might hold communion with, to pass the "valley of the shadow of death." Yet, this reflection brings to our minds, her own gentle words, which at all times make the bitter sweet, and add a salutary consolation to the ruffled breast. How solemn, and expressive these lines;

"Her spirit's hope her bosom's love

Oh! could they mount and fly!

She never sees a wandering dove,
But for its wing to sigh;

She never hears a soft wind bear

Low music on its way,

But deems it sent from heavenly air,

For her who cannot stay!

Let her depart!"

And when the past hovers before our sight, we can say, who hath touched the lyre and brought forth sympathies, for seasons of sun-smiles, and tear-drops -the buoyant spirit, and the opprest-in strains so sublime, as when we glide across the lake of poetic thought with this fair bard? Or farther, when we stand beside the bed-side of mourning, or pass on to the verge of the tomb, and remember the pious breathing that ever and anon, lit up the eye of her readers, with the hope of a blissful eternity beyond

the grave; do we not discover, that she laboured ardently in the cause of religion, by pointing her fellow-creatures, in the most persuasive language we could imagine, to Calvary's eminence? Yes! and we exclaim in the words she so warmly addressed, to the invaluable and cherishing 'Sunbeam,'

"Thou turnest not from the humblest grave,

Where a flower to the sighing winds may wave;
Thou scatterest its gloom, like the dreams of rest,
And thou sleepest in love, on its grassy breast!"

SACRED POETRY.

"OH! for the harp that David swept,

At whose divine entrancing sound The evil spirit distance kept,

While holier visions hover'd round: Oh! for such harp in these our days, To speak a God's, a Saviour's praise.

"Christian, wouldst thou such harp possess,
May grace anoint thine eye to see,
And on thy mind this truth impress-
The heart that instrument must be:
For never harp or lyre reveal'd,
Such music, as the heart can yield!"

BARTON.

THE RETROSPECT.

"Remember all the way which the Lord thy God led thee." DEUT. VIII. 2.

ROLL mighty billows! onward roll,
And hurl contention far away:

Calm light from heaven illumes my soul,
And peace sends down her purest ray.

I see behind me, clouded skies,

And darkness on my way before;
But faith's soft wing doth now arise,
To bid me doubt my God no more.

Like Moses, on the glorious mount
Of promises, I take my rest;
And yonder view, each living fount
Of joys, that rise to cheer the blest.

I would rejoice at this glad hour,
As sung that patriarch of old;
Thus far Jehovah's saving power,
Hath led me by his strength untold.

A wilderness-a howling waste-
A desert moor, on either side:
But, when I sunk, his arm made haste
To fix my feet, and be my guide.