From beds of sickness to the Merciful, Pleading in faith "My Father! art not Thou The Guide, and the Preserver of my youth?" And thus has fled to glory. Who may tell In that high day when God makes up his

own,

How many gems in the Messiah's crown Were gather'd by these heralds!--Stranger, thou

Weepest, and much I joy to see thee bend The knee, and mingle heart and prayer with mine,

That heavenly dew may ever gently nourish This vine of God's own planting. May the

prayers

Of thousands, wafted to the eternal throne Drop in rich blessings on the Sunday-School.

TAPPAN.

A REAL OCCURRENCE IN A CIRCLE OF FRIENDS.

Which is the happiest death to die?
"Oh!" said one, "if I might choose,
Long at the gate of bliss would I lie,
And feast my spirit ere it fly,

With bright celestial views.

Mine were a lingering death, without pain,

A death which all might love to see,

And mark how bright and sweet should be

The victory I should gain!

"Fain would I catch a hymn of love

From the angel-harps which ring above:
And sing it as my parting breath
Quivered and expired in death-
So that those on earth might hear
The harp-note of another sphere,
And mark, when nature faints and dies,
What springs of heavenly life arise,
And gather, from the death they view,
A ray of hope to light them through,
When they should be departing too."

"No," said another, "so not I:

Sudden as thought is the death I would die;
I would suddenly lay my shackles by,
Nor bear a single pang at parting,
Nor see the tear of sorrow starting,
Nor hear the quivering lips that bless me,
Nor feel the hands of love that press me,
Nor the frame, with mortal terror shak-
ing,

Nor the heart, where love's soft bands are breaking,

So would I die!

"All bliss, without a pang to cloud it!
All joy, without a pain to shroud it!
Not slain, but caught up as it were,
To meet my saviour in the air!
So would I die!

Oh! how bright

Were the realms of light
Bursting at once upon the sight.

Even so,

I long to go,

These parting hours, how sad and slow!"

His voice grew faint, and fix'd was his eye, As if gazing on visions of ecstasy;

The hue of his cheek and lips decayed, Around his mouth a sweet smile played;They look'd-he was dead!

His spirit had fled:

Painless and swift as his own desire,
The soul undressed,

From her mortal vest,

Had stepp'd in her car of heavenly fire:

And proved how bright

Were the realms of light

Bursting at once upon the sight!

EDMESTON.

A MOTHER'S GRIEF.

1 To mark the sufferings of the babe
That cannot speak its wo;

To see the infant's tears gush forth,
Yet know not why they flow;
To meet the meek uplifted eye,
That fain would ask relief,

Yet can but tell of agony,
This is a mother's grief.

2 Thro' dreary days and darker nights,
To trace the march of death;

To hear the faint and frequent sigh,
The quick and shortened breath;

To watch the last dread strife draw near,
And pray that struggle brief,

Though all is ended with its close,
This is a mother's grief,

3 To see in one short hour decayed
The hope of future years;

To feel how vain a father's prayers,
How vain a mother's tears;

To think the cold grave now must close
O'er what was once the chief

Of all the treasured joys of earth,

This is a mother's grief.

4 Yet when the first wild throb is past

Of anguish and despair,

To lift the eye of faith to heaven
And think my child is there,

This best can dry the gushing tear,
This yields the heart relief,
Until the Christian's pious hope
O'ercomes a mother's grief!

DALE.

SUNSET AND SUNRISE.

Contemplate, when the sun declines,
Thy death with deep reflection!
And when again he rising shines,
Thy day of resurrection!

COWPER.

THE BABYLONISH

CAPTIVITY.

1 Along the banks where Babel's current flows,

Our captive bands in deep despondence stray'd,

While Zion's fall in sad remembrance rose Her friends, her children, mingled with the dead.

2 The tuneless harp, that once with joy we strung,

When praise employ'd and mirth inspired the lay,

In mournful silence on the willows hung; And growing grief prolong'd the tedious day.

3 The barb'rous tyrants, to increase the wo; With taunting smiles a song of Zion claim;

Bid sacred praise in strains melodious flow While they blaspheme the great Jehovah's name.

4 But how, in heathen chains and lands unknown,

Shall Israel's sons a song of Zion raise? O hapless Salem, God's terrestrial throne, Thou land of glory, sacred mount of praise:

5 If e'er my mem'ry lose thy lovely name, If my cold heart neglect my kindred race, Let dire destruction seize this guilty frame:

S