And to this day the fisherman shows where the scoffers sank :

And still he calls that hillock green, "the Virgin Mary's bank."

MARY MAGDALEN.

To the hall of the feast came the sinful and fair; She heard in the City that Jesus was there;

She mark'd not the splendour that blazed on their board:

But silently knelt at the feet of the Lord.

The hair from her forehead, so sad and so meek, Hung dark o'er the blushes that burn'd on her cheek; And so still and so lowly she bent in her shame, It seem❜d as her spirit had flown from its frame.

The frown and the murmur went round through them all,

That one so unhallow'd should tread in that hall, And some said the poor would be objects more meet For the wealth of the perfumes she shower'd on His feet.

She mark'd but her Saviour, she spoke but in sighs, She dared not look up to the heaven of His eyes, And the hot tears gush'd forth at each heave of her breast,

As her lips to his sandal were throbbingly press'd.

On the cloud after tempests, as shineth the bow; In the glance of the sunbeam, as melteth the snow, He look'd on that lost one; her sins were forgiven; And Mary went forth in the beauty of Heaven.

Furlong.

OH! IF THE ATHEIST'S WORDS WERE TRUE.

OH! if the atheist's words were true-
If those we seek to save,

Sink, and in sinking from our view,
Are lost beyond the grave!

If life thus closed, how dark and drear
Would this bewilder'd earth appear-
Scarce worth the dust it gave:
A tract of black, sepulchral gloom,
One yawning, ever-opening tomb.

Blest be that strain of high belief,
More heaven-like, more sublime,
Which says, that souls that part in grief,
Part only for a time!

That, far beyond this speck of pain,

Far o'er the gloomy grave's domain,

There spreads a brighter clime;

Where, care, and toil, and trouble, o'er,
Friends meet, and meeting, part no more.

Banim.

SOGGARTH AROON.

Am I the slave they say,
Soggarth aroon ?*

Since you did show the way,
Soggarth aroon,

Their slave no more to be,

While they would work with me Old Ireland's slavery,

Soggarth aroon ?

Why not her poorest man,
Soggarth aroon,

Try and do all he can,

Soggarth aroon,

Her commands to fulfil,
Of his own heart and will,
Side by side with you still,
Soggarth aroon?

Loyal and brave to you,
Soggarth aroon,

Yet be no slave to you,
Soggarth aroon,—

* "Priest dear."-Irish.

Nor, out of fear to you,

Stand up so near to you-
Oh! out of fear to you!
Soggarth aroon !

Who, in the winter's night,
Soggarth aroon,

When the cold blast did bite,
Soggarth aroon,

Came to my cabin-door,

And, on my earthen floor,
Knelt by me, sick and poor,
Soggarth aroon?

Who, on the marriage-day,
Soggarth aroon,

Made the poor cabin gay,

Soggarth aroon

And did both laugh and sing,
Making our hearts to ring,
At the poor christening,
Soggarth aroon?

Who, as friend only met,
Soggarth aroon,

Never did flout me yet,

Soggarth aroon?

And when my hearth was dim, Gave, while his eye did brim,

What I should give to him,

Soggarth aroon?

Och! you, and only you,
Soggarth aroon !

And for this I was true to you,
Soggarth aroon ;

In love they'll never shake,
When for old Ireland's sake,
We a true part did take,
Soggarth aroon !

Griffin.

ARGUMENTS FOR THE LOVE OF GOD DERIVED
FROM CREATION.

AND ask ye why He claims our love?
Oh! answer, all ye winds of even,
Oh! answer, all ye stars above,

That watch in yonder dark'ning heaven;
Thou earth, in vernal radiance gay,

As when His angels first array'd thee,

And thou, O deep-tongued ocean! say

Why man should love the mind that made thee.

There's not a flower that decks the vale, There's not a beam that lights the mountain, There's not a shrub that scents the gale, There's not a wind that stirs the fountain,