tenor and a pmiishirjcnt to tiiyself.' 'HoU; thy peac '.''refijio,. iv..h the miirdi-r- 
 iT,"tl oti tenor of children ai:il hti'jhear of lo'ils — wdt thou tell on iiij?' 'Nay,' stiitu 
 lonNcii ncb,'hut thun shalt tell on thyself.' Ha I ha. ! repiieth the imirderer, and lie 
 
 • <M 111 his wny. Toe deed is iK^m-. liaik, hear iiitu mutt r. as ho turnelli uwjw, 
 
 M iieuihle; wiiy this tinster, this strange terror, this weakness; it will suh.side so)U.' 
 
 But it dotli not subside. It is the oppressive hush before the Hlorin, the rising of 
 the cloud no hi^^tjer tbim a man's hand tbf.t Kathrreth hlacknoss and lury, and is 
 frtighteil with tie nmnusrer's doom. He seeketb secifcy, but the rocks and the tre-s 
 canii' t hide him. — a place of sufety, hut huhiidtth no city of refu<,'e, lor the foot of tiie 
 avenger isa.ter hiui. 'Hast tl on fi uud me. O mine enemy ? O conscience ! thou 
 fillest me with ayoiiy Jind makfst me a t'Hror to myself. I cannot rest. TJif^ bio d 
 of my biother critth fiioni the ground when in i buried hi-* dead body. Yes, I buried 
 it lest other eyes should su'j it, hut 1 (MMuot bury it fioni niy own. I was afraid le-t 
 
 his deatli-ciijd "^honld w.-ike tt:e echoes of tlie hills iviul woodn, but they aroused echoes 
 ill my heart that cia^e not ni^bt or I'ay. 1 was afraid that others would ecrt his dyincj 
 tuce; but I .«aw it mys* If, and it haumetb me everywhere. It reproacheth me from 
 
 the ground when I wi.litby the way; it looketh over luy sliouhler wnile I eat, and suu- 
 plicateth mo again Ibr pity when I close my eyes to sleep. O why did 1 shiy him ! 
 
 and now that he is dead, why will he not rest in ids grave ? Blood, blood, is overy- 
 wher«i ! I huiell it in my food, I taste it in my drink; my appetite forsaketh me; I live 
 u| on hltod. O my secret ! what will I do with it ? it humtth my soul; it swelletli 
 
 within me till I camiut contain it. I dare i.ot tell it to my father or mother— no, nor 
 to the wile of my hofoui; si;e would Finiinme froiuher brtu-t. It is ever in my 
 
 thoughts and ever at the root of my t' ii .nu.-. I have to guard my lips with iron chains 
 lebt ibcy hpeak it. It will kili me. 1 ;..ow Itniier ai.d weaker from day to day. It 
 piirsi:etli me ly day likt- a hra-st of pie.y, ftiui fiikrtii luy midniyht dreams witij horror. 
 Tie fipirit ot the dead will not rcbt; it haunteth me daily and cu'.leth for my bli»od. 
 
 Hell gathers nightly her legious aioiir.d my i.illow; they dance around my bed to 
 the music of the dying mans greans, and drink bumpers to my Leultii in tlio blood that 
 Bpuits from his arteries. I mutter and talk of the dead in my sleep, aud scare my 
 
 wife and cbildicn with my niyhtmares and talks of blood, Couscience, Oon- 
 
 Bcsencc I svilt thou have no pity ? Wilt thou make nay own logs drag mo to the jadg- 
 Tnent seat, and my own lips bear testimony to my guilt ? Conscience, mine 
 
 »CCU6er ! 
 
 haflt none 
 and punisl 
 from any ( 
 mark upor 
 my crime 
 er eoafie to 
 iiioi^Btt mi 
 
»ccusr»r ! tLuu kiiowt?Mt no y'liy. T '.:h1 tji. piiv ..n the iI^'.tiI— iiocu T Wundei that \\\<m 
 haflt none on me. Pity is not tbine ullirp. Thy work in the human hretRt iiitc- warn 
 luid puniBb, ii'>t to condone the evil dcfih r I men. What right have I to look for pity 
 Iriim any one, I can havononn upon niyolf. T nm Cain, and the Tiord hatli net hi* 
 mark upon me. There can ho n<> I'-Kt tn '-•v f'>et and p^ace to my soul, till I conf^ta 
 my crime and let the sword of jnsfic" hi' diivi n in^o my hreast. Then Khali the aveng- 
 er ceafie to pursue me, and my hmoI hliall Hnd rest tioin the grave. Lot me gu now and 
 I'doi^sB my orimct' 
 
 Thk skvnii: i\ ti;mi'T.\tion. 
 
 ITi>\v mad is tiie tVlly. 
 
 How nviiA is tiif sill 
 A))sorhin^ im- wholly. 
 
 Without and williiii. 
 yiy l.piiit i - "oirupttid 
 
 And do< )ily di'pruved, 
 My way iiit ■I'liipt,*"^ 
 
 ^ly Kpivit ( II laM'd. 
 
 And good. It SI lilt oiis 
 
 I lVci|Ufiil ;y lualvu, 
 Whic'ii ii-l>itil ludliititnis 
 
 Soon load lilt; tt> bnak. 
 L monri), and witli sa InosR 
 
 h('ek patii( 11 aiid [>^ace; 
 I think ot my uiadnebs 
 
 Andwish U would c'l-aso. 
 
 Alta I unaviiihi<,', 
 
 The^e efforts ot Vv-IH; 
 Corrnptions iu-d^itHiu^ 
 
 O'er master uiis htill. 
 O Lord, may thepe leflsone 
 
 T\Io (ic'iily i.jjpiess; 
 Ami fjive thou tijo presence 
 
 And power of ^r ace. 
 
 Throtij^di Christ in c 'mpasFiou 
 
 Me siii'coiu' and siwi"; 
 Me purify, lash ion, 
 
 Such as thou woiiMst bnve. 
 ThroUf,'h liifo's troubled fever 
 
 Let guidance bo given, 
 Then take me forever 
 
 To praise t.'iee iu heaven. 
 
B2 
 
 THE FRIENDS OF LONG AGO, 
 
 ^i 
 
 \j prec'ous fiieiids oi' former days. 
 
 Thoiif^li many a mile a]>art, 
 Tlif) roll of time will no'er era?e 
 
 Yoiii lufiuoiics from my lieait: 
 Our i«f;v<M({l iiathway wheJi it cmla 
 
 Will jdiii :m;:ii), I know; 
 My fiiiihl'ul rtineli L^l(!vecl IVitnus 
 
 Oi tut! lotif,', loi;g a^o. 
 
 *riic li e of till those faded ytars, 
 
 I never can iorpret; 
 Oft in my diedsns it all appears, 
 Distinct and <,'lowinjr yot. 
 Attended with your love and caro, 
 
 I Rhared your weal or woe. 
 A happj' brotherhood we were 
 
 In the long, long ago. 
 
 Together to tlie'scliool or Fair 
 
 AVitli lighti-ome hfiirts we went; 
 ^D^tlh' r at tie Li u.-t of piayer, 
 
 Ikiure the Lord we hent. 
 I shared your every hope and fear. 
 
 And lov»>d you n!l, I kni'W; 
 And e'er will do bo, brethien dear, 
 
 Of the long, longjago. 
 
 Around the fire on winter nights 
 How fast the moments flew; 
 
 NViien Summircaine wirh her deligh's 
 How Bwe -t the joys we knew. 
 
 )t Ecems all like to yeeteiday — 
 So clt ar Bo bright the gloW) 
 
 though forty years have passed away 
 
 Since the loug, loiig ago, 
 
 .« " ■ — — 
 
 Amrn!7 thG"fih=aierst;<f c;". ■ joys 
 
 And h'lpers in our play, 
 ilovf many that we knew as boys, 
 
 Now moulder in the'clny. 
 I'eace to their ashes ! let a tear 
 
 Of sweet remembrance flow)'; 
 Alive, Ihcy in our dreams appear, 
 
 -'^nd iu the hm" a'^o. 
 
 You most be growing old I knoAV-, 
 Your locks are mixc^d with gray; 
 Yqui- stei>s are not so lithesomo now 
 
 As ihcy were once aday; 
 But your hearts arc as warm and true 
 
 For more Christ-like you grow, 
 As in tlie (■'nvR, so well we knew, 
 Of the ion„', long ago. 
 
 How quickly speed the years away, 
 
 Time too is marking me; 
 I am not quite »^) strong to-day 
 
 As oiior; I used to ba. 
 But my heart has » youth as gay— ^ 
 
 Its love as warm a glow. 
 For the dear friends now far away, 
 
 As in the loag ago. 
 
 'Mid all the pressure of my cares, 
 
 And all the thin;,'^ I sue, 
 I still thinkof you inmy prayer.s; 
 
 I 'm sure you th nk of me. 
 And when our life's probation ends, 
 
 Our work on tarih below, 
 No more to part, will meet the friends 
 
 Of the long, long ago. 
 
 *Tis true our means may not afford 
 
 Us many meetings here; 
 The patfcis aspigned ns by the Lord 
 
 Arc tlistajitin their sphere. 
 But in ttiat higher lioly phice. 
 
 No more wJll part, I know. 
 And iind e'en far more happiness 
 
 ^f'Laa in the long ago. 
 
 There shall we see our glorious Lord 
 
 And praise hisjholy name; 
 We serve him here with one accord, 
 
 Tn heaven we'll do tho same. 
 There, one by one, around his feet, 
 
 His gatherinq[ children flow, 
 To form on(j household iillcjmi>!d.3 
 
 Frotn the long, long ago. 
 
 No sin or sickness will be there. 
 
 No weakness, woe, or pain, 
 And praise will take ?he place of prayer, 
 
 Ami happiness, of pain. 
 In tliat land, free fiom all distress 
 
 (^f heat, or frost, or mow. 
 Willi Jioaits brinj-lid of bajp nus. 
 
 We 'II thiuk of loijj: a''o. 
 
 
:T»a 
 
 TO A BUNCH OF HEATH EK. 
 
 'JJouniu' buuh ui Ijljoiiiiny Ijcatlx r, 
 Nurtiueci '" Li y imtive hills, 
 
 Hnvf we exiles cuiiii' lu;L,ctlu-)' ? 
 
 Hmw luy iienrt with ■welconii' tlniUs ! 
 
 lihickl' n-il iiiiinsioii sliiiiiii:: Ki'iiiiVi:^ 
 8l);i\H'ii l;i\vir> iiiiil (-limly bnwci's; 
 
 Oo^^v Immosttiuls Finiliii'^ Miiudly 
 J 11 th'jir ncKts (if trees iiuil tlowurw. 
 
 Well I know wliete tlnju wert nourished — Wa^^cli upoii ilteir inniakM ktvpiii!.', 
 
 SSunuy bank of 'biiiuie' view — TImu niist ivm ke I tlmir lif -> bclo.v, 
 
 Nuar theebuHjui and 'kiKmp'rt.s'.flouri.shcd,S;'ei, l^oiti sowiii;:. sfcn tlK-iu refiji.n;, 
 
 ■Tjl'lilll*) !• 1 
 
 A:id tliG lich 'blaeberries' grew 
 
 Ncar'tbe^', uu the 'braf's' toficUn'r 
 
 Gitw the (.'roves of larch an ! piuo; 
 Tell me hunch of 'bui.iue' iuatlu-r. 
 
 Are they us ihey were 'Isiu^^syue'? 
 Fr-ii^runt hea:libeilH, 1 have wondtied, 
 
 Would I know your tcenta^ain; 
 Thiity years havti \vu been 8i.ndertd; 
 
 It in long, and long eince then. 
 
 Toolish notion i well I knew ir: 
 
 WaR I likely to forgot, 
 When in yontli J gambolled thidUgh it. 
 
 In yon ranibl 'd ear' and lute? 
 'Bonnie'blooni, in summer liaunted 
 
 By the beea that camo to laste; 
 -O'er thep hi;,d) the 'laverock' chiiniiid, 
 
 Near t]i"i; Imilt her grassy ne-,t.' 
 
 Thou haat n(i»!d -d with her pressuro. 
 
 When sho drop]ied to sip the dew; 
 -Ik'Pii rewarded with tiie measure 
 
 NV)ii<h she Haiig bcfoiu she Hew. 
 Thou liast iieardtho 'mavis' cliantiug, 
 
 Down at sunsfct in the dale, 
 lliard the 'cushat' in the '; 
 
 Cooiu;,' (<» htu- mate her^tale. 
 
 plantuij^ 
 
 Ileanl at niglitrall in the foreland, 
 
 (Joineraiks liumpet 'mi<l th^ grain 
 'lVe,->w< ops', in the ditjlant moorland, 
 
 W.irn off foes Irom th fU' domain; 
 II(ard the eiickou's eai'ly greeting 
 
 Wake the eehoesof the glade.s, 
 .And the paitiidgt) diuinmiug, hc-atiug, 
 
 Mear ihee m tuo loaly shade*; 
 
 Keen tlio hares and rabbits saunter 
 
 Forth at night to nip the gr.iin, 
 'Wate.liod tliem frolic, ju.np, and caut>U', 
 
 iloiind thea in iln'ir own douiain. 
 On my native Bkickund valley. 
 
 Thou luibt looked down all thy days, 
 ^WiiOie ho many beauties rally 
 
 Ivjjind the windiu.; 'burn' .i;) 1 •■jr.'ij.';' 
 
 ^) I li their seasons come ai d 
 
 a. (11 their life «'n all o-'/asiu-.n. 
 
 Marked their i;l;uiiie>s and their wot 
 Bndrtl tioops uiiil Bail pi;cesstfr,:s 
 
 'Jo tl;v' graveyard triili-ig biow. 
 Tinm makes havoc, lini-M^st anges — 
 
 'Bonnie' lieathhelb, tell me true, 
 Are there are tl'.e: e rnany charjgcs '/ 
 
 Live there many that I knew ? 
 
 Is t!:ere ;iny that has pandered 
 
 To had habits, vice, and crime ? 
 Are there many that have wandered 
 
 Like niypelf, to loreign cliiue !' 
 'Moiig tiie jdayiuatea of my cliildho rd. 
 
 Heird you any sjieak of ui" ? 
 Anil of rambles in the wildwood, 
 
 Ii! the days tiiat used to V.j '/ 
 
 'Uon-iie lounie' bunch of lie.'ither, 
 
 These are friends 1 "11 ne'er forget, 
 Tiioui^h fir travelled, liitlier, thither. 
 
 My old hijart clings lo them yet. 
 There are ties so sToiig, lomantie, 
 
 Tlut long dihtanC'^ more > luleais. 
 And the storms of the Atlaniie 
 Will not'Snap in thiity years. 
 
 •Bonnie' heathd)ells. yel unfold rue 
 
 One more secret you ean show; 
 More tl'aii aught, else you Lure to!,! me. 
 
 It wiMild please my iK'eit to know. 
 Do ;uv playmates h)vo the baviour 
 
 Willi obi:dient teaits ai;d true. 
 In their speecli and their beliaviour, 
 
 Bearing witness that they <lo ? 
 
 Do tliey '? then we'll iiuet in i,dory. 
 
 SiiouLl \Vf ne'ei' m>.eL here again. 
 Won t it b' a pleasant story 
 
 Wo bha I tell each r.V.ndV iheii ? 
 'Bonnie' lieatii-bv-Us, no v I "11 leevo yoi' 
 
 And louuiba'jk wheii I liase Uuie. 
 8t,iy with niu and \!..ii.^' .,;!ieve \mi;, 
 
 Lhioiii. ut. iu our native cliiiie. 
 
FAi'i'H ii.Lrsri;.\Ti:j! 
 
 []'■> i'.isVi:R i.\ m-p,r>L'is'fi ni'^SFTTiNf; sin: — 
 
 Mi'iiicr iiiiti 
 iviim a jiuriliiti ; i 
 
 lif ti)i tic; nil ]:']=: !U'i;lil)uiir's I'staie rnpiilly witlioi'in,!,' .mil dy- 
 il, -wliile ou liis t)wii liiiil iliev continue ti> ''low aiul ilouri-^li 
 
 witii nniiliiit' <1 stri'i'ijiii. Jli- ask-^ iii 
 
 so (Sean wink-' nuui 
 
 iiitiuuu 
 
 to 1 
 
 le a« luuc 
 
 i)b■,mr.'Wl■^ is it tliat your farm uas bcodir.r- 
 
 n liotlieil i)f weeds us ove:' '/'' 
 
 Ah 
 
 plies lii-^ frienil.'iniiin is a v(»rv simple seci'et. All wlioein my T)1iui dift'iM's from yoiir-^, 
 is just,, iliat wlii'e 1 mow (ilftMn heads of my we-^l-i as y m do, I tiko goo>l cai'c; to yivc 
 id' till! stumps a ^.'ood spiiiikiini? with t!u! salt of fairli. That kilis tiieir,. Th'^ more 1 
 I'liik to (jod ai.d imsl ih his power t<) k 11 tiicm. the faster they die. Yon trn«t ton iinicii 
 ill t!u' lin;iutii mean's, I trust most in God's siip«'i .vttural power. There is the ditlVi- 
 t'lice. B- snre t(j >alt your Ktnmps witli f lidi.' 
 
 M hen Pfi'^r was ril {-used from crisoii bv the an;^' 1, it was^ o dy wiien he yo'. up 
 avid depailed tnnii I he prison, t':at he re. illy b-ft his chains behind him. So it is only 
 wiieu tlio Chi'iR'iiiii tl* es from the prisim-buuse ofimbelief, t'lat lie real) v leaves t le tVt - 
 Irtvs of his concpierins: sins Ixdiind Iiim. It is veiily the saiUf anj.'e!-toncn (d' 'aiih '.vhicli 
 releas-s the sinner from tlie punishmeni ol th" la » , that debvwrs bim from t'le letter-^ of 
 Ids sins. 
 
 OUI! I'AITH IS OIVKN TO SUl'POitT U;', NOT TO nUr.DKN US.- A lUiin s! nil,' lin ,' ill 
 
 tlie water is lajiidiy drowniu'j; so a l),\st iiidtr on tin; shore tlin'j;s hini a liU; b.ioy. 
 
