He doubts nor fears it will mislead,
Or cause his steps to roam;
But e'en as prairie's faithful weed
Direct the pilgrim home.

Throughout the world's wild thorny maze,
As compass sure 't is giv'n,

To guide him in life's narrow ways,
And steer his steps to heav'n.

THE BEREAVED,

Visiting a Country Church-yard on a January Eve.

"He went" to the grave "and wept, and as he went thus he said, O my son Absalom, my son, my son Absalom! would God I had died for thee, oh, Absalom, my son, my son !"-SAM. xviii. 33.

THE night was dismal, dark, and drear,
The wind in loud tones blew :
No star the trav'ller's way to cheer,
No moon to guide him through.

The owl within its ivy crept

And wonted screech forsook :

The cottager long since had slept:
Forlorn was nature's look.

One step alone the silence broke-
Its echo far was heard:
That falt'ring, hurried tread bespoke
A mind by grief disturb❜d.

Then o'er the tomb a father bow'd,
And as he bow'd he wept:

66

My son, my son !" he mourn'd aloud,
"Oh, that for thee I slept!"

"Would God I'd died for thee, my son,
My lov'd, mine only child!
Would God I had! my son, my son!"
He mourn'd in anguish wild.

A wat'ry grave that lov'd one met :*
Each oar was fetter'd down-
No key was there-again, the shriek!
The life-despairing tone!

"He sinks! he sinks!" the fisher cries,
"I hear the gurgling moan!

Too late, too late! no more he 'll rise-
Death's voice was in that tone."

* Drowned while crossing a Ford on horseback. The plunge and call for help were heard, not only by his companion to whom he had just given the signal to follow, but by the fishermen, who, having been recently much plundered of their oars, had secured them for the night.

As yields the tree to tempest's blast,
So bow'd the Father down :

Life's hope was reft, and o'er him cast
Despair's most withering frown.

A breaking heart grief's vigil kept-
His hours of joy were run :

Beneath that tomb in silence slept
A wife and only son.

Jan, 183-.

With daily proof they 're "nothing worth,"

And life a fleeting show,
We vainly set our hopes on earth,
And cling to things below.

A few short months have pass'd away,
And grief its work hath done-
Within that vault of death there lay,
The Father, Mother, Son!

Arouse us, Lord, and by thy pow'r

Fix Thou our hopes on Thee

The mourner's strong hold and his tow'r,

The Christian's trust and plea.

Sept.

A PLACE I ASK.

"I had rather be a door-keeper in the house of my God, than, to dwell in the tents of wickedness."-Ps. lxxxiv. 10.

THAN dwell in tents of wickedness,
Thy door-way, Lord, I'd keep:
Oh! rather with Thy people choose
Affliction's tear to weep.

For what the joys of earth to me,
Ungodly wealth and pride,
Debarr'd Thy glorious face to see,
And in Thy love confide.

Oh! grant me with Thy people here
To mingle and to meet,
And ever where Thine honour dwells
To find some humble seat.

A place too, Lord, a place I ask
In Thy pure home above,

Unworthy as I feel to be

Of Thy redeeming love.

The humblest, lowest place, oh Lord!
With Thy bright smile divine,

Were high and lofty-undeserv'd

Where saints and martyrs shine.

One smile of Thine, one gladd'ning look

Of sweet, approving love,

Can make my heart the home of bliss
In earth or heav'n above.

Tho' lowly then the portion be,
My soul would gladly hence,
A keeper of Thy door-way be,
Than join unhallow'd tents.

ON FIRST HEARING THE REV. T. P.....N,
Curate of East B......t.

"How beautiful are the feet of them that preach the Gospel of Peace, and bring glad tidings of good things."-ROM. x. 15.

"I will give you pastors, saith the Lord, according to mine heart, which shall feed you with knowledge and understanding.”—JER. iii. 15.

A VOICE I heard sound, and so sweetly tell
Of the path that leads above;

That I said, "If truth in man's heart doth dwell,
Then it spake in that voice of love."

It told in sweet strains of a Saviour dead,
And it told of a Saviour ris'n:

It said too, alone through Jesus our head
Were the sins of our hearts forgiv❜n.

G