But they who trust the Lord, and pray,
Have no just cause to fear;
Their pilot winds and seas obey,
And he is always near.

Believers may be toss'd about
On life's uncertain main,
But shall at length, beyond a doubt;
Their promis'd haven gain.

When landed on yon peaceful shore,
Past dangers they review;
The love and wisdom they'll adore
That brought them safely through.

There, my dear friends, may you and I,
And yours' and mine, appear;
The joys and songs above to join
Through an eternal year.

SAY not his sun went down at noon;
Early he died, but not too soon:
Not till his heart by grace was chang'd,
And from the world and sin estrang'd:
Not till the Lord, whose love he knew,
Taught him to smile with death in view.
Life's noblest ends thus gain'd betimes,
He's gone to live in happier climes.

HARVEST HOME.

GOD gives the seed we sow,
His blessing makes it grow;
His sunshine and his rain
Produce the ripen'd grain.
To him then let us raise
A song of grateful praise.

Thus may
his grace impart
Salvation to each heart;
Then tho' you sow in tears,
Beset with foes and fears,
Expect when he shall come
A joyful harvest home.

F S

FRUIT

GATHERED FROM A CHESNUT-TREE,

AT PRIESTLANDS.

NO Hero's praise shall stain my pen,
For burning towns, or slaught'ring men ;
A gentle theme best pleases me;
I sing Miss Gordon's favorite tree.

How tall it rears its stately head!
How wide its num'rous branches spread!
Yet all that now appears in view
At first from a small chesnut grew.

Jonah admir'd his transient gourd,
But soon its sudden loss deplor'd;
One night produc'd it fully grown,
It wither'd ere the sun went down.

From small beginnings, sure, but slow,
The trees of righteousness thus grow;
While false professors quickly shoot,
And quickly die for want of root.

This tree, without a prop, secur'd,
Has many a winter's storm endur'd ;
Because the roots, though out of sight,
Are well proportion❜d to its height.

Believers thus still thrive and grow, 'Midst all the storms that round them blow; The world expects to see them fall,

"

But Christ, their root, supports them all.

Pleasing, tho' solemn, is the gloom

With which the shade o'erspreads her room;
In summer's overwhelming heat
Here she enjoys a cool retreat.

So may her spirit shelter'd be,
By dwelling, Saviour, near to thee;
And find affliction's heat allay'd
Beneath thy love's refreshing shade.