 'VUv drownin;,' peisoii snatches the lite buo ; eatcerlv, but l.o!din;< it n[> <aii of th « wa- 
 tvr, il d je8 him no fiood. 'Alas, alas ! "lu; cries, '[ am (ifowniio,', tlji-; hie buoy do?3 n it 
 i-uv.' me.' 'Yon fool,'cri''H the bystander, 'why don't yon nstv>onr lif : buoy '?' 'All 'I 
 «hj use it', says lie, 'see I hold it in my hand but it do.'s not h.dp me. A'l ! [ am drown 
 111!,', diOAiiiuj^ ! ' "VvHiy man ,«ays his 1rifjid,'yiiu no not use it at all as it shonl 1 le use I; 
 )uit it under your arms and yon will lind that it will support you.' S • h : Jolhtws l.j.s 
 b«ii factoi's advicf', lei^duM the shore, an 1 is saved, To dujieail (jn our ;,'iasp of (Jhi'isi, 
 is eNhausfiu},': tu depend on his ludd of n-, is reliev;!!;,'. i^'aitii is j^ivm not t > burden, 
 but to support — noo to exhaust, but to str'.ii^'tlnn. 
 
 So wrrit faith's I'ltoMisiis. A [uonise is armour, — put it on, and you ar • safe; or 
 a lile bo.it, — juni)) into it, an I yo \ wi 1 tint. Yo i do not project the armour — it pro- 
 tects ynu; nor float the b >at — it Hoat- yo;i. 
 
 AoAIN, KAlTli's PK6.\lt3KS AKR STRiOXl JTill-jVING KOOD, IN I'KN'Dr.D TO »!•: KATKN AND INCOR- 
 POUATKl) INTO Till'; BODY — lUJT SOMK IM'.USONS USK THKM StMl'LV AS A TALISMANIC CHAK.M. 
 
 \ physician observing,' oiie of his u-ij,'hlinnrs in a vor,' deiiiliiat^'d stat.3 of hnrdtli, re- 
 marks ene day mi me' tin'^' liim, 'Friend yin ilna't; Inok w 1'.' He replifs, 'indeed f do 
 imlffel well, ami I am f^rowin,' weiker every da,.' Wh yes, I kp<i'.v 'say-;t,ie doctor, 
 'and yoi] will n n'er g^t s'ron.'c.' till you ^i-t so.ue tonic-;. S^'c here .''.re miKtiU'tt;, which 
 you arc to use ac-ordinu' to written direction-;. Tliey will thorou'^^lil ,• itnovate your .sys- 
 tem Mid drive <df the bile which is clo<,'!;iiig it.' So the two separate. Alter a few days 
 the doctor again meets a ;d hails his pati ■ii'','iToi.v t i-lay?' 'No bt tt'^'r, doct )r, no bo'- 
 tei'. 'Why that is str,iii:,'e ! I) i yo i u-e m/ mxturc'i ?' '[ do use t'lem, doctor, I 
 smell th''m and rub thoiii (m to iny liver every d.av'. 'H;it do you swallow tliem ?' '0 
 lUar no ! Siv, th.at would he presumption'. ' ^Vhy, yo i sill , iackda a', you ne.dect the 
 vopy use for which they were given yon — they are to h" s.valiowed t<i give t uiy and 
 tti' ii'jtli to your sy>t'^m". In tois way, immv weak believers h mile tne prie.uises. 
 Th-yadmire them with t!,e mind, liu' do not a[ijn'opnit' toem wthtUe iiea t, 
 I'AiTif A i;';TrKi' DKi.iVKitKU i'"Ro.\i i>;-:si'viit Viixy, ci i >d woiiKs. 11 id t le f i no h hoy 
 o! lia I ,1 lo IIolliul b 'en lilve ina ly, wh >\n w- mi;lit 'xp ct to 1> ' wis 'r, — in>t'ad of 
 o'ajipiiiu; iiisli'ind i n that; hole in the .'-luice tiirougii wh ch the wat-r t'i';ld-d, he would 
 lia\eriiii home to his latuer and liis in-ighbours, tuid tol i t leiu to Ituihi lU'U'o wiiubniils 
 lis fa t a^ theyc ml l to i)iimi) the wat.;r wit'i. (U' t'.i.' eiiutry wo dl ei> tlo ule l. B it 
 no, that b((y did a wiser thing: h'-- ]t it his oan l o:i rh ; hole an l sro|>p ■ I i le tlo d. 
 jMany snincu'i--, buil 1 the winlmill of good wo. ;c-i au 1 viinlv slrive m i.ieiv owu st;o igth, 
 to drain tl.oir licirts of tiio d -spair wliic'.i is tlo .ding tii in. Met'er at op.je to clap the 
 liand of f.'iith on t!ie hole ■>\' '^nWi. T li-! i-^ ij -e i 'h :i ; t le 'ire ; o'' S n li wit'i t le bio > I 
 i»AjOulvury. 
 
tiGi'inj,' ;m(1 ily- 
 w iiml llouii-ih 
 
 'Ah!',n-- 
 rs iVoin yoiir-^, 
 ),1 care to (jive 
 
 trn^t too imic'i 
 •e is tlio dirtVi- 
 
 'heii lift ,^''i'. ii|) 
 S ) it IS onlv 
 ' leaves t ift U'l- 
 1 of lailb which 
 til tie !etteis of 
 
 111 ^M'ti!;' lin.; in 
 
 lile h.ioy. 
 
 (•\ii of th < wii- 
 e biio>' <lo?s u it 
 
 lov 
 
 ')' 
 
 'All 'J. 
 
 1 ! I iiui ihovvii 
 !-hoiil I ie use I; 
 • h • iollon"^ liis 
 i;iasp of Christ, 
 I not t > linrileii, 
 
 t-on iir sr,fo; or 
 inuour — it pro- 
 
 TKN AND INCOR- 
 iMASIC (MiAKM. 
 
 :3 of he.iltli, re- 
 !f s/Imlted F do 
 say-: t:ifj doctor, 
 uiKturt [•■.. whicdi 
 u)vale your sys- 
 .tter a f^w days 
 
 doct )!•, no bc- 
 'ie:a, doctor, I 
 )\v liieiii ?' '0 
 you ne.'h'ct the 
 ^ive t 'H'.) and 
 (i tiie ]>i'o'.iupes. 
 i« hea t, 
 t le f I no 1-; hoy 
 i ■!", — in-t 'ad (tf 
 ':cl (1, he would 
 niii'o wiud'.iiiUs 
 I. .(led. Bit 
 
 V le Ho d. 
 V own St:0 Ij^tll, 
 i)]'.'.v. to elap tin; 
 
 wit'i t le bio 1 1 
 
 35 
 
 i::<ii:'irr.\rit 
 
 /.I. 
 
 iltarme ! how ([uickly 
 
 Time jiasf^es away, 
 How taiily and thirkly. 
 
 Men die c\eiy day. 
 A few times ol' meeting. 
 Of lovinj,' and bating, 
 A lew years of scrapin<j 
 More du.st in our kcepiiig,'' 
 And tliiii ilie (artli 'griping, 
 J'hiibofcoms its pi t-y. 
 
 () siniK-is, wha' fully. 
 
 Tin n (Iocs it apjiear, 
 To stl the liearr wlioUy 
 
 On anytiiinL; here. 
 Tl;is toiliiiii and ^trivint^ 
 Tliis iiinnint,' and uri\in,g. 
 Tbis love of jiossess-ing 
 A mere earthly blessin-, 
 Deatli all the while clia.sing, 
 
 Yon ki:ow not hdv." near. 
 
 Vbiw ul'ten lament h\u' 
 
 O'er moments misspent'. 
 ll<\v c'teii rtp(niing, 
 
 You never lepent. 
 And lilways admitting, 
 Tlie niMiients are Hitting, 
 Jhit ne^cr iini'ri\'ii)g 
 Thciii le-ttof. wjiile moving, 
 Yd'i, s:ili folly lovin/. 
 T(i ruin ar(.' lu^nt. 
 
 I low awlVd tn triih' 
 
 God's moments in sin, 
 ITow awful to st tie 
 
 Ood'> h^jnrit witliin. 
 |No mo.e this peisistm,'. 
 No more this resisting, 
 The time is proeetding, 
 (Jod's ^]iirit i> [ib a ling. 
 And the Church is bidding 
 
 Ynii uirn and idUic in. 
 
 Pcith's arrows are flyivij^ 
 And I'alling aronml. 
 
 Yiiur 11' iglibonrs are dying, 
 And laid in tbo groui'd. 
 
 Niiuioie vain resolving. 
 
 Your ruin involving; 
 
 liut now, now, or never, 
 
 O s(!ek fer tbe fnvi in. 
 
 Of God tbrongb the Savic^nr, 
 ^Vbilp it niav Ix ►found. 
 
 ''nM/-:. 
 
 Je.'Ui; ia willing muv, 
 
 .lesus i.s waiting nigh. 
 Life be '■ Duld fain bc.-tow, 
 
 AVhv, foidish t^iniie . e.ie ! 
 Wi'mtnts are living past, 
 Cbanciis arts losing '.a-t. 
 Tills on- may b(^ y< nr bist, 
 Fly to tbe i^aviour, fly ! 
 
 Seek ye iln.' Kathei/.s face, 
 Seek ye ti>e SnVloUl'.^ bive, 
 
 Sr-t k ye l:ie Spin.'- grace, 
 >,e U ye the !>'!•■ abnVr. 
 
 Notning jou in;e,i ,!■ 1 ring. 
 
 Chri.slis a jMighty K tig. 
 
 Come with a sinner's shatne, 
 
 Conn' with a sinnei's prayor, 
 ('lime wit 1 IV sinnei's claim, 
 r.iio'.v tn t'le eMi-'s Hiid (hire, 
 {.'ome wi h your bead in dust, 
 C'lUie with a child-like trust, 
 Faitlnul is (bid i'nd iiist. 
 He Will biigi\e and spare. 
 
 Now is 'be moment, n<i\v. 
 
 Why sLo.d.i you longer roam. 
 \V 1 1 y av ■-■ V I u c step., t < ■ s 1 > w , 
 
 Come, v.-.etct.e I sii.ncr. come. 
 Up w.icie liie aii^el-. d'.Vi 11, 
 bond le!> the gladne-s swell, 
 One mole ►.-cav)'-d Irom iiell, 
 
 Giving you eve.y itrng, 
 
 Come and bis -(huIucSo prove. One iiioii' jirodigal borne 
 
i' 
 
 '■,1 ;i- 
 1 1 ' 
 
 h I 
 
 I I 
 
 iwriii ii.i.rsri;.\ri:ii. 
 
 * 
 
 Ukbm.iki- iiiNDi'.RH (iiioWTH IN GHACK. A fniiucr is poic'lv cli->tiL'"aeJ With Uie pre- 
 vail iico I r aj;iu' :iii(l sicniie.ss in his loiist h( l.i. il:) lirst |ii-ucm'fs a large stock of med- 
 iciuos, but his luiiiily iculize lif.le bc-iiclit :vu\u ail ihe iu<(l:ciiie they can t:ikc. He then 
 Kt-t-^ ali.iut (]ra'.,;ii,i,' ;ili tl u ftacii' nt a!ii iiialirial i>.i( !■> of uiib'jlief in and anuiad the 
 ci liar of Ih.w (':isi;. Tlii'ii comes a cr,r. . iW licvcr. try tiranii.)^-. 
 
 Faith's srir.Miii.iNu ni.o.'Ks.- 'Whia' can I ho lor Diu^'vnrfs ^' sayn Alexau<lor t!io 
 
 tiiLMt, as 111! slod.l cue ilay in t!io dvu-: if ilu tn.-nu-r, interruptiii;^' the rtuiiliy;iit. 'You 
 can K^'t out of my sinishnu',' sa}a the pliilusoiiaer. Somytimes jjeacj will n >t shino 
 
 inio the (-iiiner's ho)«it, because souie thnciotl gooihuss or excellence in biniseM' slanda 
 between liiiu inii'i Cinist, ami v/ill not allow the hunsiiino (tf reilceni'ug love and i»irdou 
 to jiour >strai;,flit nilii the toul. 
 
 iSays Naanian to his oll'icer/I do not see wlat good washing witl'i thu \vat;>r.s of this 
 .Joidan can do to njy boi'iible leurosy— aic not Abana a'ul Pharpar, rivers of Damas- 
 cus, far bofer than the waters of this in.-i;,'nitieant struiui ? 1 cannot see any i)r«)pri- 
 tty or fitness in the i)luh>.-ophy o!' such a curoh The pru lout otficcr at his elbow 
 
 tin-ned away Lis atttn.tion from all phibsophy, and advised him to give the thing a 
 ixactical test. So Naiman wa, c.irdd. 'f lie tunctioa of faith is not to pliiloiophiz ), 
 
 but to prove by actual trial. 
 
 i''AiTii HAS SMALL BEGiNXiNGS. Some ])eo{)le expict it to spring uj) in their hearts as 
 a niushrooai, rather than as a grjin of mustard aedd. The i-eed may bo in the soil and 
 tl'oy do not fee it; it may even l>e in the blade and thej' do not perceive it, because of 
 the abun lanl weeds and thorns which pervade their hearts. But by and by it will 
 make itself distinctly manifest over the liead of everything else, and kill the weeds, 5ud 
 bear the fruits ot grace and pea^e luxuriantly, bo that hope and joy, as birds, may lodge 
 comfortaidy on its branches. 
 
 Faith is somktimks amissing. Wo have all seen our grandmother, in some absent 
 inind'fd moment, hunting for hor spoc'aclo ;, wliile at, the same time they wore on her 
 nose. liclievers are not seldom just like her. You meet them lumting tor their faith, 
 while at the f^aiue time, they are lo )king through tiie glasses of faith at Christ and him 
 crucified. Their s^.ln^es have b^comfi so inured to th •■ use and v/out off lith, that they 
 have cea^cd to be able, at stupid moments, to distin:juisli the ditl'erence between the pre- 
 Bence of laith and its absonci. 
 
 Not by fkelino i;ut by faith ark \k savi:u. The Philippian jailm- wa^ saved; 
 anil in his case, there were so many things th it he felt, an. I so many things that ho be- 
 lieved. In tlie first pi ICO, he felt very m 3h tVightened; in tlie seonl place, he felt in 
 a very wrutcljtd condition. He felt he was a very great sinner, and that he w.vs in 
 
 great danger of being lost. He had plenty of feeling — it was killing him. It was only 
 when, at Paui'.s command, he bcjau to believe, that ha re vlly found life and peace. 
 
 It was liis belief, not his feeling, that saved him. If a sinuer feels, it is time 
 
 to give up fejling and try what believing will do for him. 
 
 It is faith that opens thk door to tkuk (::HKisriAN fkeling. A sinner nev- 
 er feels Ills eins till he believe.i the Divine testimony that condemns him. A sin- 
 ner never feels tiie joys of pcioe and pardon, till ho b lievcs in Christ as tlu Re- 
 dee ner that justifies him. Care noi lor feeling, oujy believe 'Lud trust; Jeelitig 
 will take care of itself. If yo i wouhl have your hear; ^m warm, go where the 
 fcacriiice burns ou the altar. You will never U'.el well till yju beliovc well 
 
Lixr.s fs TT!r ci.osinc; of lHh;{, 
 
 with the pre- 
 itoek of med- 
 ikc. lie thou 
 .1 aioaad the 
 
 lexauilor t!io 
 ij,'iit. 'You 
 vi[[ 11 )t shino 
 iiuseM s!ji'i(U 
 and J) irdoH 
 
 ,vafc;>r.s i»t' tliis 
 
 (if Daiuiis- 
 
 aiiy propri- 
 
 at his elhijw 
 
 'e the thin;,' a 
 
 iliiloiupliiz !, 
 
 leir hearts as 
 the soil anJ 
 t, becausu of 
 nd by it will 
 10 weeds, 5ud 
 Is, may lodge 
 
 some absent 
 wore on lier 
 )i- their faith, 
 jriat and him 
 ;h, that they 
 rtreen the pre- 
 war saved; 
 :8 that lie be- 
 ce, he felt in 
 at he w.is in 
 It was only 
 id peace, 
 s, it is time 
 
 sinnor nev"- 
 iiii. A sin- 
 as (lij Re- 
 list; leeliti;^ 
 J where the 
 a wi'll 
 
 Ilcar the last siph of Poccmlier 
 By the ^'lave of Eighty Threr. 
 
 Pittitfe, brother, iiiid rfiuembf r 
 One more y« ar is gone from tber. 
 
 Yes, one moment, pnuse and wonder!" 
 
 At God's n>eM<y VO thy soul; 
 And the (p.e^ion a»k and ponder, 
 
 Ait^thon iica;ei lieav'u thy }^oal. 
 
 At his cradle smiles and gritting, 
 We exchan;;ed twelve uiunths a ,o; 
 
 Now, whily his last pulte is beating, 
 Drop one t( ar belors hri go. 
 
 Child of eternity ! liow kindly 
 lirouglit he mercies to onr Aotv, 
 
 MercieK, we receiving blindly. 
 Were too hehlom grutohil .Cur. 
 
 Now he goes, and gi es furtver 
 With bis lunghter and his tears, 
 
 But his fadeleBH.RECOKD— never, 
 Till God's sifting day appears. 
 
 Ah that Ilucurd ! dHutlilesa wholly, 
 Page torn Ironi the book of time, 
 
 Will it tell of hnman folly 
 Or of livas vv^e made sublime? 
 
 Eighty Four is no v be oie u-. 
 
 On its threshold l-t us l■;ll^e 
 One united, grateful chorus. 
 
 To the Mighty Donor s praice. 
 
 Hush unseemly shouts of laughter, 
 Lift its latch with words of prayer; 
 
 They wi'l clothe our souls hereafter 
 With new strength for woik and care. 
 
 Eighty Four ! what wilt thou bear us ? 
 
 Failure, triumph, smiles, or tears? 
 God knows all, — he will prepare m 
 
 For whata'er ia thee appears. 
 
