Who stayedst the lightnings of thy holy wrath
With pitying love, to spare the bruised reed, –
Thy will to save, thy ftrength to conquer, flowed
From seas of tenderness and might in God.

Thy living word sprang from the heart of man
Eternal word of love and liberty:

Fearless thou gav'ft it to the winds again;

'T was Manhood's native tongue, and could not die. To thy dear brotherhood life's pulses leap;

And wakening ages answer, deep to deep.

Rev. S. Johnson.

AFFLICTION.

BLESSED ARE THEY THAT MOURN.

FR

ROM lips divine, like healing balm
To hearts oppreffed and torn,

The heavenly consolation fell,
"Bleffed are they that mourn.”

Unto the hopes by sorrow crushed

A noble faith succeeds;

And life, by trials furrowed, bears

The fruit of loving deeds.

How rich, how sweet, how full of strength,

Our human spirits are,

Baptized into the sanctities

Of suffering and of prayer!

Yes, heavenly wisdom, love divine,

Breathed through the lips which said,

"O bleffed are the hearts that mourn; They fhall be comforted."

THE GUIDING HAND.

"Caft thy burden upon the Lord.”. - PSALM lv. 22.

S this the way, my Father? 'Tis, my child. Thou must pass through this tangled, dreary wild, If thou wouldst reach the city, undefiled,

Thy peaceful home above.

But enemies are round! Yes, child, I know
That where thou least expecteft thou 'lt find a foe;
But victor thou fhalt prove o'er all below,

Only seek ftrength above.

My Father, it is dark! Child, take my hand,
Cling close to me; I'll lead thee through the land;
Truft my all-seeing care; so fhalt thou stand

'Midft glory bright above.

My footsteps seem to flide! Child, only raise
Thine eye to me, then in these flippery ways
I will hold up thy goings; thou shalt praise
Me for each step above.

O Father, I am weary! Child, lean thy head
Upon my breast. It was
Thy rugged path;

my love that spread
hope on, till I have said,

A FIRST SORROW.

ARISE! this day fhall shine,

Forevermore,

To thee a ftar divine,

On Time's dark shore.

Till now thy soul has been
All glad and gay:

Bid it awake, and look
At grief to-day!

No fhade has come between

Thee and the sun; Like some long childish dream Thy life has run:

But now the ftream has reached A dark, deep sea,

And Sorrow, dim and crowned,

Is waiting thee.

Each of God's soldiers bears

A sword divine:

Stretch out thy trembling hands To-day for thine!

To each anointed Priest
God's summons came:

O soul, He speaks to-day,
And calls thy name.

Then, with flow, reverent ftep,
And beating heart,
From out thy joyous days
Thou must depart,

And, leaving all behind,
Come forth alone,

To join the chosen band
Around the throne.

Raise up thine eyes, -be ftrong,

Nor caft away

The crown that God has given

Thy soul to-day!

Miss A. A. Procter.

"ONLY A YEAR."

NE year ago, a ringing voice,

ONEA

A clear blue eye,

And clustering curls of sunny hair,

Too fair to die.