206.

On Him who bears the feeble up,
Oh! let thy spirit stay;

In Him who gave this bitter cup,
Confide from day to day;

And onward press to realms above,
Where all shall know, that "God is love."

207.

Beloved! it is well,

God's ways are always right;
And love is o'er them all,

Though far above our sight.

208.

When hoary age is carried to the grave, "Tis known the healing art was vain to save; But when, in life's fair spring, a lovely flower Withers, and dies, in one short, transient hour; The mourning heart, o'erwhelmed beneath the blow,

Sinks down at first in desolation's woe.

Yet for the youthful Christian none should weep, For they are blessed who in Jesus sleep.

209.

Devote to God your early days,

Seek now the Saviour's love;
And He will guide you by his grace,
To rest and peace above.

210.

Dear Parents! cease that plaintive moan,
Look up, and wipe those tears away;
What though your sweetest joys are flown?
What though your choicest gourds decay?
Let faith and hope your spirits cheer,
Your God-your Saviour 's ever near.

211.

How lovely was her youthful brow,
When decked with beauty, and with bloom;
Alas! how changed and faded now,
The mouldering tenant of the tomb !
Here learn to fix your hopes on high,

Where nought can ever fade or die.

212.

Thou weepest

she would weep for thee,

If tears in heaven could flow,

To think of sin and misery,

Man's heritage below.

No; not for all earth's realms contain,

Would saints return to earth again.

213.

Our son was early called to die,
Without a friend or parent nigh;
Yet God was present to sustain,
The love of Jesus soothed his pain;
In faith and hope his spirit fled,
And victory crown'd his dying bed.*

*These lines may be inscribed to the memory of any pious youth who died abroad.

214.

Lines to the memory of a youth who fell from a steampacket, and was drowned in the River Illinois.

He sank to rise no more in that swift stream;
Short was his life, and all his hopes a dream.
He sank-no human power his life could save,
No hand could snatch him from his watery grave;
A grave, indeed, he little thought to find,
When England and his friends he left behind.
Such was his end-and yet the young still dream,
And speak of pleasure as their only theme.
And what is pleasure? but a summer's gleam—
And what the longest life ?—a rapid stream.

The Churchyard.

BENEATH our feet, and o'er our head,
Is equal warning given:
Beneath us lie the countless dead,
Above us is the heaven.

Our eyes have seen the rosy light
Of youth's soft cheek decay;
And death descend in sudden night
On manhood's middle day.

Our eyes have seen the steps of age
Halt feebly towards the tomb ;
And yet shall earth our hearts engage,
And dreams of days to come?

Turn, mortal, turn! thy danger know:
Where'er thy foot can tread,
The earth rings hollow from below,
And warns thee of her dead.

Turn, Christian, turn! thy soul apply
To truths divinely given;

The bodies that beneath thee lie
Shall live for hell or heaven.