 Oh I what^wreckage wilt thou scatter,- 
 
 Billow from eternal seas ! 
 Buoyant hopes and prospects shatter. 
 
 On carth'fa shore-line witl* thy breex.^. 
 
 But our lipait-i shrink not before thee, 
 Let thy ti uipei-ts rage or cease; 
 
 ©liri^t lur iiiip thai b?ar us o't-r thee. 
 We shall rtjieh our port iu pei\ce. 
 
 •n 
 
88 
 
 |.j 
 
 ' ANOTHER OVER THE DARK RIVER. 
 
 TliroUKb Death's waters iervid and frothing, 
 And climbing the mountaina Rubliine, 
 
 JiiBt leaving bis castaway clothing 
 To rot on the billockn of timp, 
 
 Ala« ! Stephen Hogarth we'll nover, 
 
 M^et more on this si'lo of the river; 
 
 For now he lias gone to be ever 
 A dweller in happii r clime. 
 
 He too,, tliongh he paw life diminiah, 
 
 Had bands full of labour and schemei, 
 ■Which fainly he hoped he could finish, 
 
 But<ipathput an end to hiHdi'eama. 
 E'en thno, lifo is ever a hnvry, 
 Men toil to the end in a flurry, 
 Till death pnts an end to the worry 
 
 Of life and its fevered extremes. 
 Yes, this thing, ani) il;at, and the otber, 
 
 All press for attention and care. 
 Till men e'l n forget in the bother, 
 
 That pilgrims should watsh unto prayer; 
 When Lo ! in the midst of these matters, 
 ■ They he»r the near gush of ihe water?, 
 Ad(1 now all the phantasy scattars — 
 
 They start on the brink to prepare. 
 
 But yet, Htopheu Hogarth, though busy, 
 
 Had never forgotten his end; 
 Or ielt tb&t bis soul could be easy, 
 
 Or bale, wiiliouc Christ as his friend. 
 And 60, although never assuming 
 His day wab iso n:-ar to it^ 'gloaming'. 
 The cry, thai lae Bridegroom was coaling, 
 
 Showed 6ome preparation attained. 
 
 Ah love ! how it clnng to him blindly; 
 
 Could it but have lengthened his years, 
 Its care, pt rftevering and kindly, 
 
 Would now Lave averted our tears. 
 . But no I though man ever proposes, 
 To lengthen the span ere it closes. 
 The Lord ever wisely disposes 
 
 The finale of all, our careers. 
 
 Now rest, Stephen Hogarth ! thy Uhoars 
 And journey have come to their eiid; 
 
 .Much missed wilt thou be by thy neighbonra 
 Much missed as a husband aud friend. 
 
 No more with life's sore undertaking, 
 
 Thy back will be burdened and aching; 
 
 Sleep on till thy final awaking; 
 Tny dust shall arise at the end. 
 
 The plough, and the reaper, and harrow, 
 
 Now others must follow for thee; 
 And gather the sheaves from the farrow 
 
 And mow the creen hay on the lea. 
 Life's work will go on umemitting. 
 Whilst thou, of its progress unwitting, 
 Wilt dwell in those Mansions befitting 
 Life's rest of the higher degree. 
 
;ju 
 
 A PRAYEU— WRITTEN IN THE TIMK OF 
 
 TRYING DISPENSATION. 
 
 ▲ VEST 
 
 In our trouble, Lord, be n«ar ub, 
 
 We do mournful all the d»y; 
 Oh ! let not thy judjfments fear uh, 
 
 Shield UP, Lord, we humblj pray. 
 BleBs to UB this dlRpenRation, 
 
 Let thy blows no more descend, 
 • Grant us gmce and consolation. 
 
 Keep us faithful to the end. 
 
 We are sorrow- worn and fainting, 
 
 Satan, sin, and fearr, prevail; 
 Lrt thy tender heart, relentiner, 
 
 Yield us succour, lest we fail. 
 We are ffeble, poor, and dying, 
 
 We have nothing sure but Tbee, 
 While our woes are multiplying, 
 
 Near us, our Father, be. 
 
 And while storms and darknessfgather, 
 
 Lightnings flame aud clouds amass, 
 , In thy boKom, Heavenly Father, 
 
 Let us nestle till they pass. 
 And in every dispensation, 
 
 With which thou art ploaaed.to'try, 
 Give u« gratofiil resignation, 
 
 And more meetness for the sky. 
 
 And when done with time'forever. 
 Earth and all terrentrial things, 
 
 Take ub home, no more to sever, 
 To be with thee, priests and kings. 
 
 CHEER UP, BROTHER! 
 
 ' Gheer up ! Cheer up ! Christian: brother, 
 
 Lat uot sinful foars prevail; 
 Thou hast one Prieni, if no other. 
 
 That will never, never, fail. 
 ;■ Cheer up, brother ! cease thy weeping. 
 
 Though tlio billows rage and howl. 
 In thy barque their Lord is sleeping, 
 They shall never touch thy soul. 
 
 Cheer up, brother ! Christ is|uear th.ee; 
 
 Trust, go forward, fear no ill. 
 Satan stirs up storms to fear thee, 
 
 JctuB loves and guards thee still. 
 Cheer up, brother ! storms surround thee, 
 
 But thou metHt with storms before, 
 Safe, they left thee, as they found thee, 
 
 Safe, and nearer Canaan's nhore. 
 
 Cheer up, brother 1 supplication 
 Many hearts liave made lor thee; 
 
 God will giaut them consolation 
 Comfort, bless, and set thue.lree. 
 

 4(' 
 
 lu l-.jiiWi>i i.e. 
 rai'. r-RO'i. i-oi :.r cu a souuowino hi sijanij afteii thk dkath of his wifR. 
 
 7'/iiiiii/h lii/'T lore itiir inminh h(tv>: liC(th(l,'^cJ^^\''. 
 W'f iroiilil not liiifr thfir .srurs r(iiici;th;l. „^']^. 
 
 "Miuut in^alta nicnto ropoetuni." 
 
 (If Arruvf atlTome on4h(? Nawasb ! how do?my tl'.ou!?lit''^^aii(l"r tuwiinls i'^c. 
 
 Dear lo int- aie tliy well known binWg a«d 'l»rae»',whei'o tlie Pottnwatami • o-ieii^ Iior 
 iiupcni to tli< Ktin ill tKe Howe rj' ylndrR j»" strttls (lowivsofrly tlirnn^'li the wixxieci plci 
 h> the NuwrpIu niid the iQcky peiiks ntretcli their neoks to ca*ch on their h'(nvs tht hr-it 
 f;l<)W of tlio lisnig biiu or icflftt the last radianco of his goUtenr glory as lie draws tho 
 wuraiiiw of nigUt over the wooded wild* of t'le we^Jt.^ Ah dear spot,— need it be won- 
 dered at, that I love. t;i*e. On 'thy sunny bnnks ami leaFy 'h^afs', a twin spirit wove 
 lier wch ot life with mine; jiird we snns: litV-."mplody together, she the treble and I the 
 buss, iiiid it vas a sweft, t-weot Rtiain eleven long years. Yes, a marvellonsly swPHt 
 fonv; not fur oil' Wiis it heard; f^w but omvi Ives heard the s'ra'n, but it made some 
 hearts «hnue,— uiy dnyo's, and mino, and tho tenler flf^dsjlinc^s' of the nest 
 
 Ah ! Ii t lue dream life's dreum a«;a n; I still see thfs^e tcene"; I still hear the echoes 
 <i!'.tliat ijrecions vuw^i I'oUinp; softly aruuiul the 'brae.,'. Yt)« soft and b)W bu' wonderful- 
 ly 8we< t, I her.r it nil again, from the dawn of our nuptial morn till the sun of her- 
 yotm^j he sets and the shadows of death's nig'it fill over lier t,'rave. 
 
 dearly loved home ! 'iwas on thy gentle slopes and smiling vales that I wooed and 
 w«n my 4ove and spent eleven happy years of nuptial life . Ah ! in wooing days, well 
 I remember, I turg of my 'lily of the vale'. T wore that lily proudly nuar my heart,-- 
 biit, it witherel, — nay, not withered — it bloomaii fairer than evt>r, and was transplant- 
 *d Iroiu my rough ktepingto Rhf>Itered skie^ an 1 the Sivioir's breast. An 1 now nil 
 11. at was mortal < f my darling, sleeps iuvycn mrubh-d and pillared city on tin troe-girt 
 liill ovejlwoking the town. Sleep oi*^ sleep on, my Dove ! No mote the scream of 
 
 the steamer in the bay, or the loud thr )b of the departing train will disturb the music 
 of tliy dreams,— mar the melody of that holier and naore rapturous son^ within, the veil, 
 vhere thou standest, and withdatt finyers evokest respousive strains from thy harp. 
 
 No more the gu.«h of the passing river or the whirr of the busy mill will greet thy 
 ears. Spring will a^ain deck our sylvan borne, sow the sides of our wonted pathways 
 with flowers, and scent the bosky bowers with their fi-agrance, but khoa wilt not be 
 there to greet tluem or to inhalu their odours. The birds will again build their nests 
 under our eaves, and tli* squirr-lsi niay amid the apple blossoms, and the hamtning bird 
 aiid the bee. drone nnd revel over tho operiitii? fljjiworp,, but thou wilt n)t be there lo 
 wnti'li their gambols or to admire their song. Th<» warm airs of Spring, fraajrant with 
 the hri ath of budding trees and opening blos-oaifi. will again sigh through tho ti"ee-t0f)R 
 or iday with the tendrils of oujf vin/»s, but no more will they brighten the bloom on thy 
 cheeks, or dally with the ringlets of auburn that encompassed tliy brow. 
 
 But why sl.04ild.I continue my sad somr. I am notcalled on to mourn, bnt to- 
 
 rej'iice. My Dove dwells in brighter skies, and is happy with the Lord whom she 
 
 s< fve I so well on eaith. To me God gave the compaiiionsbip of her brief b«?autiful lif ■. 
 lo ii',0 the testimony of -her happy. Christian de^t'i: and now, both my wife and c!iild 
 wr liip Lim in the Holy (jf-holirs, and behoLi his glory. "Eye hatli noiseeu, nor ear 
 jjn. lit, neit er have entered the heart *)f man, the things which God hath prep.ired for 
 Uie^i '; at love liitn." 
 
 / n'li-f her u/> in trust and lorr 
 
 To him that ijai^' hini.s''lf'/iir w; 
 J/er tdim to nw is i/aiii tdiorr. 
 
 Ami irhtit ',« nhorc nn/ ijain irill hi'. . 
 
41 
 GOOD OLD ME. DONALD. 
 
 Good old Mr. Dcnald — Few few. in the place 
 
 That greet not with plenRure his good lione&tfaMs 
 Fnll ninp years is he over threescore and ten, 
 
 And yet, nt his a<,'e, he's a king an;ong men. 
 His eye is not dim, and no art needeth he 
 
 To help him to hear or to ai<l him to see; — 
 *0f liim in a sense, it may truly be elated, 
 " His eye is not dim nor his toroes abated." 
 •Goad old Mr. Donald — the child ii; l]ie street, 
 
 Crows loud when it sees him and i uus to uia feet, 
 "Nor flees from a kios from bis shaggy old l)eard; 
 
 It knows he's a frieud, and it needs not be scared. 
 ^If neighbors are sick, he's the first one to call; 
 
 Or households in want— ever f*ithlul through all — 
 ' Good old Mr. Donald is soon ut the door, 
 E'er ready to help from his own little store. 
 
 ^ Good old Mr. Donald — when fir*the cami! here. 
 
 Few matched him in 8tr«r.gth as.a-bravQ pioneer, 
 .•His courage oft' tefted. in times tlwit vrovi tryiny, 
 
 In good for the liviug ae well as the dymg. 
 And now like tlie pine-tree that btiinds all alone ' ' 
 
 Untoa4hed by the fires, its companions gone, 
 
 ^'He lives AB thclast of a gone <generation, 
 
 Well worthy indeed of our high veneration. ' 
 
 Good old Mr. Donald , has Ftorics to tell 
 
 Romantic and strange, of the place where we dwell, 
 ' When scoured wolves and boars throiigli the forest at night, 
 
 "And women and chiMrei drew homo in affright; 
 And settlers strove liardfsom tl-e grouiul k> procure 
 
 A liviag but hc.inty and o'lei. unsure — 
 For church, mill, or market, encounfriug a toil, 
 
 Of which we know nothing, the trouble at>d trial. 
 
 Good old Mr. D )aold now lou^ has rejoiced 
 
 In work for the Cliuroh, he so earnestly 'prrzed. 
 "Her seniorelJer now long he hasbaen, 
 
 An<l well is he worthy that honour, I ween; 
 E'en few such there are, notwithstanding his years, 
 
 More diligent still in the office he b«ars. 
 L6ng, long, may the Master continue to spare him, 
 
 Gou'd gift to the Church and to all tlut are near him. 
 
 ♦Good old Mr. Donald, like God's everywhere, 
 
 (Has got his own cross with its sorrows to bear — 
 A OTOBS truly heavy foritnch'an old infln — 
 
 Oh! should not we lighten it all that we can? 
 "We pity no man, that from motives of pride, 
 
 Will still bear his cross — let him lay it aside; 
 But Oh ! what tnie child of the Fathr above, 
 
 Would not help the muii that must bear it from love. 
 
 ■Good old Mr. Donald, when dead and away. 
 
 Will much morj be prized than hd is here to-day; 
 Ami many a one in the churcli ani tiie place. 
 
 Will miss his kind words and his good honest face, 
 And many an eye will be wet with u tear, 
 
 That day when the old man is laid on his bier: 
 -Then let us be kind to the cheery old man, 
 
 A,ud comfort »n.i keep hiua M Ini^ ai we can. 
 
■i'^ 
 
 THE NEW lilliLE— by huxi-ey, beechkr, and co. 
 
 JIST nEADY TOR THE PUBLIC. 
 
 ^'ienilr', l)\>y tlie Biltlf now revised; 
 
 It costs liiit twentjv (!ol!lar.'<. 
 Wlieie'ir 'tia fei'ii, 'tis hifplily pri/eJ 
 
 And much ailiuiixl by Kcliolarfl. 
 \\':\U ii(>t)iini( now to n) lock tbi: inind,. 
 
 lUiiuiI^ivi' Of invitlioiiji,. 
 ll.'- laii.ii.ii^u p 'HhIk*)! and refined^^ 
 
 W'iU ; ^li/^,^c t';o nioit fastidious. 
 
 Tli>; AVdi k wo I ffrr, wan amui ilbd ' 
 
 liy l\u\n\ perniiKoion, 
 By Kcivntiiit ; and Hcholai-R, stjtM' 
 
 "The Great lu'-piiei) CikDinjiraionr''. 
 Heiv Hiixlty, J^eechor, Dftrwiny.Baur,. 
 
 Besid«-8 a hnndrrd othera 
 Profound in «veiy hrancb of lore, , 
 
 Have <lune tlieir work like brothers. 
 
 Ti.ir Bi]d<>^ wtdl fti1apt<<d then 
 
 To learner or to teaeher, 
 Ib all done by inspired men,.. 
 
 From Most)!* down to Beeciier.. . 
 Fkoin Calvinistic jargon cU(ur, 
 
 From gritu predestination,, 
 huloes not Hcare men into iear, 
 
 But win them to salvation. 
 
 It now is perfect, yon'll perceive,. 
 
 WitI) mirucleu ejected. 
 And no liard dogmas to believe, 
 
 And common sensie respected. 
 Oeidogists and Mo9f>8 tell 
 
 The story of Creation; 
 And Moi^es' Oenesis reads well 
 
 With Darwin's emendation. 
 
 ISbre PMo'r Fi-oyerb8,.and with these,. 
 Some chapters of>mytholoi<y. 
 Some sernioDH from Demosthenes, 
 
 Front hRimtr^a doxolbgy; 
 The E'zmIus, now sure to draw, 
 
 I^ done by Wilkie €!olIinR;- 
 Whilti Carlylc iindertakes the Law- 
 
 And gives u« one of Solon's. 
 
 Tlw Prophets' writings are redaoed« 
 
 To 1>eauty most etftotive; 
 Aim) lines Irom S&akespeare introduced' 
 
 ' In parts that are defective. 
 The PsHlma liave been revised throughout. 
 
 And every pains exerted; 
 Some fikiilty ones have been left out, . 
 
 And Sanlcey Psalhis inserted. 
 
 The Gospeli uow ignore all creeds 
 
 That hang by expirtiou; — 
 Just do your. best — God neither ntieds 
 
 Nor caras for reparation. 
 Tills Bible has no endless hell, 
 
 No torment of perdition — 
 Deau Fai'rur proved thit <loetrin3 well 
 
 To be but superstition. 
 
 In short, this Bible, grand and new, - 
 
 Eevised by modem t^choiars. 
 Is .^ust the very thing fur j o«. 
 
 And. costs but twenty dollars, ^ 
 
4:5 
 
 PERSE VERAXCBth-k tea-mektiko adurf.ss in vek^k! 
 
 xe,'. 
 
 sed' 
 shout. 
 
 Ladiei and gentlemen, — to you 
 
 ijome brief apology is •iu«; 
 
 And yet I scarce know what to s»y — 
 
 So do exeuHe lue now, 1 pray, 
 
 If such apology bo short — 
 
 For compliments are not n«y forte. 
 
 This mixed addrevF, this strange endeavour^ 
 
 Bb not got up for mere palaver — 
 
 I thought a change to rhyming m< at^ure 
 
 Might give you benefit and pleasure — 
 
 So, in this style, I now addreus you. 
 
 May pc&co and patience then poggees yoa, 
 
 Anil all your friends around carogs you, 
 
 And nothing '.hat I say distress you. 
 
 I'll promise that I wout abuse you; 
 
 And if there 's not much to amuse you, 
 
 Or aught to interest and please you — 
 
 Just fidget on jour seats to ease you, 
 
 And slyly clip out from your pocket 
 
 That cake you 'hooked', to eat or look at. 
 
 And T shall never say yoittoids it: — 
 
 Bo now, my friendp, esteomi d and dear ones, 
 
 I'll name sty subject — t*i-t>i/'»emnce. 
 
