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Looking for death as his release, "No stately structure of decay, "No cold fair form of lifeless clay, "A living Temple, holy shrine, "The image of the Lord divine, "This is the man, yes, this is he "Who keeps alive Christ's memory."

GOOD FRUITS.

"Their works do follow them."

Naked as when we left our mother's womb
We are carried to our tomb,

Yet not for that is life of little gain ;

Our holy deeds remain :

For as in Autumn-time,

When fruits are in their prime,

An aged tree, set in an orchard fair,

Can scarce unpropped its load of fruitage bear, Then comes a storm, and, smitten by the blast, It holds no longer but succumbs at last,

Yet even in its fall it has not lost

The mighty load of fruit which is its boast;
So we must bow the head,
And join the countless dead,
Yet good men are not left,
Even when dead, bereft ;

They bear with them below a glorious load
Of good fruit as an off'ring to their God.

M

LIFE FROM THE DEAD.

"The shadow of heavenly things."

These outward things-how much they show Of things above to men below!

They live, they die, they rise again—

Lesson of hope to mortal men:

Planted in this God's earthly bower,
We blossom just one little hour,
Our blossom fades, we droop, we die,
And in the earth awhile we lie,

Till, in the world's great Springtide, we
Shall by God's Spirit quickened be,
And richer fruits and flowers display
In brighter climes an endless day.

SEED-TIME AND HARVEST.

“Look down from thy holy habitation, and bless thy people Israel."

Unfruitful though I be,
And barren, Lord, to thee,
Yet do thou come to me,
And sow my heart again
With thy most holy grain,
And make it take deep root,
And live and upward shoot,
That, when thy angels come
To take the Harvest home,
A large and goodly yield

Be found in me, thy field,

And precious golden store

From me be gathered in to Heaven's great garner floor,

For which to thee will be the praise and glory, Lord, for evermore.

THE TARES.

"Whence hath it tares ?"

Thou wicked weed,

Who dropped thy seed

Into the earth

To cause a dearth,

Aping so vain

The goodly grain ? Some damned wight, The child of Night, Or goblin foul, Or loathsome fowl, Or hell-born breath Laden with death: Thou shalt not stay To mock the day, Thou shalt not curse The ground thy nurse, Thou shalt not spoil The reaper's toil;