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Soon beyond frail life's control,
Death shall bid all troubles cease;
Faith thy anchor, O! my soul,
And Religion whispering peace!

Calm, resign thy latest breath,
On a Saviour's grace rely;
Though there be a pang in death,
Thou shalt prove it gain to die.

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PETER WEEPING.

BY S. M. WARING.

O strong in purpose-frail in power,
Where now the pledge so lately given ?
Coward to creatures of an hour;
Bold to the challenged bolts of heaven.

"Shall that fierce eye e'er pour the stream
Of heart-wrung tears before its God?
Thus did the rock in Horeb seem,
One moment ere it felt the rod.

"But Jesus turns-mysterious drops
Before that kindly glance flow fast;
So melt the snows from mountain tops,
When the dark wintry hour is past.

"What might it be that glance could paint ?
Did one deep touching impress blend,
The more than sage-the more than saint-
The more than sympathising friend?

"Was it that lightning thought retraced
Some hallowed hour beneath the moon?
Or walk, or converse high, that graced
The temple's column'd shade at noon?

Say did that face to memory's eye,
With gleams of Tabor's glory shine?
Or did the dews of agony

Still rest upon that brow divine?

"I know not:-
:-but I know a will,
That, Lord! might frail as Peter's be!
A heart that had denied thee still,
E'en now-without a look from Thee."

NOEMIS.

REDEMPTION.

HARK, the Redeemer speaks. What mild command
Flows from his lips: authority divine

Is seated on his brow, with looks of love
The mighty Saviour saith,-"Deliver him,
I, even I, have found a ransom, I

Have borne the sinner's punishment, obeyed
His Maker's law, recovering by mine arm,
His lost possession for him. Sinner, come,
Laden with guilt, opprest with sorrow, come,
And I will give thee rest.” O words divine,
Words of eternal life! Stern justice hears,
And bows obedient: while the flaming sword,
Quenched by the blood of Christ, emits no more
Its fearful fire; but peacefully returned
Into its scabbard, leaves the trembling soul
Abundant entrance to the path of life.

There, in green pastures, there, by living streams,
The Saviour leads him, gently guides his steps,
Preserving him from danger. That free grace
Which gain'd admittance for him, now upholds,
Strengthens, and cheers him. That Almighty arm
Which wrought salvation, is his sweet support,
E'en till he enters paradise; a land

How much transcending Eden! where the Lord
In power, in love, in glory, reigns supreme.

S.S.S.

TO ANNE.

DEAR ANNE, to my song attend,
The serious musings of a friend.
I would not strive by dint of art
To gain the suffrage of thine heart,
But love sincere shall weave the line,
And truth shall trace the fair design.

Now are the happy days for thee,
And happy may'st thou ever be;
But years will come when thou must feel
The change of human wo and weal,
When that unclouded brow must bear

The furrow'd marks of thought and care.

To own the christian's noble name,
O, never blush with coward shame;
Guilt only so should flush the cheek,
The token of the bad or weak.
Bright angels, in the world of bliss,
Would joy to own a name like this!
Seek not in earthly gifts to shine,
A higher aim and wish be thine;
In failing age, or blooming youth,
The fairest ornament is truth!

Ask thou this boon from bounteous Heaven,
Nor doubt that thou shalt have it given.

The voice of praise 'tis sweet to hear,
O, how it charms the willing ear;
O, how it makes the heart rejoice;
But, ah! beware the flatterer's voice:
Turn from the syren sound-be wise-
In flight thy surest safety lies.

And now, dear Anne, on thy head
May Heaven its choicest blessings shed;
May God's right hand thy feet direct,
And all thy various ways protect,
Shield thee from folly, keep thee far
From wild temptation's dangerous war.

If such a happy lot be thine,
'Thy pathway will with glory shine,
And thy glad spirit will not sigh

For earthly joys that fade and die,
But joyfully to perfect day

You'll walk life's devious rugged way.

The time may come to see us part
To meet no more!-but yet in heart
I trust we ne'er shall know a change,
Nor think each other cold and strange,
Should death divide-our hope shall be
To meet where parting cannot be !

ERRATA.

T. M. B.

Page 283-line 13, for "captious" read "rapt'rous."

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