 6) hriive Pi>r»einraiice ! could foitls imlij kiiuw 
 Huiv yraitif thy arhin'emeiit» hi/ hmd and by tea, 
 
 What prizes and honourn thm huxt to hfttow 
 Oh all that pcniistrnth/ unit upon tht-e; 
 
 I'm sure there are niamj that bread in despair, 
 Or mope all the dnij on despondcncif s seat, 
 
 Would Jtiny all their fears and their uoes in the airy. 
 And, rising like yiants, ue\'r own to defeat. 
 
 The farmer that stnujijles to wrimj from the soil 
 Subsist euee for all he lutlds dear in this life, 
 
 'J he lover that pines for his fair lady's smile, 
 The statesman in pcaiw, and the soldier in strife. 
 
 O Couraye my brother .' . / one ejfort more: 
 Sureess to the man that uill still persenre: 
 
 Persisttnee may eoiii/Uer, e'en now as of yore, 
 Jf cause may be yiiod and the ronseimce be ehar. 
 
 Yen, one effort more ! and onr more if it needs — 
 Another one .<fill^ if the other ones fail. 
 
 The last effort, brothrr, it is, thitf sneeeeds, 
 The first ones hut Iku'Ii us the wtty ta prrvail, 
 
 Yon 've lieiird of Biuce ilia Scjttish chief, 
 
 That wanted to be King; 
 Nine times he tried, and came to grief, 
 
 He could not ri aeh t! e thing. 
 
44 
 
 One tlivv, at fortrnn's lowest el»l», 
 He k:iw uiul watcliml a spider 
 
 AttuiiijitiiUJ to lix up lifi- wob, 
 But fctiU the tiling flcfieil her. 
 
 Nine times the ppidcr vainly tried, 
 The tnitli time cho pnco edctl; 
 
 Ah I tliis is jii-t, th.o chioltaiii cried, 
 The lesson I have nei'ilod. / 
 
 An effort I will make nguin, 
 And lortnne may return; 
 
 That effort was not made in vuin, 
 But crowned at Bannockburn. — 
 
 Yes, persevwrance well directed, 
 
 Means huehanded uud none neglected, 
 
 With plans well pondered and connected, 
 
 And patience for the time espacted, 
 
 Have some boii w great thini^B at times efifeoted. 
 
 The BmalleBt hubbaudinKS ei power — 
 
 As the small raindrops of a shower — 
 
 May prove to }ou a priceJ ess dower, 
 
 In some short, sharp, decisive hour.— — — — < 
 
 'Twas acting wisely on this view, 
 
 That Wellington at Waterloo, 
 
 Made regiments of unwill n«? men 
 
 Lie flat and listless 'on the plain 
 
 Safe from the showers of leaden rain, 
 
 Beserving «nergy a»nd strength, 
 
 For that soreliour, whioh came-at length— 
 
 The crisis in the battle's tide, 
 
 When victory swung to neither side — 
 
 Then flung their forces fresh and hale 
 
 Into the doubtful, wavering scale — 
 
 Down, down, it went,and victory crowned, 
 
 Once more those arms so long renowned. 
 
 So too, went down Napdleori'b sun, 
 
 That night, when Waterloo was won. * 
 
 1%: 
 
 Again, the persevering need, 
 
 In view , some worthy end; 
 They're happy trying to suooeed, 
 
 And happy when it's gained. 
 Thus every man an object has, 
 
 E'en whether rich or poor: 
 It may be riches to amass, 
 
 Or honour to secure. 
 It may hi but to win a lass, 
 
 Or make a farm his own: 
 Who has no object is an ass , 
 
 And doeth good to none. 
 Then if the object in our eye 
 
 Be laudable or f<ood, 
 ^Tis fitting that the moans we trjr 
 
 Bs zealously pursued. 
 Were e'en the ef torts wo apply 
 
 To never reach their end. 
 
 ■i^ii'. 
 
4T) 
 
 TLe uihiipiiiio we y»»t ihoifby 
 
 !• ftlwavfl Hometliing gaineil. 
 Tiie child of opulence luay ple.»M 
 
 To deem all toil beneath hiui, 
 Au<l Kfii^p wljat luxuiie.'t uu i «hsa 
 
 HiH t'atliet'8 storei beq^at.h hiiu; 
 In witless t'olly, n«'er hn atieH 
 
 The law all toil attending?. — 
 ilia Sire waa happier earning these, 
 
 Than he ia now iu ppending. 
 
 ^h ! ajeark wcU puriued ii for everi/ oni't ijuoil. 
 And the iJlvr U onh a J ml, 
 
 JLnd will be, hut. a slave, ull the naif to his i/nnr, 
 IVhile tht diligent uorkr nil I rule. 
 
 Yet the tnan of no pluck e'er (tunibi-i n, iU-lurk, 
 
 All his hardxhip* of humjrr and itred: 
 
 ^.WhiU the truth is that both are the fruit of hi* iliMh, 
 For hftierer.didauyht to nuceeed. — ■ — 
 
 . Sir Jssao Nawtoivgreat and good, 
 ' Waa aoked by oome one, if L« could 
 iKnow any diffei«noe in hia mind, 
 
 From that of otbera of mankind. 
 
 I know of none, 'the fage replied, 
 
 < Unless it be, that nlken I tried 
 
 To aolve some inyMery in my way, 
 I kept on at it,<<night and day, 
 
 < Until I found tbeatuyatery sought — 
 The price ot persevering tbcught. 
 Now, friend?, reinoinber, if you 're wise, 
 The Sage's practice and advice. 
 
 , 1 i I ' ' 
 
 Tbus may you see, wherever life 
 Has progrens and-coberence, 
 ■ "Nought is more lielpful'in tbe' strife. 
 Than dogged persevdisnce. 
 Tbe yeoman fdllnwing liis plough, 
 ' O'er landn of late a clraranoe, 
 ' Though baMi uponoe.is well off now, 
 Ana tflhthrougb persaverance. 
 
 The wealthy merchant in his store,..' : 
 
 With all its giand dppearauce, 
 larich— tbou|;h poor enough of yore — 
 
 Through pluck and perseveruuoe. 
 ' So-too, the pulpit and tbe bar, 
 
 Require this staunch adherancc,— 
 'The bei^t in science, art, or war. 
 
 Are best thiough perseveraucs. 
 
 <&o also in'the spiiere of faith — 
 
 Its many teat", severe ones — 
 He that is faithful unto death, 
 
 Has greatest perseverance. "' ! 
 ..Before thte, duty plainly see. 
 
 And brook no interfere nee, — ' 
 The crowji of life at last will be, 
 
 Tlie Crown of Perseverance. — - 
 
 ■■■ ' J »i 
 • - . ♦ 
 
 ■I.. , , 
 
 "• •" ■:. .'• J '. 1-' 
 
46 
 
 Though ubitadea muij har ih* paih 
 
 The riHtn of covrafjt uUl jmntw. 
 Who iixfth nil the ineam he hath, 
 
 Nfeih xeldom h^lpjrotn me or //<»»«. 
 Then forwarJ, fonra 1(1, in the rnee: 
 
 See duty's path hefoie thee char: 
 And he is rii tor in the vhaf, 
 
 Whom God tjire* heart to persevere. 
 
 Gud's Word the f.ight to show the way, 
 
 And prayer the sta^ff' to wake thee strong^ 
 Jtnii.j alt thifie energies in play, 
 
 And forward, foruard, press alomj. 
 Thotiijh itidoletire miHj tall far sleep, 
 
 And ca-rna! lusts invite thee near, 
 K«fh man must sou; as he wudd reap,-^^ 
 
 Remember thiss — and persererei 
 
 liltme Has not huilt up in a. dajj. 
 
 Nor the World's nontUrs tif the past;:: 
 
 The ioustttnt rain-drap loars its xtioy.. 
 Into the hardest stone at lust. 
 
 To yet I heir toay hu'iAes Sf tared, 
 
 Yourjathenf laboured ivnJt,y a year;: 
 
 By ijoH, liks howis imtff heprojctned, 
 
 ^ Jfytm ivill onlyjijeisrrere. 
 
 'Tig trell^ vcith diii^itee 'md.shjill, 
 
 tt) build tip 1uniies,aud utmu^md rcapk,.; 
 "Jiiit th^'re, '» a. 4 ream) re hiyher still, 
 
 'Tis tr<\ll,to fare for and to kef p. 
 "lif.treasurf- tha4, trill tW fndurn. 
 
 To uourish^,streH(jtheH, and to cheer, 
 Jn Ohri»tf this rirhi-s is sei-ure; 
 
 Thin *eek it.notc^and perstrere.- • 
 
 Now, r clone my, brief oration, 
 With a wor.l of explanation. 
 Tea class wiitliin tht nation — 
 Whom we tiiwiiin every stacion- 
 Ajiii wLo n,i «»i,tl'« exLoi'tation,- 
 
 Ti^you^ youug matij deep^drfep, in iove- 
 
 Your face your paia expresses — - 
 Still peneveranoe may remove — 
 
 Th« eause of your distreBveei. 
 I see yoa growing thin and p.ile, - 
 
 It is no wonder either; 
 Your many Bi^^-hs would make ». galp, 
 
 It they blew »1L together. 
 
 Faint heart, fair lady never won — 
 
 Lpt not your bope6 foreake you; 
 "Bt'-'^ege her hardened heart of htone,. 
 
 Uutil she 9ays she'll take you. 
 WHte to her sonnets every week. 
 
 Say she 's an angel-beauty, 
 ^eh* iips make musio when they speak, 
 
 H«r eyes as arrows shoot you. 
 
 Tii«'n o^l«.at:hpr in the church, . 
 
 Ajid Mgh as if expiring; 
 Be ready Hlwrivs in the poroh, 
 
 To see Iter iu retiring. 
 E'«ir watoh her,, when she comes in light, , 
 
 And 'dog' her round on Sundays*. 
 Be *-\jTe, keep howling all the night, 
 
 H.»»i- lather's dogB on Mondays. 
 
 Tell her, you'll run away and sail 
 
 To some far land or city, 
 Or jump info hor father's well, 
 
 If, she will not have pity. 
 Yes ! gome young lovers do sucoeedt 
 
 In winning thus, their dear, ones, 
 With not their wit-less brains indeed, . 
 
 But just their Peneveranoe. 
 
 
i7 
 
 ANOTHER TEA-MEETING ADDRESS. 
 
 WHAT SHALL THB SUBJECT BE— 
 GHOSTS OK DRUNKENNESS ?. 
 
 ;« 
 
 Mr. CLairman, wad ladieH, and getitlamau all— 
 
 Tou aeksd me to give you a ■p«ecb — 
 And now, tbat t rise to respond to your call, 
 
 And am not to lecture or preach— 
 IK^hat theme ihall I cbooee, and what shall liif, 
 
 That i^er is a speaker's concern. 
 Some want something grave^ and some want somathiag fAj, 
 
 And all look for scHuething to learn 
 
 Shall it be a tale of the blue ocean flood, . 
 
 Of shipwreck 4 starvation, and death? 
 Or flesh-creeping story of murder and bkktd, 
 
 To make your breasts falter for brebth ? 
 Or tale of the woei of a young loving pair 
 
 That love not too>wis'ely, but weli. 
 How eross«d by tbe parentii, they urged to despair, 
 
 Elope in the end and prevail ? ..'. 
 
 in dghty , 
 
 ^yi: 
 ght, 
 
 ed, 
 
 M. 
 
 leed) 
 
 Or of grim ghosts from graveyards stealing. 
 To travellers late themselves revealing, 
 Great gusts of sulphurous breath diffusing, 
 With eyes in stony sockets musing, 
 Jsws that would speak, btit only chatter, 
 Le^R with au flesh, tbat jerk and clatter, 
 And libs wherein tbe worms are crawling — 
 No wonder 'tis h sight iippalling, 
 "When suob, in lte<1-)0(>iuB daik appearing 
 Th»^ sleeper seep the pfaantum nnaring 
 III horrid clofeiiess tu his pillow, 
 And feels eacli hair rise like a willow,, 
 And sees all life's past sin and error 
 Rioe in a ^IsnCA, and groans in terror, 
 Thm hugi his blankets closely o'er him 
 Aud boiiiiils out on the floor before lum. 
 And veils in liorror aud aflViglit, 
 For help, for mi icy. and for light. 
 Wliile all aronnd bim dreaming, snoring — 
 Waked by his tbuoiping aud his roaiing — 
 Thinking of burulary and murder, 
 Jump from Ihtir beds in wild disorder, • 
 
48 
 
 And grasp the' thief with noise nitroorimB, 
 
 And yell aud fight, with none victorious-, 
 
 Till some good chance or light has shown them 
 
 The trick tLe ghost lias pluyed upon them — 
 
 So finding: all their fight in vain, 
 
 Th*y go tp bed, and enore ago in. 
 
 No.— my young frit nd», on euch Btoriof, 
 
 I won't linger at thlB time, 
 But on dtunkeunesB — its glories,- 
 
 With its madness and its crime. 
 See that cottage by the road-eide, 
 
 Sitting in potatoe patch — 
 Dirty gable, dirty broad-side, 
 
 l)irty all around to ifffftllh-: 
 
 Shingles torn off from the rigging, 
 
 Glap-bosrds dangling from the walls, 
 Fanes Rtuffed -with a stooking-legging, 
 
 And a ruin that appals; 
 •Door that opens with a rattle, ' < 
 
 Graced with neither lock nor latch, 
 ?T*S 5 ''Ta^ withont a fence, and cattle 
 
 Strolling all 'around the patch. . : « 
 
 See these children — ragged, naked, < 
 
 Squatting near the dirty door, ■ i : 
 EatingiOTustfl hut newly baked, 
 
 Eating, and demanding more, — 
 Theoe are crusts yon patient mother / 
 
 Has with painful toil obtained 
 ■^ Ht a neighbour's — for no othw »»» < . 
 
 Has she now to call her friend. 
 
 See her tLhi and toil-worn fingers. 
 
 And her faoa so full of care; 
 Still a comeliness that lii^gera, 
 
 Tells us that she bnoe was fair. 
 Ob 1 thei'e wrinkles and these furrows 
 
 Bound the forehead and the cheeks* 
 Till of hidden loads and sorrows 
 
 Which her mouth not often speaks. 
 
 Ask mo not who is this woman 
 
 Worn With want,aud toil, and strife? 
 Ah !her lot is .>ne tO'> oomiuon — 
 
 She 'b a drunkard's wretcbed wife. 
 O poor rose-bud, crushed and broken , 
 
 By a dninkard's foul despite, 
 Has your lot no cheering token, 
 
 Have your skies no sweeter light ? 
 
 Backward still your memory flashes— 
 
 Oh 1 how sweet the vision suems — 
 To the castle now in ashes, 
 
 That you built in girlish dreams. 
 Who had prospects brighter, fairer, 
 
 Than were your8,when young and gayl 
 Who endowed with beauty rarer, 
 
 Than you twain on wedding day ? 
 
49 
 
 And ;«onr,iutiire Eceiucd a;,'litte^r 
 Of long huppinfRfi and liglil — 
 ■Gbflstly niirnpp ! Oli ! the bitter 
 Fadiiipr of it from yoftr fi'-'lit. 
 For too fooii, within ;^onr F.don, 
 
 Ti ailed ihe Ferpenl tliiongli its bowore 
 ■ Now, your tiee of life iorbiddfn, 
 Life drngs on its weary hoiirc, 
 
 O poor Lily ! eruslud, yet clinging, 
 
 To these tender opening buds. 
 Such a boufjiiet niiglit be bringing 
 
 Joy e'en to a dranikard's mou Jb. 
 But & husband, grown a drunkard, 
 
 CareB no more for flowerR like tk«c — 
 Dazed aiid driv'llingo'er his tankarJ, "' 
 
 Worse than any bmte grows lie. 
 
 &But away, away, from this vision of eadnoss, 
 
 Now fastlet us hasten tliat more we may lea'.Ti — • 
 
 «J?For drink and its doings, its crime and its madness. 
 Can elsewhere arouse ev*n deeper concern. 
 
 "We next reach a ftrong place, 
 
 -With walls like a fort; 
 . A large and a long place. 
 
 With men in the court- 
 Dear me ! Bc-e th< ir faces — 
 How odd their grimaces — 
 All daiwing and singing. 
 All jumpmg and flinging — 
 Oh ! can they be glad folks ? 
 •Ah no, Sir, they're mad folks- 
 ■Replifid the gate-keeper — 9 
 
 'Juftt out at their sport.' 
 
 11 
 
 Ob ! who is that young man. 
 
 So sad and so drear, 
 "A hale and a strong man, 
 
 Yet crazy, I fear ? 
 GhJ has -he been jilted, ' 
 Or was his heart wiltod 
 By bad speculation 
 Or friend's ])eculaton — 
 Old man, tell m« whether. Sir ? 
 He answered.'Twas neither. Sir, 
 1 He made himself crazy, 
 
 Through whiskey and beer. 
 
 ^ Oh 1 who is that lady then, 
 
 So youugand so fair, 
 - So wise-like and steady tlu-n — 
 
 Oh ! how came she there ? 
 I don't want to shock you. Sir, 
 Nor do I to mock you, Sir, 
 But that girl you look at, 
 . JjQved whiskey and took it, 
 
.)■(> 
 
 Ifur Ulllt-'cliil.l mnnhre(i.- 
 'riieu ;^ijt ;ill disor leiOti 
 Aiiii rail thiougli the woods, Sir, 
 Ai mad ai a hare. 
 
 Dftarme Iryo-i 'd ih*i'm\m\& va — 
 
 My old t'rieml — to think, 
 Eachone.in your inail-hoi.tsd 
 
 CMine hither throu^i drnik. 
 Said he, you're a youth, Sir, 
 
 Aiul should kuow the irutli, Sir 
 
 Periiaps you won't love it. 
 But titill 1 ottn prove it — 
 E'en Inri^e as tliis place !■', 
 OuM halt'<tif our cas«8. 
 By whiskey >v«re made thus 
 
 To luaiuKitg to aiuk. 
 
