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9 So sang the parting spirit,
While round flow'd many a tear,
Then spread her wings t' inherit
Her throne in yonder sphere.

EDMESTON.

THE HAVEN.

1 When the dang'rous rocks are past,When the threat'ning tempests cease,— O! how sweet to rest at last

In a silent port of peace!

2 Though that port may be unknown,
Though no chart its name may bear,
Brightly beams its light on one,
Blest to find his refuge there.

3 Life! thou art the storm-the rock:
Death! the friendly port thou art ;—
Haven from the tempest's shock,
Welcoming the wand'rer's heart.
4 Yes, I see from yonder tomb

Promis'd peace and tranquil rest;
Death! my haven! I shall come:
Sooth me on my mother's breast!

RUSSIAN POETRY.

LOVE OF GOD.

Oh! never, never canst thou know
What then for thee the Saviour bore,

The pangs of that mysterious wo
That wrung his frame at ev'ry pore,

The weight that press'd upon his brow, The fever of his bosom's core ! Yes! man for man perchance may brave The horrors of the yawning grave; And friend for friend, or child for sire, Undaunted and unmov'd expire, From love or piety-or pride. But who can die as Jesus died?

A sweet but solitary beam, An emanation from above, Glimmers o'er life's uncertain dream,— We hail that beam and call it Love! But fainter than the pale star's ray Before the noontide blaze of day, And lighter than the viewless sand Beneath the wave that sweeps the strand, Is all of love that man can know,All that in angel-breasts can glow,Compar'd, O Lord of Hosts! with thine, Eternal-fathomless-divine!

That love, whose praise, with quenchless fire,
Inflames the blest seraphic choir;
Where perfect rapture reigns above,
And love is all-for THOυ art Love!

DALE.

UNION OF CHRISTIANS.

1 Our earthly ties are weak,

Whereon we dare not rest:

For time dissolves, and death will break The sweetest and the best.

Yet there's a tie which must remain,
Which time and death assault in vain.
2 The kindred links of life are bright,
Yet not so bright as those

In which Christ's favour'd friends unite,
And each on each repose.

Where all the hearts in union cling
With Him, the centre and the spring.
S The friends of Jesus, join'd to think,
With one desire and aim,

A chain, wherein link answers link,
A heav'nly kindred claim,
And oh! how sweet, wherein each mind
A throb to echo their's they find.

4 Though lovely many an earthly flow'r, Its beauty fades and flies;

But they unchanging form a bow'r
To bloom in Paradise.

Sprung from the true immortal vine,
In Him they live, and round him twine.
5 Their bond is not an earthly love,
By nature's fondness nurs'd:
As they love him who reigns above,
Because he lov'd them first;

So they all minor ties disown,
The sweetest-for his sake alone.

ANON.

ON HAPPINESS.

1 True happiness is not the growth of earth; The search is useless if you seek it there;

"Tis an exotic of celestial birth,
And only blossoms in celestial air.

2 Sweet plant of Paradise! its seed is sown In here and there a plant of heavenly mould;

It rises slow and buds, but ne'er was known To blossom here-the climate is too cold.

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GOD UNCHANGEABLE.

1 Not seldom, clad in radiant vest,
Deceitfully goes forth the morn;
Not seldom ev'ning, in the west,
Sinks smilingly forsworn.

2 The smoothest seas will sometimes prove
To the confiding bark untrue;
And if she trusts the stars above,
They can be treach'rous too.

3 The umbrageous tree, in pomp outspread,
Full oft, when storms the welkin rend,
Draws lightning down upon the head
It promis'd to defend.

4 But thou art true, incarnate Lord!

Who did'st vouchsafe for man to die, Thy smile is sure, thy plighted word No change can falsify.

51 bent before thy gracious throne, And ask'd for peace with suppliant knee;

And peace was giv'n-nor peace alone,
But faith, and hope, and ecstasy.

WORDSWORTH.

ANGELS SENT TO MINISTER."

1 And is there care in heav'n? and is there love

In heav'nly spirits to these creatures base, That may compassion of their evils move? There is; else much more wretched were the case

Of men than beasts. But oh, the exceeding grace

Of highest God! that loves his creatures so,
And all his works with mercy doth em-
brace,

That blessed angels he sends to and fro,
To serve to wicked man,-to serve his

wicked foe.

2 How oft do they their silver bowers leave,
To come to succour us, that succour want;
How oft do they with golden pinions cleave
The flitting skies, like flying pursuivants
Against foul fiend to aid us militant.
They for us fight, they watch and duely
ward,

And their bright squadrons round about
us plant;
And all for love, and nothing for reward:
Oh! why should heav'nly God to man have
such regard!

SPENSER.

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