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I better love young children,

Their pure and simple joys ;
The sin of erring brethren,

No bitter thought employs.
Thus earth as nought esteeming,

Yet holding much I love,
I find 'tis no vain dreaming,

Of joys that are above.
As on the lofty tower,

The watcher keeps his ward,
To mark morn's earliest hour,

So I, with more regard,
Note every warning token,

That tells me of my end,
So when the word is spoken,

Death comes a look’d-for friend!

T. M. B.

THE MARTYR'S DEATH SONG.

'Twas night, but the lurid glare that fell
On each brake and bush of that lonely dell,
Was no silver shower of pure moonbeams,
Nor the flashing play of the phantom gleams;
But a steady Aame that rose bright and high,
Round the stake where a martyr was doom’d to die.
Alone he stood ʼmid the burning pile,
With a dauntless eye, a prophetic smile,
His gaze was fixed on th' illumined sky,
Like an eagle that plumes its wings to fly ;
And e'en when he writhed in agony,
His soul poured forth its ecstacy,
His weak voice swelled on the breezeless air,
Wafting to heaven this fervent prayer ;-

“ Saviour of sinners, who didst bear

So much of pain and sorrow here ;
Thou who didst tread a thorny road
Weighed down by sin's oppressive load,

I call to Thee !
Stretch forth thy mighty arm, and succour me.

“ Saviour, thou know'st the bitterness

Of pain, and grief, and weariness,
And still more bitter, thou hast borne
Man's cruel mockery and scorn, -

Oh! hear my cry!
And help me now like Thee to bear and die.

“ And in thy hour of misery

There was no tear of sympathy,
No friend who could the danger brook,
To catch thy last, thy dying look ;

I now would pray-
Lord, in this trying hour be Thou my stay !

“ But Thou hast promised peace above,

A home where ev'ry thought is love,
Malice and scorn breathe not that air,
Nor can a friend prove faithless there,

Oh! lend me wings,
To speed me to its cool and healing springs !'

Fainter and fainter grew the Martyr's hymn,
The eye that gazed on heaven was fixed and dim,
But the low words that met the listening ear
Breathed of the joy his spirit saw so near,-
Of peace in heaven, he had not found below,
Of purity, no saint on earth may know,
Of pardon, through his Saviour's agonies,
And of forgiveness for his enemies.
Silence had fallen on each murderer's heart :
They pausedas if to hear the soul depart.
And as the dying flame shot high and bright,
Then sunk again in darkness more than night.
Each looked upon the other's ghastly face,
And his own guilty tortures there might trace ;
And, when the Martyr stood before the God,
Sinless and happy, purchased by His blood,
His voice already swelling to the praise
Of love that had encompassed all his days,
Each vainly laid him on his couch to rest,
With hell already kindled in his breast.”.

ANNETTE. SABBATH LAYS.

No. I. SABBATH MORNING.

Nature awakes and sings her gladdest strain,
The young bird ceases not its carolings,
While the fresh breeze to it in concert sings;
No wounded dove doth to its mate complain,
And the glad wood with simple music rings.
See myriads flocking to yon moss-crowned fane,
Beneath whose roof abideth peace and rest;
No step is seen decrepid or deprest,
For joy o'er all its wondrous mantle flings,
And busy cares have ceased to molest,
Nor self-born woes oppress the anxious breast !
But my rapt soul unto the future clings;
For earth shall fade; but oh, there shall arise
A lasting sabbath morn 'neath fairer skies..

No. II. SABBATH EVEXING. How still, how calm, is earth, and sky, and air ! No sound disturbs the quiet happiness; Nature is wrapt in sleep,-fit hour to share In the sweet solacement of silent prayer. The moon lights up yon pathless wilderness, The night-bird scarcely trills it welcome song, Such as the rock doth in its joy prolong; Whilst the full heart dissolves in thankfulness, And is constrained surrounding things to bless. Fit end is this of a soul-stilling day, When mercy's voice awoke so sweet and clear ; When, from the throne of God, broke forth a ray Of light, which chased away the sinner's tear, And quelled foreboding dark-gave hope in place of fear !

CHARLES AVERY.

NAVIS.

Puppis cauda, carinaque venter, proraque rostrum;
Velaque sunt alæ : totaque navis, avis.

(Translations in verse are requested.)

ADVENI.

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