 Aj^palltd by what-the old mau said, 
 And all tUo miuery there displayed, 
 We travelled on some uiile» uhead — 
 
 Till seeing soldier.^. 
 With guaa all forwiird level laid 
 
 Straii^'hc iLum their shouldera- 
 
 Wfe looked and saw a chaiivod core— *• 
 
 I'rto Bure not less than aevortl scope 
 
 Ahead some sixty yards «)r more-, . 
 
 All uimW- guard. 
 E£ch man geemod surly as a hoar, 
 
 But working liard.. 
 
 All t this, thousrht we,, can be no less - 
 Than Pfnitentiary — ({ismal place— 
 Where all the villfcin* oif our race • 
 
 C(>hdemned lor crime — 
 
 Ttf whom the Uw Rives little gr.tce 
 
 Must sorve their time. 
 
 Jdat thpii, there p.^nsed us by the warden, . 
 Said I, Good Sir, I beg yaur pardon — 
 But surely these meit'et l>)t 's a bard one — 
 
 Should oae run off — 
 Said he, six bulUtscau retard' one, 
 
 But one 'b enough. 
 
 Then ald« hti, in abwor toae, 
 They all ar* l)»d. Sir, every one; 
 Bii 1 in their n itutv, hxl in liabits; 
 I'd slioit t'leji down ,Sir, d jad like rabblt«i. 
 There 'a not a scouii Irel of tue lot, Sir, 
 W luld hasittte to c it m/ throat, Sir, 
 11" he mig'it tlun esca^ie his pinions 
 And clear to Uncle Sa ii's da:ninioii8« ■ ■ 
 
 Ylaarme I said I, and gaspad lor b.eath, 
 lithat's Ku, then beware of soath, 
 
51 
 
 Theee rogues lome day will lie your death, 
 Aa sure 's a gun, Sir, 
 
 In fiuch i\ lot I've little faith — 
 
 They'd think it fun, 8ir.- 
 
 Alast E«id li^, yuu Would nut think 
 Four-fifths of thcHC oame here tlirough drink. 
 Vfe know the kietory of eaoh 
 From factn one daree not well impeaob" 
 Althouffh alas 1. 6>r human nature, 
 I fear, the case will nu'er be better. 
 Srime e'er will geiminate and aoatter, 
 While lurn drink rum and beer like water. 
 @rime will coatnuue and be punished 
 Until onrHed 'liquor' hae been baniihed. 
 There are no kindn of crimes and rogueries. 
 That are not haicli^d around these grogeriei^ 
 Foul murder.burglary, and robbery, 
 Embezzlement, seductions jobbery, — 
 All these are pkmned and aCioMilated 
 By reckless fooU with brains inflated: 
 And no damned deed, however risky, 
 Some fool won't dare when flred with whiskey, 
 'ihis tiUtb, you see, is now admitted 
 By Judges candid tind clear- witted, — 
 E'en Judg«^8 too, that lovo their beer. Sir, 
 I Admit the thing is very clear. Sir. 
 Then all those haunts of destitution. 
 And holes and dens of prosiUuilion, 
 With Lospitals lot lying in, Sir, 
 And homes to shield the wrecks of sim, Sir, 
 Would fully more than half bu dried 
 Were Prohibition fairly tried. 
 
 Then mark, Bays he, th»s« wrecks of 'liquot'-^ — 
 Their life 's a misery and a bicker — 
 Jusi. worthless, blear-eyed, filthy wretches^ 
 SUeping in hog-pens, lanes, or ditches. 
 So lost to »i>n»e and all sobriety, 
 They're only pests to all society. 
 E'en to tliemseives and every (tber, 
 A blotch, a burdt n, and a bother, 
 Starving their children and their wives. Sir,- 
 And in a ditch, ending their lives. Sir. 
 
 In this land, 'tis eittablished clearlv, 
 Ten tl.ousand wretches die thus yearly. 
 Leaving the nation thus to mind 
 Their wives snd cl.ildr«u left behind: — 
 You stare at this — but 'tis a fact. Sir, 
 Go home and vote for the Sootf Act, Sir. 
 
52 
 
 BARRY'i SPREE. 
 
 *.'- 
 
 i.; 
 
 Goofl Mrd. r>arrT, for n mnutli, ^ 
 
 Well fe(\ her pe'»ee athI furkwye, ' ' 
 
 To jfpt A fat well-fpRth»'»-pd h«tcb '"'/,.. 
 
 Iti priinf condition to despatch ' ' . 
 
 'At BurrJ's f»moi]R shooting mitoh, | , 
 Held for the aporting 'birkios.' 
 
 JVnd Mr. Barry, short of oafih, 
 
 And Also sliort of cuRtom, 
 Apprized his friends, the sporting lot, 
 'Tliat »uch a day, at such a spot, 
 The bfKt m»n, st ton oents a shot, 
 
 Should take them home and roatt them- 
 
 So long ere noon on Christmas day, 
 Gome strinas of ileififhR and cutters, 
 
 Till every room -the crowd invades. 
 
 And j»v«ry comer of his shedf, 
 
 Is filled with risfs of sporting 'blades' 
 And itll the'eiHiks and (natters. 
 
 'And snob a steam of beef and pork, 
 
 That d«y was round hit borders, ■ 
 
 ' Suoh flights of 'cocktails' o'er the baj-> ^ 
 • Such oalls for'liqnor, n^ar and far, 
 6och ftlang, »uch oatliP, such wordy war, 
 To get and give their orders. .. 
 
 'Then when well primed, the fnn began— 
 
 The sport they had prepared for;, 
 ' To Bany's mill dt all was grist — ^, y 
 ^'Whaever hit, wLoevtr luintied — 
 The dimes dropped it)to Barry's fist, 
 And that was all be cared for. , , .r: 
 
 And. thimty disappointed shots, ',..:[ 
 
 As night drew .idar, gre(7 thirstier; 
 .-They travelled out, they ti-avrdllel in, 
 'Theyci^Ued for grub, lU'sy callei for gin, 
 , And e'er the clamour and the din 
 Grew louder and grew lustier. 
 
 And then when shades of night came dowu.^ 
 What drinking and waat sjioatin^ ! 
 
 With dancing, bvi earing, and grimace, 
 
 *TwaB like mo sober Christian place, 
 
 Or haunt of civilized race, 
 But Bedlam gone an outing. 
 
68 
 
 ADVICE TO A NEULV MAURI ED COUPLE. 
 
 God grant you bappineis and ii«>iilth, 
 
 Ab he has f{iveu you youth and beauty. 
 To join y»vi twain in w« ddtd wealth, 
 Hbb been, 'o nie, aplcHsant duty. 
 II' e'er your liuait.i uhould know a want, 
 
 Or e'er ymir oytH a tear of sorrow, 
 Rrn} ember thebe i^ay wet a }dant, 
 
 Will bf ar you fruitn of blias to-naorrow. 
 For Faith and Love — two blossoms fair — 
 
 Let r( om at your fireBide be jjiven; 
 Thef e bound up with the thread of pray«r, 
 
 Will tuake a bouquet fit for heaven. 
 • If ^k ou'd have HappiuesB your guest, 
 cushion every chair with virtue, 
 Then will she nit and eing her beat. 
 
 And she will n» ver more desert you. 
 If you would have your household bright, 
 
 And joyful, proFperoua. and strong, 
 Fling in each corner Bible liglit, 
 
 Fling in eaoh discord Bible t^ong. 
 'Who take the Bible for their guide, 
 
 Who se'^k the Saviour lor their frieud, 
 ^ Will e'er f.nd comfort by their side, 
 And live a life that knows no end. 
 
 'SONG — THE TBOUBLES OE THE MINIST£B. 
 
 Some folk have l-oldness and oonoeit, 
 
 With little education; 
 Son-e fe\v have lore and alpo heat. 
 
 That do not })ave discretion; 
 Some, too, are very bard to please, 
 
 And fonie are pour and siniBter; 
 ■An«i very off, through some of these, ' 
 
 Tlieie 's trouble with the minister. 
 
 A few read trashy novels cheap, 
 
 And there drink their tlieology; , ' ' 
 Wh le otbefh divn in science deep, 
 
 Ahtronomy, Keolo>ry, 
 Till thoroughly abrc.a^r the age, 
 
 Thev set -(he churches in a stir, 
 And war against tbeir doc trines wage, 
 
 And war against the mimBttir. 
 
 Some dose their 'nodd'es' crazed with drink. 
 
 And call it moderation, 
 And mean the puKtor ju-^t to wink 
 ■ And give noijotheration; 
 But let him give tbeir sins a clink 
 With gospel 'sirajie' or 'cani-ter' — 
 -Down to the pit, tliey vow to sink 
 The poor but faithful minister. 
 
 ■^ Cboms. — The ministpv, thn rninii^tnr, 
 
 The po ir but f lithful ministar— 
 Let us alone, and we shall you — 
 If yon would not get in a "^tiir — 
 Thus we adviac you, minister. 
 
MY OLD MILL HOME. 
 
 i';' I 
 
 Oiice more T gaze from 'Kinny'a' Hill, . 
 
 On fair lovcd-sceneB of Ion*' ago; 
 MV heart warms a^ tbe vision itill 
 
 That, brlftlit in laeuiory, apreada beloir. ■ 
 Adbwn Cnltialirond's -'ug'^ad aide, 
 
 The auiniijier evenint; Hun declines; 
 Hfii partin*; radianc, far and widti, 
 
 As jB:jld o'er alFtb<» valley sbinee. 
 
 Tl)e Blaokford Mansion, grandly set 
 
 'Mid fraprant bowers ind ftalcly treeSi-. 
 Looks proudly o'er all near eat«to, 
 
 Tbe home of ample wealth and ease. 
 Tlie dewy lawn, still cropped by shnep; 
 
 Tbe winding walkb, th'j shady f^roves, 
 Where 'mavis' nwf^ the day to sleep, 
 
 And freely hare or rabbit roves. 
 
 The shrub;, the bowers of livinj? green, ■ 
 
 The radiant,full- blown, fragrant flowera, - 
 Where seats of rustic, in the screen, 
 
 Invite to spend the twilight hount, 
 And nearer still, like burnishe I gold, 
 
 Begirt with tre»8 and flowery 'braes* 
 Lie the three pon^ln well ktiown of oUl — 
 
 A dear sweet hauni. of early; days. 
 
 Tbti swans «till floatii.<g on their breast, 
 
 The boat still chaiued to alder tre^. 
 This islo whereon wan built the nest 
 
 We oft admired and (sailed to see; 
 And, winding nearward many a miln, . 
 
 The 'Blackburn' still puritug^ its way,~ 
 Now hid by grove or steep defile. 
 
 Now btdght with sunset's golden rii.yt- 
 
 One branch gone down by 'beitin's' side. 
 
 With banks in siiado behind thi' hill^ 
 One branch wound northward spreadins; wide, . 
 
 And guthering strength to turn the mill. 
 Now froia the miller'd atuio) set free, 
 
 Increaaed in volume, f>roo, andall, 
 It leapit the 'waste-gate' mad with glee, , 
 
 And roars a mimic wataii^all. 
 
 Or/ taxed to turn the old mill wheel,: 
 
 You see the arms turn swiftly rouuJ, 
 And hetr ^he clapper'd cl inkin.r steel, 
 
 Aubome n^ar fivrmer'd g'iot is grouad.' 
 Tli(*so 'gowany' bunks, I knowthetn well; 
 
 Tlie«6 clambeiinjiJcIumpK vf 'whins' and broom 
 That lir j the 'dykes' along the v&\c, 
 
 Or gird tbe 'beltin^' mth chair bloom. 
 
 \ 
 
 The line of row'u treo.^ b. 
 
 )'oa<1, 
 
 Thi« big trees westward by v.he pond, 
 The heathery hills and braes of wojd, 
 
 That sheltered childhood round and round. 
 
90 
 
 \ 
 
 Dear Old Mill Home! t'ewthiii^s coaia thrill 
 My heart more than a sight oi thee — 
 
 Thy broom-thatched homestead and thy mill^ 
 Thy txees aucektra!, grand to see. 
 
 Behind the 'byre,' the towering forma 
 
 Of ash and planes 8till pierce the sky, 
 Through which culd winur.liowls hii storms, 
 
 ^nd summer's sotter breezes sigh. 
 The great ash, with its armit sprsad o!er 
 
 The slated and tlirae-nturied mill 
 "With bam And saw-uiill, as of yore, 
 
 All near, and in its shelter still. ■ 
 
 But Ah t I see the house once mo>'« 
 
 Wherein life's early days were ripeut; 
 The shining wiuiicws and the door 
 
 Through which to oft we eamn and went; 
 The gardt-n, snugly hid behind, 
 
 Wall hedged with hawthorn, filled with flowera; 
 Aad berry<bush of eviry kind — 
 
 Sweet haunt of summer evening houra. . 
 
 Th* honeysuel^le climbing fond, . 
 
 The oosy moss-house in the rear,- 
 TLe>bent ash btaniling by thb pond,. 
 
 The awish of passing waters near. 
 IJi^ar the maviit' evenin;{ song 
 
 Bing from the 'beltiu' bj.the burn. 
 The cuckoo's call-note, near and strong^. 
 
 The comcraik'F, in the field of com. 
 
 I hear sweet voices speak around, . 
 
 The rush of } oung feetdown the lane, ■ 
 }iere peals of laughter, there the sound 
 
 Of some sweet long-forgolten strain. 
 S'Weet faces smile in at tlie gate, 
 
 And forms familiit»vi^.4 me by, 
 Oh I can they all be living yet ? 
 
 Is this a dream ? or where am I ? ' 
 
 O dear companions of this soena !' 
 
 Then'Strong in youth or manhood'4^ piide, . 
 Can forty years, that interT<>ne,. 
 
 Have tbinced so many from my side?'-' 
 I sAe my grandsire's tottering gait;;: 
 
 I mark old' granny's frosted hair; 
 ilmd looks and smile* we ever met^, 
 
 When romping past the worthy pair. 
 
 Ok. '^nm ritleR past on 'Dolly's' b-^k. 
 
 And Will n.'irratiH LIb fctory thMUgh,, 
 While paper li!<ten>rfi i)«ai- him talk — 
 
 Y» t all ai e goue but just a lew I 
 But other pbantoms near me pass, 
 
 All yet distinct to menaory'is view; 
 We called one Father, and he was. 
 
 Such as few fatherp, good and tru©'. 
 
56 
 
 His early teaching and his prayera, 
 
 1 feel them in ray buiom Btill; 
 He sovred in faith, if not m tearn; 
 
 Now reaps; he did his i other's WilL 
 'lis in these naemorie«, O ye dead ! 
 
 I hear a lon^-dead brother speak, 
 Or fed a father pat my head, 
 
 Or siftter kiss me on ths clieek. " ■ 
 
 Now long with Chriht, aupiemely blest, 
 You know no no sorrow, feel no pain; 
 
 Qod's own ha>e entered into r«Kt, 
 And they that love shall meet again. 
 
 liliNES WfilTTEM IN SYMPATHY WITH MR. A, MRS. P. StORBT 
 * ON THK DBATH OF THEIR CHILD. 
 
 dear little Willie, our own chubby darling— 
 As fair as tifc pldm-blossom now on the tree — 
 
 <)old, cold, were the nests of tiie rubin and etarliog, 
 Tba'i night when } on came to your Mammy and me. 
 
 -A'&uloud howled t^ '^ winter winds round in their madneM, 
 And deep were the enow-drifts that lay at the door; 
 
 But littlu recked we in our love «ad our gladness, 
 Aa God f^ave us thee 'pet' — one little pledge more. 
 
 And Oh I hbw we fondled our newly found treasure— 
 Our little ones btole vound to 'keok' and ',.> smile. 
 
 Nor cared wo a whit, in the midst of our pbiasare, 
 Thy little mouth more, brought a little more toil. 
 
 1 hough born lo no title, our eyes tho ight thee plretty 
 
 Thou heiredst, on our part, no dishonour or ahame. 
 Ood gave, and we knew, would provide for our 'pettie', 
 Then wliat did we care for their tr^asura or fame. 
 
 But Ah t when the snow-drifts hkdrgone from ua nearly, 
 
 All early in April a cruel frost came; 
 And Oh 1 the «weet flower, ttiat we cherished so dearly, 
 
 Fast faded, and wilted, «ud died on its stem. 
 Not faded— Uh no I from'our tigUt thou wast taken, 
 
 Yes, taken to Jesus to wear ou his breast; 
 And there fchalt thou blosiom, till we too awaken 
 
 lu that land ol hohueai>, (jlory, and rest. 
 
 'And thy cherished body, with hearts sorely aching. 
 We laid iu itH giave at the end ol tje laue. 
 
 \Ve know, that tUo morn of .vteruity breaking, 
 Will bi'ing back its ashes tu beauty again. . 
 
B7 
 
 ..REFLECTIONS ON A NEW-YKAU'S STOBK.. 
 
 Hear iLo wild wiiidg liowl and luttle 
 IUmiikI the cliimiif^t-, through tho troos; 
 
 DoorwayH tremhle. wiiulowH rattlr, 
 SriDW-dril'trf block the door and IVoazc. 
 
 I'ast the windowp, belter hkiltcr, 
 Blinding nnuw-gUKts print and hiss. 
 
 Woe to him that'* far t'vom nhelter, 
 Out in Kucb a btonn n« thin. 
 
 Ill tho vortex ot ith lury, 
 
 Here we aheltur«9cl ct^eni to bear 
 Deuionfi Rliriek, and dancti, and flurry, 
 , l^onnd UB in thuir.uiad caroer. 
 
 Tn tho centre of their u^adneas, , 
 
 Hemiued around by cosy walln, 
 Here is comfort, warmth, and gladness, 
 
 And no fear our hetirt appala. 
 
 Cosy refuge I Emblem auraly 
 
 Oi our Lord, the ■aintn'rapodp; 
 From which ark they kok securely 
 
 Out on every etorm ihat blowb. 
 
 Storms of oonfliot, want, temptation, , 
 
 On them all they look Heiene; 
 Chi'iHt tbrir fortrasH and poiaeaHiou, 
 
 I« their atri^ngih in wary scene. 
 
