And Bishop Mant's plain practical counsel is wise and good for the life that lies before us: Ere the morning's busy ray Call you to your work away; To lift Your wearied eyes in sweet repose, prayer He to whom the prayer is due, From heaven His throne shall smile on you; Angels sent by Him shall tend Your daily labour to befriend; To guard you in the hour of sleep. When through the peaceful parish swells Duly tread the sacred road Which leads you to the house of God; And oh, where'er your days be passed, And God shall be your strength alway. He only to the heart can give Peace and true pleasure while you live; He only,.when you yield your breath, He can, He will, from out the dust We are now to bear the burden and heat of the day-for "every day is a little life.” And rapidly the birthdays become saddened in early manhood, when deep passions are at work, and the heart and soul are agitated with tumultuous hopes and fears. We look back with regret, and are sad in the prospect of a maturity of toil and care: O for the morning gleam of youth, the half-unfolded flower, That sparkles in the diamond dew of that serener hour, What time the broad and level sun shone gaily o'er the sea, And in the woods the birds awoke to songs or ecstasy. The sun, that gilds the middle arch of man's maturer day, Smites heavy on the pilgrim's head who plods his dusty way; The birds are fled to deeper shades, the dewy flowers are dried; And hope, that with the day was born, before the day has died: For who can promise to his soul a tranquil eventide? Yes-though the dew will gleam anew, though from its western sky The sun will give as mild a ray as morning could supply; Though from the tufted thorn again will sing the nightingale, Yet little will the ear of age enjoy her tender tale; And night will find us toiling on, with joyless travail worn; For day must pass and night must come before another morn. HEBER. Slight and simple though they be, these lines may awaken some heart echoes : OH! WOULD I WERE AGAIN 'A CHILD! Where is now the holly tree? Where the orchard's minstrelsy? Where are the daisies to be found? Friends who charm'd my infancy, E'en my very natal air Breathes the languid wind of care. ROSE HENDRIKE. Young gives a melancholy picture of the various characters of youth, and their different fates:— Self-flatter'd, unexperienced, high in hope, When young, with sanguine cheer and streamers gay, We cut our cable, launch into the world, And fondly dream each wind and star our friend; All in some darling enterprise embark'd: But where is he can fathom its event? Amid a multitude of artless hands, Ruin's sure perquisite, her lawful prize! Some steer aright, but the black blast blows hard, And puffs them wide of hope: with hearts of proof Full against wind and tide some win their way. And when strong effort has deserved the port, And tugg'd it into view, 'tis won!—'tis lost! Though strong their oar, still stronger is their fate. They strike! and while they triumph they expire: In stress of weather most, some sink outright; O'er them and o'er their names the billows close, To-morrow knows not they were ever born: Others a short memorial leave behind, Like a flag floating when the bark's engulf'd; It floats a moment, and is seen no more. One Cæsar lives; a thousand are forgot. How few beneath auspicious planets bornDarlings of Providence! fond Fate's elect! With swelling sails make good the promised port With all their wishes freighted! H The change that comes over the spirit of our That Time around him binds so fast, How hard that chain will press at last! One marked change is described by Campbell The more we live, more brief appear The gladsome current of our youth, But as the careworn cheek grows wan, Ye stars, that measure life to man, When joys have lost their bloom and breath, And life itself is vapid, Why, as we reach the Falls of Death, Feel we its tide more rapid? It may be who would change strange-yet When one by one our friends have gone, |