For their sake, too, the faithful, wise, and bold, Whose generous love has been my pride and

stay,

Those who have found in me some trace of gold, For their sake purify my lead and clay.

And let not all the pains and toil be wasted, Spent on my youth by saints now gone to rest; Nor that deep sorrow my Redeemer tasted,

When on his soul the guilt of man was press'd. Tender and sensitive, he braved the storm,

That we might fly a well-deserved fate, Pour'd out his soul in supplication warm, Look'd with his eyes of love on eyes of hate. Let all this goodness by my mind be seen,

Let all this mercy on my heart be seal'd! Lord, if thou wilt, thy power can make me clean: O, speak the word-thy servant shall be heal'd. JAMES F. CLARK.

Jehovah, the Provider.

AUTHOR of being! life-sustaining King! Lo! Want's dependant eye from Thee implores

The seasons, which provide nutritious stores; Give to her prayers the renovating Spring, And Summer-heats all perfecting that bring The fruits which Autumn from a thousand stores Selecteth provident! when earth adores Her God, and all her vales exulting sing.

Without thy blessing, the submissive steer
Bends to the ploughman's galling yoke in vain ;
Without thy blessing on the varied year,
Can the swarth reaper grasp the golden grain?
Without thy blessing, all is black and drear;
With it, the joys of Eden bloom again.

WILLIAM WORDSWORTH.

Light and Darkness.

TWO Spirits o'er an open grave were bending, Their gaze far down its gloomy chamber sending.

One, with a brow of stern and cold despair,
And sable weeds and cypress in his hair,
Turned not his eyes, so fixed and dark with wo,
From the cold pit, which fearful yawned below.
The other stood with garments pure and white
As deck the dwellers of the land of light :
Her placid brow was as an angel's fair,
While calm and joyous was her gentle air;
And though within the grave she dropped a tear,
Her upturned eye was still serene and clear.

"Life!" said the Spirit with the brow of gloom, His arm outstretching o'er the gaping tomb

"Nay," said the shining one, with upturned eye,
And smile so clear it mirrored back the sky-
"'T is a sunny streamlet gliding
Gently on to seek its goal;

There in God's own bosom hiding-
Bright and pure, a white-robed soul."

But the dark Spirit's gloomy voice again
Doled out in slow and melancholy strain:
""T is a mournful weed, that groweth
Lone and friendless in the world,
Which a ghastly reaper moweth,
And 't is to oblivion hurled!"

"Nay," the bright, gentle one replied once more,
And softer still the holy smile she wore—
""T is a starry flower upraising
Through all ills a trusting eye,
Evermore its Maker praising-

Fading here to bloom on high!"

Slowly the dark one sunk his gloomy brow,
As once again he murmured sad and low:

"'T is a storm, for ever sweeping
O'er a bleak and barren heath;
Tossing, surging, never sleeping,
Till it lull in endless death!"

Nay!" and the hoping Spirit's hands were prest In meek and holy rapture to her breast

""T is a friendly rain, that showers

On a fair and pleasant land,

Where the darkest cloud that lowers

By the rainbow still is spanned!"

Stern was the

gaze of sorrow and despair That now was fixed upon the Spirit fair, As, a last time, the hopeless wailer's burst Of anguish came more drear than e'en at first: ""T is a haunting vision, blended Evermore with tears and pain:

'T is a dream, that best were ended;
Life is false, and life is vain!”

Ceased the dark Spirit-and a sable cloud
O'er his set features folded like a shroud;
Then slowly sank, as sinks the dying wave,
In the dark chambers of the yawning grave.
Silently closed the damp turf o'er his head,
And the stern Spirit, like the mortal dead,
Came not again from out his gloomy bed!
"Life!" said the shining one, as, stretching forth
Her long, fair arms, she blessed the teeming earth,
"Life is true, and life is real!

Life has worthy deeds for all;
'T is no vain and false ideal,

Ending with the shroud and pall.
Up and do, then, dreaming mortal!
With a strong heart toil away;
Earth has cares, but heaven a portal
Opening up to endless day!"

She paused, and o'er her pure and spotless breast
Drew the soft drapery of her snowy vest;
Her long, fair arms extended yet once more
To bless the earth she oft had blessed before;
Then turned away to pour her heavenly light
In genial floods where all were else but night.

Still dwells she here, that child of heavenly birth---
Soothing the sorrows of the sons of earth;
Drying the tears that dim the mourner's eye;
Gently subduing Grief's desponding sigh;
Winging with rapture e'en the parting ray,
And wreathing smiles around the lips of clay.
Blest be her path along life's rugged way!
Blest be her smiles which light the darkest day!
And blest the tears that, trusting still, she weeps,
Where the dark Spirit yet in silence sleeps.
CAROLINE M. SAWYER.

"Let there be Peace!” he said, and all was Calm.

"LET there be peace!" he said, and all was

calm,

Amongst the warring world,-calm as the sea When, "Oh, be still, ye boisterous winds!" he cried,

And not a breath was blown, nor murmur heard. His was a life of miracles and might,

And charity and love, ere yet he taste

The bitter draught of death, ere yet he rise
Victorious o'er the universal foe,

And death and sin, and hell in triumph lead.
His, by the right of conquest, is mankind,
And in sweet servitude, and golden bonds
We're tied to him for ever.-Oh, how easy