 But to those thi* daring hai-donml, ^- \: 
 
 Who no'er anught thi« ark of taith, 
 Souls unsheltered and Ttnpardouud, ; . ; ; 
 1,^ Surely ttieiiti storms wiil^be death. 
 
 AJHVMN OF TiiUdT. 
 
 Although my future may not glow 
 
 With pronpects wholly to my tabte, 
 I've surely learne t rnouiih tj know 
 
 My Ood rules all things for the best. ; ' 
 
 Why should I wish e en now to see 
 
 My future in God's Kt'&nd design ? 
 E'en what 1 f#ar may never be, 
 
 And what I hope may ne'er be mine. 
 
 Sure' past experienoe of his care. 
 
 May teach me, if i'U teach at all, ' ' ' _' ' 
 Th»t 10 God's chosen anywhere. 
 
 No hurt, no evil can b«jf<*ll. 
 Nor would I cast ayearnin^jthouf^ht, 
 
 Back to the scenes of vanished yeara; 
 Though Bwctt the mercies which they broaghi;, 
 
 Tn»y, two, had trials, oared, aud fears. 
 
68- 
 
 Jhmy Loril'* liands I wi <h to hu 
 
 \ obilil in triiat, in love, and c»re; 
 What ple>iHe4 hiiu may well plea«e me; 
 
 Oh I livht the orosn faith ^'ives t(»l)ear. 
 Th« n ible«t aim of Christian xesl, 
 
 The highest wish we can fulfill, 
 TK^ turest path to human wAal, 
 
 Ii jufit to aeak oar Father's wi)>. 
 
 FAITH'S RELFASE. 
 
 W&en thy poor aoul, oppreased with care, 
 
 BowR with the load, 
 WheM sbalt thou bring the burden ? Where, 
 
 Buvunto God ? 
 ■When thy poor heart in ohoKed with grief, i . 
 
 And'teafH do •tlow — 
 Thy Father'! help can give relief— 
 
 Unttf him go. 
 
 When thy poor mind is sore perplexed. 
 
 Thy pathwav dark, 
 Faith will lead blindly e'en t^te vexed 
 
 Towards the loark. 
 Sht>ald thy poor faith be even blind, 
 
 It may be stronflr, 
 And in calm eonfidonoe resii{ii9d. 
 
 Walk safe uluni;. 
 
 .1 
 
 When thy poor noul aees all things clear/ 
 
 It walks by seme; 
 It is not faith that leadif it here. 
 
 But faith's pretence. 
 Thit faith is p«>rfect which when tried, . 
 
 Is always peace: 
 A soul to Ood'so cloeely tied, 
 
 Craves no release. 
 
 TROE GLORY. 
 
 m 
 
 Thi heart of the-solJier exalts with tha^glory 
 
 Th tt haugbtily flaunts with the baiitiers uf war. 
 Ami welcomes his death with thu bleeding and gory.^ 
 
 That victory may blazon his name with a star; 
 Onnhtt puthway of bloo.l, tiiumphuntly riding, 
 
 His lieart is inspired with the valorou-i aim, 
 That Mar 4, on the cre.st of ttie war-jlo'id presidin^^, 
 
 May pluck him a plume from the pinions of fame. 
 
 But Ah ! as the war-cloud hasdrifte.1 asunder, 
 
 And sunlight from heaven Hliiues pleisantiy thruugh,- 
 A dire vitiion opens, f)f honor a id wunler, 
 
 For mortHU to ponder And aii^eli^ to view. 
 (Hair lield of nature I how oternly and vastly, 
 
 Has raged here the deatli-tempest, leaving behind 
 'Tl^se wrecks of hiimauity gaping and ghAstiy, 
 
 The tribute ambition demands of our kind. 
 
69 
 
 Oh, forms of th* br«va ! in tbu Larvedt of «lau'^htor, 
 
 T1 ougli DiatiRled «n*l bleeding, you're di'.ir to tlie htMrty 
 Of many a wif^tw. an<! mother. an«l lUuiditor, 
 
 Now left to long mouining, t'orloin iind apart. 
 Were all that bewail you, ye dead and ye dyinp, 
 
 To ktoop by your couclica blood-spultered and gory, 
 Two nationu in anguiRli were •obbint; and Bip;bing!— 
 
 And tbia ia wbal mortals denominate Klory. 
 
 Segone from ray nibiioni, tbe cruel ambition, 
 
 ^Tbat leads to its ^oal throui^b Ruoh pathways of woe. 
 Lord, Kraut me content wit*i my hunibl" condition, 
 
 A^teart to love Theo and Thy creatures below. 
 The fair tlau' of Jeans I Oh I boldly surround it, 
 
 Ye lovbrrt of f oodness, ye loverii of men; 
 Tbe bloud of its rAm never curdled around it, 
 
 It comes with no terrors, no sorrow, no chain. 
 
 The hearts of the wretched rise free and undaunted, 
 
 As boldly that banner flaunts forth on tbe wind, 
 Inscribed with the motto, wbioh angelR have chanted,. 
 
 "E'en pesce'to the earth and eoodwillto mankind.'* 
 Tt cr>me8 with the diatb-blow of fiemlisb oppietition^ 
 
 RestoriRGT the viciou* to virtue and love; 
 And sparin)( the soul from tha doom of ti anogrossiuuv 
 
 It cleanses and fits it for heaven abor.*. 
 
 Oh, soldier of Jesus ! march faithfully, boldly, 
 
 Before thee true honour, before tliee the prize; 
 Ne'er nnnwer the trumpet-call flowly or coliJly, 
 
 Win'vouls for thy Captain and thounhalt lie wise. 
 Oh I wield thou with Courage t!ie sword <ift,>ie 'Spirit, 
 
 For keenly it cuts — and whilu outcing, it heaU; 
 llio Cross be thy watchword, the foeman wh ill hoxr it,- 
 
 Oppoied to thy'arnionr, Iw ntagt^ersand reals. 
 
 lK*deeds of compassion and guodnMB^ abounding, 
 
 The steps ul thy Captain with vigour puibue; 
 N«'er yield to the foe or temptations surruuuding, 
 
 The prize is for all that are faithful and true. 
 The tears ^i' e«l away by thy hand in compatsiont 
 
 Transmur^nii by love, shall be gems in thy crown; 
 The triumphs <*( graou over turuulent pajsion, 
 
 Shall brmg ewtry soldier to endless renown. 
 
 Let love to thy Master impel thee to action, 
 
 Anduno with tby Maxtor and cne with His cause, 
 Ne'»r yield thou thy soul to the Lancful detraction,- 
 
 That springA irom a fondness tor huuan applause. 
 Besembhug tby Master in love to thy b:otliei h, 
 
 Be friend to ihe friundless, uad ^uule tu the blind; 
 The good that thou do^Nt, ropiodiicing in otiiers, 
 
 ISLall ne'er oea.>e to work loi tlie goorl of mankind. 
 
 » ♦ * 
 
60 
 
 ADDBESS TO CHILDllEN. 
 
 
 ;l 
 
 \M 
 
 W 
 
 m 
 
 !| 
 I 
 
 It: 
 
 Now your chfleks aro young aad blooruing, 
 
 Liglit vonr footptepp, light your bearip; 
 Bu'iyant. hope of goodness corninsr, 
 
 (Jheerinpr thougiits to you imparts; 
 lint, in life's sprins-time, remember 
 
 All will not true joy afford, 
 And. whil« yet your hoarts are tender, 
 
 Seek, my dear ones, neek the Lerd. 
 
 Life is not devoid of pleasur** — 
 
 Wo hav ff.lt, if, so hr.vo all; ''■' ^ 
 
 Dealt out with impurtial measure, 
 
 It is tOiarfd by great and small. 
 But amid its sweetest blossom*, '■ ' 
 
 Oh ! how rrlany thornti are stored, 
 That >;ive trouMe to our boaoms; •'• 
 
 ^G' k thf nj'dear ones, sejkthe L:)rd. ' 
 
 Now your briglit eyes beam with gladness, 
 
 Few your car^s, and few yonr fean, 
 Yet ('hall many days of Badness -^ 
 
 Medt you in tuis vale of tears. :■•<■■/■' 
 
 Trials will come and uickness ail you, ' ' 
 
 F^.oni which friends no help afforuj 
 ,But ime Friend will never fail you: ' ■ 
 
 S'ok, my dear ones, seek the Lorcl. 
 
 .Tiove not^earth's uncertain^riches, ' " ■ 
 
 Oft tht-y vex U8 when they're gaine^d, 
 Nor the folly that bewitches, 
 
 But brinijs ruin in the end. •- ' ' * " • 
 yeek for treasures more enduring — 
 
 Tri'asures in Gcd'd Holy Word — 
 NVhich, Chfiat died for, in seouriiig; 
 
 Seek, my dear ones, seek the Lord. ' ' 
 
 He will grant you His salvation ' ' 
 
 He will make your joys abound, 
 Koep you her« from jorj temptation, ,, V 
 
 Lead your souls to heaven beyond. '','.. 
 More than parents, sistsrs, brothers. 
 
 Lot this Frien I bn lov»il, adored; 
 ..tie'f the Fri-md above all other >, 
 
 deck then, dc"vr ones, seek the Loi'd. !,' 
 
 
 );..i 
 
 > 
 
61! 
 
 OUE LITTLE WGims. 
 
 Alab ! 'tie liaid lor us to tell 
 
 Wliat little wordfi m.- y do; 
 Our little words, I fear wo Jail, 
 
 To pay attention to; 
 "What power tliey Ijav.e to cure, to kili^ 
 To ttir tip strife or make it still, 
 Wlint )'ow» r they liavn for j,'ood or ill, 
 
 We'd wonder if we knew. 
 
 Our weighty wordH we nicely weigh — 
 
 Apain, a^;ain, x-eview, 
 Lest they mean mora than we would say. 
 
 And Fo mischief ensue; 
 But little wordfl receive no care, 
 We talk them off, and never spare, 
 At home, nbioad, or anytvhyre. 
 
 Ne'er thinking what tliey do. 
 
 Ajad yet our word?, the grr at and dmall, 
 
 If finmmed — 'twould make us stare, 
 T( find how large a part of all, 
 
 1 lie latter truly were; 
 AX'A were all their refiuUs reviewed, 
 The harm they've done as wj-U as good^ 
 "We'd f carce' believe they really could 
 Have done so large a share. 
 
 Ah yes ! these little words of ours. 
 
 A wond'rouB magic Lave, 
 To fweften life in trying liours 
 
 And make the timid brave. 
 To cheer a heart and dry a tear. 
 Inspire a hope and calm n fear, 
 To strew with blospoms, all the year. 
 
 Our pathways to the grave. 
 
 The flower that shrinkfl with fowering head, 
 
 From tempests drpncliing through. 
 Yet springs with ardent blushing blade, 
 
 To catch its drops ot dew; 
 Thus many a heart in life's domain, 
 Jmbibei? tijore vigour for the strain 
 From drops of comfort, than the rain 
 That wit and learning brew. 
 
 So li*.tle wordp, e'en lightly said, 
 
 Aicnot wit'jout effcc; 
 And ni.iny a heart rf quires their aid 
 
 In hardship and neglect; 
 And httlf* words when winged by prayer, 
 AVf know, are puttnt everywhere, 
 To warm, to comfort in despair, 
 
 To lighten, or direct. 
 
62 
 
 m 
 
 Tier, ChiiBtian, mind thy little words, 
 
 Amid both peace and strife, 
 For lancets may, as well as Bwords, 
 
 Preserve or take a lite; 
 And mind — no matter wlier ? or when — 
 Thy little words ilo ijood to men, 
 Thns will thy path be always plain, 
 Tliy words with blosa-nsfs rife. 
 
 No false pr()fe='8ion make, be true. 
 
 Have salt within thy lieark, 
 Then wiU thy words be seasonad tio, 
 
 Witlumt deceitful art; 
 So wdl thj' little words be Idest, 
 So will no influence run to wasta. 
 So will thy light be manifest, 
 
 And good lo all impart. 
 
 * ♦ * 
 
 BALMORAL ON THE DEE. 
 
 I've travelled many a weary mile 
 
 In lands beyond th» Sea, 
 Ab bIbo in ray Native Isle, 
 
 Where well I love to be; 
 Yfet I have never, never, seen. 
 Home more romantic, grand, serene, 
 Than that of Britain's noble Queen, 
 
 Balmoral on the D?e. 
 
 Here aits Babuoral as a bride, 
 
 Amid her cosybowpra, 
 And Dee sweeps pa'<t her rushing tide, 
 
 With banks adorned with flowers. 
 And here, beneath a bracing sky, 
 Do treen, and floods, and moaotains high, 
 'Combine to guard and beautify 
 
 Balmoral on the Dee. 
 
 "'Here 'hnnnie gowana' deok the green, 
 
 And heather climbs the 'braes', 
 And birch and fir-tree fling their screen, 
 
 O'er all the mountain maze. 
 While stately snow-capped Loebnagar, 
 Witti giunt kindred, near and far, 
 All watch and ward, through peace or war, 
 Balmoral on the Dee. 
 
 I wonder not our nobh Qaean, 
 
 Ib happy h'.'ie to stay, 
 Thisouarmiag glan hur uoms has bsen, 
 
 For many a pleasant day 
 Here lived she many a happy year, 
 Her huBbaaJ aad hor c'jil.hoii near — 
 'Sare' to her widowed heart ii dear, 
 
 Balmoral on the Dee. 
 
m 
 
 Here every Dioiuitai'i, rock, and.troe, 
 
 Hrp Si en her giieu and joye, 
 And hcaid htr hiuglitir and iitr gloe, 
 
 Antl l.euulhei- v»eeping v< ice. 
 And ytt, though not iha home thou WAst, 
 Thou whispiiu! t u emuries of the past, 
 Wliieh soi th her »pirit wh«u down-cast, 
 
 BfJmojal ou the D<;e. 
 
 God spare for hmg our noble Queen, 
 
 To !ovo her Hij/hland Homo, 
 And msko thc»e mountaini gtill the scene, 
 
 On which bhe loves t<* roam. 
 And in a futu\e age of life. 
 Will long be loved in peace or atrife. 
 The memory of thy Grand Qoodwife, 
 
 Balmrial on the Dee. 
 
 TEMPERANCE SONG. 
 
 "While arourd are thousands sinking. 
 
 In the ^lo^lgh of drunkennesB, 
 Ci.n we pitiless, vnthinkiuR, 
 
 Hivve no care for their diatieps. 
 ShjiU we 8f e onr kindred slaughtered, 
 
 Anil we hiedlesb standing by ? 
 ■ Happy Lons(*l.xild8 poeled and Bcattered, 
 
 And not thout a warning cry ? 
 
 Alt net chterfnl homes deserted, 
 
 Or mi de hum ts ol tears and sighs ? 
 Ale rotth< uFardH biokfn lieaited 
 
 By 'h,t bi«nplul awful vice? 
 Are n( t jraytp and prif.onR filling, 
 
 "VMll itti ^ictimll every day ? 
 TAi^ eh nud chiUirt n slarving, killing, 
 
 Panr.ts weeping in dihmay ? 
 
 Friends of mankind, friends of Jesus, 
 
 Ever prompt in «uaging grief, 
 Fast the monster ill increases. 
 
 Send more help to the relief. 
 Parcnis, who delight in seeing, 
 
 Children walk in Wipdom's way. 
 While yon pray for thfirwellbeing, 
 
 Warn them, warn them, ere they etray. 
 
 Smiling Sisters, look not ever. 
 
 On the glauce intl-iuied by wine. 
 It brin^rs anguish— may yoix never, 
 
 Know this at too htte a time. 
 O ye Young Mt'n ! though it sparkles, 
 
 There is madnesf, in the glass, 
 •■•(.Kt it foains in jovial circles — 
 
 It might conquer— let it pass. 
 
fill 
 
 I 
 
 ei 
 
 One and rU, that see with sadness. 
 
 Drvinkenness lay waste our land, 
 We dhnll bail your aid with glpilness, 
 
 Join ! O join our Temperance Band. 
 
 SPEING. 
 
 Spring, Bweot Spring, 
 
 Hath arrived again 
 He hath passed thb hill, 
 
 He hath trod the plain, 
 Htf hath told the wooda 
 To put forth their budg. 
 And the fields to make ready 
 For Rowing g,rain. 
 
 Spring, Bweet Spring 
 
 To our door has come. 
 And is teaching the rose 
 
 To put lorth its biooin. 
 Pulling up vile weeds, 
 Planting down good seeds, 
 And diHpensing all over 
 Hid sweet peifume. 
 
 Spring,i»wset Spring, 
 
 11 ow he thaws the snow, 
 How he cheers each thing 
 With bif; kin'ily glow; 
 The but teiili'-'H flock, 
 And tlie glad fiOgs croak. 
 And the merry bu'ds sing out 
 I'oi- gladnuas so. 
 
 Spring, sweet Spring, 
 
 Now a year ha.s passed, 
 We've had griefs and joys 
 Sinco wo paw thee last. 
 Friends have left our home 
 And some new ones come, 
 And time has been w».aring and 
 Thinning us fant. 
 
 Spring, sweet Spring, 
 
 Could our hearts discern, ., 
 Thou hast things to teach 
 
 It were good toleain. 
 Like Grace in the heart. 
 Thou cnubt make lile start, 
 And the (le9ert to blossom, 
 
 Once bleak and stern. 
 
 Spring, sweet Spring, 
 
 Is'ow how changed the scene, 
 Since the earth was decked 
 
 Jn thy robes of green, 
 Such a change men bear — 
 In God's sight — who wear 
 The sweet robe of Redemption, 
 
 All white aud clean. 
 
 Springy sweet Spring, 
 
 ' The swuet flowerets spread . 
 By thy hand laat year, 
 
 Seemed all down and dead. 
 Now they burt-t theii" tomb, 
 And when Christ shall came, 
 Thus shall we too arise from 
 
 Death 'tj retting' btd. 
 
 Spring, sweet Spring, 
 
 'Tis a pleasant time, 
 When the farmer sows 
 
 In thy sweet sunshine; 
 Ah I let Saints take heed 
 Too, that they sow seed, 
 Whde the day is not spent and 
 The weather lino. 
 
 Spring, sweet Spring, 
 We are here to-day. 
 
 But thou'lt come sometime, 
 And find us away. 
 
 But we don't regret, 
 
 For a happier state 
 
 In the heavens awaits u?. 
 While here we si ay. 
 
 • ^ c • 
 
efr 
 
 THAT NIGHT WHEN WILLIE DIED.^ 
 In memory of Willie Young, the fascinating chihS 
 of tuo dear Heiatiren, in Glaxgow, Scotland. 
 
 irn, 
 
 scene, 
 ed 
 
 aption, 
 
 spread 
 
 I dead, 
 xib, 
 ome, 
 from 
 
 le; 
 i 
 
 mt and. 
 
 Oh I it was hard to my Adieu ! 
 
 Adieu, to Willie dear; 
 How dear our child, we never knew, 
 
 While he was w'^h u^-here. 
 With all his romping, winning ways. 
 
 Our Willi* was onr pride — 
 Oh I saddest day of all onr day? ,. 
 . Was ihut when Willie died. 
 
 But five brief jearp, or little more. 
 
 Had pahbed biuce Willie came; 
 He made life brighter than beinre, 
 
 And Bweetened every aim; 
 Hia future Btood in ever^^ scheme,. 
 
 In. every work we tried— 
 Alap ! all perished like a drfam, 
 
 That night when Willie died. 
 
 WLerr'tr we wander'd, in or out,. 
 
 Our W)Uiew*nt along, 
 HiB meri'y laugh, hi* liiiging aboutr 
 
 Wert music fcU^Uay K'r.g, 
 But all this music 60un was hushed, 
 
 Hib pretence htre dtuied — 
 And Oh 1 our hearts were sadly crushed, 
 
 That^night vUitn Willi^died 
 
 How oft we saw him when we dmamed. 
 
 And woke and groaned witli pain. 
 To find that smile — Oh ! sweet it seemed — 
 
 Would ne'er be oura agaiii'; 
 And Oh I our hearts with grief grew wild. 
 
 As every hour was sp-icd. 
 Some desr mt^mento of our child — 
 
 The Willie that hsd died. 
 
 Hip cup, his clothing, or his shoes, 
 
 Hip plaTthinpp, laid away. 
 The 'nickraoks'jhe was wont'to use, 
 
 All Ktung us with dismay. 
 And Oh ! to be to God resigned. 
 
 How oft our spirits tried. 
 But e er the thought wnnld crush the mind,. 
 
 The thought that Willie died. 
 
 But Oh I the Good Lord saw our grief 
 
 And led onr hearts by prayer. 
 To seek in Him tlie true Ri-lief, 
 
 We found it then and there. 
 We grieve no more for Willie now — 
 
 His loM was sanctified — 
 Bor God sent blessina: with the blow, 
 
 That night when Willie died. 
 
6ti 
 
 
 DEBT. 
 
 O Debt, wretched Debt, cVm^hia early anl late— 
 
 Oh ! who but a kuavte, would be happy iu debt ? 
 We'd rather go tramping and carry a pack, 
 
 Or beg for our bread, with a bAg oa oar back. 
 And. dint) m the fielas, witha aiump for a table, 
 
 And lodge over night in a barn or a stable. 
 Than live in a mansion in grandeur and state, 
 
 The mis'rable wretoh that is hkuntei with debt. 
 
 Oh ! what is more easy than getting in debt ? 
 
 And common enough it bai grown too, of late — 
 Some man too ambitious, not seeing bis way. 
 
 Just a^kn of a friend, with a promise to pay, 
 Then ouo l»a;gard neighbour inveigles an itlier, 
 
 And thus it goes on with no end of the bother, 
 Till all social life has a staggering gait. 
 
 From this wretched habit of getting in debt. 
 
 A KrXG OF HIS KIND. 
 
 'The man wbo'is willing, with body or mitid. 
 
 To work for his bread, ii a King of hislcind — j 
 
 Whether swaying a aoeptre or holding a plow, 
 Trne manliness sits on his dignified brew; 
 
 "That man, while he Utss, the Commonwealth blesses— 
 That man, when he dies, the Commonwealth misses. 
 
 Away with the Idler, flmt covets his spoil — 
 
 Too lazy to earn it by dignified toil; 
 O'er such. Mother Earth, as she gives him a grave, 
 
 Will wiite on his ooffin, "Thou Indolent Slave — \ 
 To nurture such idlers, I cannot afford, 
 
 TUeir work does not pay for their bed and their board'.^ 
 
 OLD FA THER TIME. 
 
 An lioary with -ages, yet ever strong, 
 Old Father Tiote marches swiftly along, 
 Measuring out momenta to old and young, 
 
 The doubtful span — 
 The weal and the woe, with the right and wrong, 
 
 ■*Gf ewry man. 
 
 We build and we build, whde he we^rj and wears, 
 W« weave and we weave, while he tdar* an 4 t^ars, 
 Nor priuceling, aoc ptjasaut, nor pne«t, lui spares, 
 
 Nor short, nor tall. 
 Nor youth, middle age, nor thd hoary hairs — 
 
 He humbles all. 
 
 The death- stricken wretch in his last alarms, 
 The lovfe-smitten swain, in his rai^tte^n ariuc», 
 The .gay festive board with its vooal oliarms, 
 
 Implore his stay — 
 Yet heedless of all whom his pro.^re<.s harinn, 
 
 He hies away. 
 
:He will not be moved by o«r teara and 8igb«i, 
 lie will not be hired by the rich or wise, 
 Nor will aught, that learning and wit devise, 
 
 Arrest hit flixht, 
 Till his tread resounds in celestial skief, 
 
 Or hell's dark night. 
 
 Unfeeling, unmoTed, as the scythe he sweeps, 
 Thus onward, e'er onward, this mower rea^js, 
 liakins; and rotting Earth's beftuty in heapj, 
 
 Oi stnseleBS clay — 
 All ehangod. Rare the d. om of the duot that sleeps, 
 
 At the Gieai-Day. 
 
 EW bearing, new forms on the road or street, 
 E'er hearing off others, we Uhcd to meet, 
 Allotting to each both the gall and sweet, 
 
 Of-life's compound, 
 The smiles and the te us, and tlie winding sheet, 
 
 Of grave profound. 
 
 Now tracking out crime through the shade and gloom, 
 L»iagg)ng the guilty to mtnted doom, 
 Cuibing ambition by giving it room. 
 
 In one small grave — 
 Oppresstjd and. oppressor, a common tomb, 
 
 The peer and slave. 
 
 Now plucking the crown from the brow of kings, 
 Or crunhinp; proud nations beneath his wrugs. 
 Confounding the wise with bin foolish things, 
 
 - He ne'ur Qsjoles — 
 The heart «nd its idol»i«like hefling^i. 
 
 To bats ttitd moles. 
 
 But there is a power 'that reAists his sway, 
 A beauty that lime even can't decay, 
 A garb of the soul, that he never may, 
 
 -Corrode or rust. 
 These lire irith the totil, when its house ot oUy, 
 
 Sinks into dust. 
 
 The image of Christ on a soul impreHsed, 
 And the germ of iaith in a sinful breast, 
 Of hope «nd of love, in a spirit^blest, 
 
 Defy his sway; 
 These, Time may adoiti, but can never waate, 
 
 They live for aye. 
 
 Even Time himself shall at last expire—. 
 And his funeral pile, be a world on iire — * 
 
 But hearts fall of faith and ot high desire, 
 
 Shall know no end; 
 . And the truth of God shall remain entire, 
 
 And BtiJ] exteiiJ. 
 
NO PLACE LIK' liOMT . 
 
 m 
 
 When chill, Btoriuv,windd hiuo i/ um ^.)lowmg, 
 
 And roads have beeu r 'di' -a d -v ;, 
 And it has been raining or siio .ig, 
 And we have been travelling luce; 
 How aweet to us eeem, on rttturning, 
 
 Oar own pleasant home and ita hearth, 
 Itt chaerful lire craclclins aul burning. 
 
 Its tea-dishe* jiagling for mirt»i — 
 Onr loving wife amiling to greet u«, 
 
 "With warm, ^entl* squeeze to'hor breast, 
 Our little ones jumping to meet u.'^, 
 
 That they may be kiHRed aad oareased — 
 Our clean toble, burdonod and smoking, 
 
 With wholesome and comfocting obeur, . 
 As Heaven's bent blessing invoking, 
 
 We sit round with nil to us ilear — 
 Aod in a quiet chat and confidiot;. 
 
 We talk of our comfoi tti and friends, . 
 And treasures in heaven abiding, 
 
 When all this felicity ends — 
 With many a grau f ul reflection, 
 
 And many a comfortin>r thought; 
 Suggested by household affection, 
 
 And by thu rough tempest without— 
 And many un inward tbaaksgiviug,. 
 
 And many a prayerful nigh, 
 That God who tbuo blesses us living, .. 
 May bless us still more when we die. 
 
 UP AND DOING. 
 
 [file scheming, childish tattle, »-i, 
 What avails this useless prattle, , . 
 Talkituj never fights tlw-battle, ,. 
 Up and doing , up and doing, .. 
 
 Everu man — 
 All hard at it, ahinys at it — 
 That '5 the plan. 
 
 All our plans — the best concerted — 
 Will not make the world converted, 
 If no labour he exerted, 
 
 Up and doing, up and doing, 
 ", &c., &c.. 
 
 All the world in sin is lying, i , , j 
 All around are thousands dying, . ,, 
 Ho ! all hands, he up and tri/ing, . 
 Up and doinij, up and d ting, 
 
 &t'. , &C., : ,• T ,j 
 
 Up, O Churches ! Cease to drirel, 
 Fh'each the gospel, fight the devil, 
 ffhier the good, rebuke tlie evil — 
 Up and doing^ up and doing. 
 
 &,(■., &c. 
 
fj* 
 
 J ao/J'JMX /.ESSOX, 
 
 A Mortal Las gone from tim 
 A Mortal — but wLo can tc-11, 
 
 Whether to happier clime ? 
 Whether to h«»v«u or hell ? 
 
 Whether to glory Rublime, 
 Or ever to weep and wall ? 
 
 With health on hie ruddy brow, 
 With fim in his uparkling eye, 
 
 Who thought — ^jubt one week ago— 
 This youth would so shortly die ? 
 
 Alas I moitals little know, 
 
 When Death may bo standing by. 
 
 Laid past a few days from toil, 
 Confined to his room and chair, * 
 
 'llo'll riwe in a little while," 
 Friends said, as they saw him there; 
 
 Ala« ! as they saw him smile^ 
 
 They never once said, "Prepare.". 
 
 Then sore, agonizing pain 
 Caused many a groan and sigh. 
 
 Then crazed, with bewildered brain, 
 He raved4 and got wild and high' — 
 
 They ne'er had a chance again 
 To say, "Friend, Prepare to die." 
 
 Never Oh 1 never Bgai«, 
 Did Beawm resumfi her Rway, 
 
 And never one hout froiu pain, 
 And never one hour to pray, 
 
 And never a Token when 
 His Spirit had pasHed away. 
 
 O Sinners, do now prepare ! 
 
 While still you are strong and well; 
 For health is the time of prayer, 
 
 The time to escape from hell; 
 And Death never warns us where, 
 
 Or whom he may next assail. 
 
 MEECY TO THE CHIEF OF SIXXEBS. 
 
 S 
 
 Oh ! onc« J was a stranger 
 To Jesus' gentle away, 
 
 My soul in dreadful danger, 
 My footsteps T. • astray. 
 
 This woild vr?.' • 
 I loved its '.' • 
 
 I bad no h*arv v j 
 
 For high 
 
 my treasure, 
 
 i. < -7 toys, 
 isYBure 
 
 'i' J03'R, 
 
70 
 
 With heart peiverKe, yot aohing,. 
 
 1 livtd iuiuittt'titsd lu bin, 
 lu all tlu8, harder making, 
 
 The stony voiJ within; 
 From every eaineitt pleading 
 
 Uf Jesus in my ear, 
 I turned away unhet-ding. 
 
 And shbok off Uotily tear. 
 
 But Oh ! Divine Compaugiua, 
 
 How boundleiia muHt it be. 
 To bow to bring, ralvation 
 
 To any wrt-toh like me; 
 God atuoped, with grace amazing. 
 
 To fave His erring onr, 
 And pardon, pcftce, and blesaing, 
 
 Imparted through His lijon. 
 
 *0 Grace Divine I I wonder 
 
 Thou did^t so long forbear, 
 And not with tones of thunder, 
 
 Conbign me to despair. 
 Yet, in my own rrtdumpcion, 
 
 I learn good hope for all — 
 God Raven, without e:(emption, 
 
 All Fonla that on him call. 
 
 » ♦ » 
 
 REMINISCENCES.— Addretaed to my Canadian Wife,^ 
 on my revisiting, in her company, the home of my hoy- 
 hood in Scotland, after an absence of 31 years. 
 
 m 
 
 O'er Land and Sea, for many a mile, 
 
 You've come, my Love, with me — 
 A stranger to my Native Isle, 
 
 My early home to sea; 
 On thip sweet bank we'll take a seat, 
 
 Though now no berries grow — 
 Here did I eat'them,Urgo and sweet, 
 
 Some forty years ago. 
 
 The hilla behind still grow with woodi 
 
 Ab then they used to grow; 
 Yon old 'fell-dyke' ia as it stood, 
 
 And all the vale below, , 
 Blit of its many inmates who 
 
 Are living:— high or low — 
 Just three remain of all I knew, 
 
 Some torty years ago. 
 
 Yba see yon tall trees and the mill, 
 
 Low standing by the burn, 
 Short-while ago the wiieel was still — 
 
 Now see it slowly turn; — 
 ITou see yon old house ktaading nigh^ 
 
 With windows all aglow, 
 Around them all I played a boy, 
 
 S»me forty y9ar» rgo. 
 
71 
 
 Yuu know my Mother well, my dear. 
 
 You know and love her too, 
 She IK now in hor ninetieth year — 
 
 An age bat reached by f«w; 
 TbouRh now she liTes far, far, away 
 
 In broad Ontario, 
 A happy wife, for many a day, 
 
 She lived here long ago. 
 
 In yon old garden (tanding near. 
 
 No moee-houBe now yon »m, 
 But there was one once in the rear — 
 
 A mops-bDUBe bnilt by me. 
 Around the hedge, now big and tall. 
 
 You eee the 'g(*Q'tr«ee' grow — 
 By my own hand were planted all. 
 
 Some forty years aga. 
 
 You Bee yon oryBtal, babbling burn 
 
 Bun winding through the Tale 
 By bower and 'brae', with many a turn, 
 
 I know its windings woU; 
 How oft upon its flowery banks,. 
 
 I've rambled to and fro', 
 And fished and played my youthful pranks,. 
 
 Some forty years ago. 
 
 In that old homo, so dear to me. 
 
 Two bridalu I have seen,. 
 And mauy a party, met for glee, 
 
 In snow or Summer greeu. 
 And irom that home, I've seen a bier 
 
 Twice travel sad and blow, 
 A Hibter's and a Father's dear,. 
 
 Some lorty years ago. 
 
 Oh ! things do ohaogr, and we with them,. 
 
 Are ever changing too, 
 The hills, th^ valo, aio still the same, 
 
 But little else wu view; 
 But Oh 1 there is a Hom<> above. 
 
 Where thoae that liveJ below, 
 Shall meet and live in bond') of love, 
 
 Unchanged from long ago. 
 
 ♦ '• 
 
 TOUTH'S HOME.— Dedicated to my beovedjiiter 
 
 Margaret, late of Fyvie, and how oflni. rurie, 
 
 Aberdeenahirc, Scotland. 
 
 Youth's Home I How sweet it all appears, 
 
 Su long, long, ago 
 Time but the vision more endears, 
 Through all the misty, fading years, 
 Of sunny hopes and drizzly fears — 
 
 In Life's weal and woT; 
 
Onr bearti w«re little touched by care. 
 The long, long, tgo. 
 
 Unheeding weather, foul or fair, 
 
 We rambled in the open air. 
 
 At home, abroad, or anywhere, 
 
 The long, long, ago. 
 
 We olimbed the heath'ry mountain ateep, 
 The long, long, ago, 
 
 Or down in bosky valleys deep, 
 
 Wonld watch the wandering 'burnies' creep, 
 
 Or oatoh the minnows when asleep, 
 
 The long, long, ago. 
 
 Vfe ate 'blaeberries' on the braai, 
 
 The long, long, ago, 
 Or in the greenwoods bad our plays, 
 At 'bide and seek' or otuer ways, 
 Till sunset closed the happy days 
 
 Of long, long, ago. 
 
 Our feet were seldom long at rest, 
 
 The long, long, ago. 
 Now climbing to a monntain's crest. 
 Now hunting for a 'birdie's' nest, 
 Or after wild-flowers on the waste, 
 
 The long, long, ago. 
 
 We loved to see the Summer nigh. 
 
 The long, long, ago, 
 To hear the 'laverock' in the sky. 
 The 'ptesweep's' and onckoo's reply, 
 Or watch thu bee go humming by 
 
 The long, long, ago. 
 
 We've wandered many a weary mile, 
 
 Since long, long, ago, 
 Had many a tiresome care and toil, 
 Met mucu of kindness and of guile, 
 Seen many a tear and many a smile, 
 
 Since long, long, ago. 
 
 We would not wish to live again. 
 
 The long, long, ago — 
 
 But Oh I the scenes we haunted then. 
 
 And dear compauiond of our train, 
 
 Will ever Imger in our ken 
 
 From long, long, ago. 
 
 We will not yet bid a Good-bye v V 
 Tj *• TT To long, long, ago, 
 
 jBut m yon Home bt-yona tUe my. 
 With all our dear Oiiea g*thored nigh, 
 We'll ttiink and talk, without a tinh, 
 Of Ion;,', long, ago. 
 
 Wit 
 
 Vhi 
 
 li 
 
75 
 
 SPOILED JOHNXr. 
 
 The 'Howilie' brought 'b«n' in her boiuin a Ud, 
 
 A lad, little, blinking, and bonny; 
 The u.ctLer wum pleased and the lather was glad, 
 
 And vuTved that hia name should be Johnny. 
 
 When through with the nursing of earlier dayi, 
 And through with the troubles of teething. 
 
 So cunning and winning grew Jack in his ways, 
 That ne'er such another waa breathing. 
 
 So strange were bis taymgn, lo odd were his tricki, 
 
 So quaint weio hia lun and bis dafTing, 
 TLat e'en when tha 'Nickum' deterved his iiokp, 
 
 His 'Ma' scarce' could «et- whip him for laughing. 
 
 He'd harnaaa the cat, he would ride on tha dog, 
 
 And teach A-B-C'a to the kitten; 
 And these seemed to like to haTe fun with the rogue, 
 
 He rarely get icratchcd or waa bitten. 
 
 On chair or on'table waa never a dish, 
 
 Bui Johnny was sure to be tipping, 
 "When allita contents would go o'«r with a swish — 
 
 And Johnny himself would be dripping. 
 
 Now^climbing aloft on the back of a ohair, 
 
 Now down on the floor on his bottom, 
 Then off through the garden aa fleet m a hare, 
 
 Or spmning around like a 'tottem '. 
 
 'Ma'whipa him, and hi^t b him, and calls him her d«tr, 
 And tries him with love and with money, 
 
 To give up his tricks and amend hia careeV, 
 But never a button cares Johnny. 
 
 She vows, if the 'Howdie^ bring more like her Jack, 
 
 Be it either sister or brother, 
 She'll flee from the country and never -come back. 
 
 She'd die with their teasmg^and bother. 
 
 ANOTHER TEA-MEETING ADDRESS.— HOME, SWEET HOME, 
 ■With iomething like the ordinary introductory apology andjoke$y done up in verte. 
 
 Chairman, Ladies, and Gentlemen, — 
 
 The rich and great 
 Take liberties in Church and State, 
 That other men dare never try • 
 "Without apology, — so I 
 Do my apology concede 
 For the address I choose to read. 
 
 ForcakinR pros*, I speak in rhyme, 
 Not in Miltonic phrase sublime. 
 
Put in tbis ranting:, raying meMure, 
 Wherein, I tiope, to give you plaasur*, 
 Besides some goad adrioo to obeer 
 And help you on your life's oareer. 
 
 Tbis is no elegy or song— 
 lou'U find out as I read i^ong, 
 But just a quaint tea-meeting speech, , 
 Int(»nded t<» amuse and teaoh. 
 
 Expect my Pegasus to steer 
 By no net dtyle or phrases here — 
 Bnt just one style, and then auotber, 
 A* suits my whim or saves me bother;— 
 
 For a little deviation 
 From the old ruts of exprension, 
 In plain spreoh or graud oration, 
 Forms a pleasing variation; 
 And most people of the nation- 
 Be tliey high or low in station — 
 Don't dislike the innovation, 
 If conductei with discretion, 
 And well answers the occasion — 
 Not too dry to cau^e vexation. 
 
 When speeches aie dry« all the people complain, 
 Al^d don't wixh to hear nuoh doliverad again; 
 At pulpit or platform, thHre'ti never a sin, 
 For w!iioh thtrir forgivtine-i* is har.ier to win; 
 And -jaany a joke do iihe young and old crack 
 At dry-speaker's cost, when about is his ba3k, 
 And not only, bo, — but before him ai well, 
 A9 witness the following* story I tell:—' 
 
 "A pastor once Laving a station, to preach at, "^ 
 
 Got fearfully wet ere he managed to reach it, 
 And meeting a lew of hia friends at the gate, 
 Asked what h^ would do in his water-soaked state, 
 'Deed, Sir,' said an old wifo, with roguish like air, 
 'Gang into the pulpit, you'll be dry enough thers'.'^— — < 
 
 n 
 
 Now, friends, I will try 
 To avoid being dry, 
 And give such variety, 
 As can with propriety, 
 Be nsetl in my sot erne 
 Of haailHng my theme, 
 Which I will announce, 
 To you now at once: — 
 It is,*Home. Sweet Home.' 
 
 Oh I no place like home; — 
 les, so gays the poet, 
 And well do we know it, 
 Wherever we roam — 
 There's no place lika home.— 
 
 if preferred, 
 
 passages in it- 
 
 (Uicsmay b« 
 
 Oh Iiow all our pulses da hound at the word ! 
 
 What gladneti it hringa to our ears, 
 What love and what poetry in it are stored. 
 
 What melody, laughter, and tears. 
 
76 
 
 It may he a cabin axiay in the %rood$. 
 Where birds wake iheforeit at dnwn, 
 
 And Nature yet reigns in her haughtiest moods. 
 Untamed and untutored by man. 
 
 It may be a villa in tidier place. 
 
 In suburb of city or town; 
 No matter its place — it has ever a grace, 
 
 A beauty, and glory, its own. 
 
 Away by the camp-Jires of soldierly fame. 
 
 Afar on the blue rolling deep, 
 Each brave British heart gives a hound at the name. 
 
 The bravest and manliest weep. 
 
 And ever and ever, wherever men i/o 
 
 On God's fair and hountiftl earth, 
 2 heir hearts travel back in their (jladness or woe 
 
 With joy to the home of their htr'h. 
 
 O Home, dearest Home ' in thy cosy abode, 
 
 All nursed on the bosom of prayer, 
 Do grow up the sons and the daughters of God, 
 
 The worthy, the manly, the fair. 
 
 As long as within thee, the Lord shall be sought. 
 
 And in thee true virtue. He see, 
 So long the broad flag of our rountry shall float 
 
 O'er hearts that are happy and free. 
 
 » ^ 
 
 Ah t Home, sweet Home ot early days, 
 What wond'rouH power hast thou to raise 
 Our hearts worn out with earn and worry; 
 And whiles we laugh, and while* we're sorry — 
 As missing eohool-matcs tVoru our ranks — 
 We lunk hack at our early pranks. 
 
 Don't yon remember, when a boy, 
 The mad-cap tricks you used to try; — 
 Whiles, cop3 ing from the Sadler's art, 
 Yon hitched the kitten to a cart — 
 Or more ambitious — made a waggon, 
 And for a horse, you put the dog in; 
 Or tired of this— you snared the Hvarrowg. 
 Or Rhot the pigs with bf)W» and arrows — 
 Your arrows sticking in tlu: pork, 
 Made Mammy spanK you for year work. 
 Or bent on mischief — graoelesa scamp, 
 You Hqnirted water on the lanjp. 
 And made old Grunny, m her ira, 
 lift fall her needle iu the fire, 
 And singe her stookinK with a spark — 
 Then nil unnoticed m the diirk — 
 At quiflk she caught you by the jacket. 
 And tbrahbtd yuu till you raised a racket. 
 
 Another day — jou mind it well — 
 You tied a liranch to Boa^y's tail; 
 Then sitting on it as yonr cUariot, 
 Your reckless folly bound to carry out, 
 
 "G«e Buck," you shniited, off she cantared, 
 While you shouted, sung, and bantered, 
 
76 
 
 Over height and over holloTr, 
 Heedleis who might sea or follow, 
 Proud as Pharaoh king of old, 
 In Lin chariot of goM, 
 Bossy'fi spe^d, each step increanng — 
 For ahe lelt the strain unceasing — 
 Till she £»all»ped like a deer 
 On hflr headlong mad career. 
 No set pathway e'er confined her, 
 On she flew and you behind her. 
 Till you fihonted in your banter, 
 •'You could beat e'en Tarn o' Shanter". 
 
 Ah I your tritimph waB but short — 
 Mammy spied you at your tport, 
 And her Johnny, when she sought him, 
 Tried to dodge lier, but she got him, 
 O'l-r her kneeB she deftly brought him, 
 And she ppanked him on the bottom; 
 
 And sprawling and bawling, 
 In vain were all your kieki; 
 
 She lathed you and thrashed you 
 To cur* you of your tricks. 
 
 'Twas thuB, my friends, that you and I 
 
 Did Home queer things m d%yn gone by: 
 
 And oft ourpareniR did forbid them — 
 
 And thrash un too— but itill we did them. 
 
 'Tis strange to tbiuk these once wore joys 
 
 To you and rae, grey-heardad boy«. 
 And then what fun and royal oheer 
 
 We had at Christmas or New Year, 
 
 "When greeting merrily the folks, 
 
 We asked of each a Christmas box. 
 
 No toil had we or care to worry ufl, 
 
 Our lieart"? were light, our fun was glorious; 
 
 We sought no brandy, gin, or whiskey. 
 
 To dull our pains or make us frisky; 
 
 But we, of coarse, would ne'er refuse 
 
 To share our mothc-'s Ohristraaa gooaa. 
 
 Or i-pond some hours — Oh ! sweet we thoaght them- 
 
 At the bewitching game, the 'Tottem.' 
 And then yon mmd how Santa Glaus — 
 
 The ^ly old rascal that he was — 
 
 As (>leek bad swarthy as a Hindoo, 
 Would watch the lights at every window, 
 
 Till fll in bed were sleeping sound, 
 
 Then mount tho house-top with abound. 
 
 And mewling three times like a cat. 
 (I've heard him in tUe highest flat,) 
 Ht 'd climb the ohimuey with a dash. 
 And down the stove-pipe like a flash, 
 And find without the iihghtest noise, 
 The Blockings of the girls aud boys — 
 I've often wonderad how he knew them — 
 He'd stuff all sorts of things into them, 
 Great <h)ll8 and nuts, queer odds and ends, 
 A Christm i^-bo'i to Iiis y'lnj,' fricnls, — 
 Then up the stove-pipe, as he came. 
 To some place el le to do the«a4ne. 
 E'er welcome to our home he was, 
 The dear old kindly Santa Claus. — - — 
 
 ^fii 
 
77 
 
 Oh ! is it a u-onder our mxnd$ Invf to ponder 
 
 Thf friends and thefroUa of old ! 
 To early days faded, the mind tor ely jaded, 
 
 Tumi oft at to treaturei of gold. 
 
 Wherever we tratter by land or by water. 
 
 So long at life' t journey ihall lait, 
 The wordi Home and Mother bring thoughtt that no othvT 
 
 Can ever bring upfront the patt. 
 
 JEaeh tcene and each antio, grave, gay, or romantioy 
 
 Shinet back on the toul in a breath, — 
 And after all other, the wordt Home and Mother 
 
 Are oft tlie last murmured in death. 
 
 Ah ! hotue'i the place fur prxparntion 
 
 For lift) and wurk in every itAtion: , 
 
 The firit and greatest education 
 
 Ih taught at home: 
 Our schools, as second in relation, 
 
 Do next it come. 
 
 Where did onr martitl Sires acquire 
 That pluck, endurance, and desire, 
 That built up Britain's grand empire, 
 
 O'er land and nea ? 
 Just at the old home by tlie fire. 
 
 At parent's knee. 
 
 On this great globe whero is the pale, 
 That hath not seen her flag or af,fl, 
 Gr heard her drum-roll on t'le r,'«le, 
 
 Or cannon's thunder ?' 
 A power few nations d«'e' assail; 
 
 But see with wonder. 
 
 E'en so her greatness and her rule 
 Are felt o'er all Qod's fair footstool: 
 By what means, ask both sage and fooU 
 
 Did God exalt her ? 
 Each home within her is a Rcbool, 
 
 And each an altar. 
 
 E'en Wellington's well planned campaign 
 And Nelson's skill hud failed to gnin 
 Their splendid victories , and obtain 
 
 lieuown and booty. 
 But for the homes that gave them men 
 
 That did their duty. 
 
 In all else too, as 'tin in war, 
 The senate, pulpit, or the bar, 
 Acknowledg'S no powt-r apar 
 With home to footer g<>nius. 
 
 The Mind th<>re, in it« plastic state, 
 
 BflceivttH that bia", form, and gait, 
 
 That Btrengtbening at a lat«r date. 
 
 Through all the life continuns. 
 
7» 
 
 
 
 
 Yea, th«n the infant mind is •uch, 
 That *neath the parents ' loving touch, 
 It may be littls or b« much, 
 As loTe and oare shall wake it. 
 
 H^re first is seen the bent of each, , 
 
 The boy pastor tries to preach, 
 And the youog ntktenman shoatD Lis speech, 
 And mounts a stool to make it. 
 
 Yon mark the fu.are engineer, 
 The soldier, or tlie artist, bore, 
 The play -ground forecasts the career, 
 Of every actor on it. 
 
 And if there be that spark of fire 
 Which men ciU genius, and admira, 
 Here glows it first and blazes higher, 
 Till all the world ham known it. 
 
 And last, not least, here first appears, 
 That Grace, which trained in early years, 
 Rolls onward througli tip's vale of teara, 
 In deeds of love and blessing. 
 
 God bless that home from whitih proceeds 
 A heart that feelk EartL'H sorest needs, 
 And drops, like fi-uit, its golden deeds — 
 Lifw'd want and woe repressing. 
 
 And now, my friends, ere I conclude, 
 
 A brief advice I tender— " 
 
 You'll after tt-ar. Is acknowldJge good 
 
 The servico that I lender. 
 YeF, bow to mako home bri^jht and fair. 
 
 And till it with felicity. 
 Is sure' a nostriiin worth yoar care, 
 
 Aad worlhy of publicity; 
 
 And h J .• b) make your children good, .. i . 
 
 Ay a e. .•^'■n gr«^t ard noMe, 
 Is lomei.hiji',, fhrt i ri lure you «hould '• 
 
 Tbiukwo tbv of yoai tiotible: — 
 Now my advice is v«ry nbort, 
 
 Av.d f?.iuy jt .»_u-i.ube :>.'.— ■ 
 JBut rjy /jiMid« I fcia ;.ct iii sport, 
 
 That \mi iidvii I' is ^widered: — 
 
 'Set Up Goi.. ,ft'l%r in your home. 
 And there, .Lpc • C;/ g : ,>r come, 
 Ackiiuwii ii,>;e Otfi -i till yuar way, 
 Rtad His ow '?.'•■. iicuie- ev<iry day. 
 And with jour i^o ii»«-hoid Bow and Pray. 
 ISo ahull yuur cUildrun, wise and chaste, 
 Around yoii ri»o, and call you bla.st: 
 Their hearts theroafier, when they roam. 
 Will think with love of you and home: — 
 And at your ^{lavw-- wliiiji ;,i>a iiic dd»d — 
 The tear of filial lov«j they'll shed, 
 And tli.ink tli« Lord with bursting heart, 
 -STor Homes where Parents Did Their Part' 
 
79 
 
 MY MOTHER. 
 
 Oh ! wbo is thiji that walks around, 
 
 Her stalF net firmly on th« jfroimd 
 
 Yes, bowed and frail, but hale and sound ? 
 
 That Lady ia my Mother. 
 You scan that aged wrinkled face, 
 And mark of beauty still a traoe, 
 And much of Koodneea and of Grace, 
 
 If you Bee little other. 
 
 A form once (all inclined \o bow, 
 A Bti onjf , fine lace and noble brow, 
 O'f r which is hid a crown of enow, 
 
 For she's a Prince's dau^^hter. 
 Her eyes e'er kindly in their glance. 
 Look at you keenly, ne'er askance, 
 Her lipp, though shrunk* n, truth advance. 
 
 And neither fear nor flatter. 
 
 Aye, she is old, near ninety one, 
 One third beyond the cummon span, 
 Look back that vista if you can, — 
 
 How much for hearts to ponder I 
 Ah dear I how many Rmiles and teara, 
 'What prayers, and toils, and anxious fears, 
 Crowd into all those ninety years, , 
 
 We well may ask, and wonder. 
 
 How many storms have swept her sky, 
 What scenes and chnn(>es flitted by, 
 How many born <o live, and die. 
 
 And pass away before her ? 
 Aye, spaak to her of long n£jo — 
 How lights her eye, her features glow, 
 And emiles and tears alternate show. 
 As memories sweep o'er lier. 
 
 Aye, speak too of that better land, 
 That now she holds so near Rt band, — 
 How bright her hopes, how firm her stanS ! 
 
 In Ghiist her Trust and Glory. 
 Beloved Ore, dear to many a heart, 
 Well hapt thou d^ne a Mcther's part, 
 And taught us all with faithful art 
 
 The Old but Saving Story. 
 
 Thou wife and widow, didft thy best, 
 In eld age therefoie, gently re»t; 
 Six chiWren live and call thee bleat. 
 
 And two are gone to heaven. 
 O Mother dear, we love thee nigh; 
 And when we meet beyond the sky, 
 With all thy dear one-* there on high, 
 "Well raayst thou f-ay, Ijord, here am I 
 
 With all Thou hast me given. 
 
m 
 
 A TMANS-ATLAXTIO GRAVE: 
 
 
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 'NeHtb jiD old Steeple Tower in my natlTe land, 
 All in shade of a shelt'ring tree, 
 . In a single green gravo, nleep a bleised band — 
 One in love — tbough in nnmber three. 
 
 Ab>, yeiir jtist ago, by tl>at grav<» I stood, 
 
 Ifl it strange that ray tears fell fast, 
 As I tbouglit of the sleeper^, so true and good, 
 
 And dear to my soul in the past. 
 
 For the one was the Father whose prayers, as light 
 
 Even throb in my bosom still, 
 Ajid the precepts of wiiom tiuglxt me truth and right, 
 
 And to love God my Maker's Will. 
 
 Also one was a Sister, the gentle bride, 
 
 That came hom«>, not to wed, but die: 
 And the nuptial knot that bad never been tied, 
 
 Gave place to a better on h'gh. 
 
 And the last was a Brother, companion sweet — 
 
 Oh ! of many a joyous day; 
 And whoFC wiBe. eentle words often held my feet. 
 
 Which my heart would have drawn astray. 
 
 Is it wonderful tlien, that I love that grave ? 
 
 'Tis to me full of sacred dust: 
 And baptized in the Blood that was shed to save, 
 
 It is safe in God's holy trust. 
 
 O ye hallowed dead ! all your ills are through— 
 
 At Tour grave, let me cease to sigh; 
 Sor I know I shall meet with my Lord and yo«, 
 
 La the sweet, blessed 'By and By.' 
 
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