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POETRY.

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LIGHTS AND SHADOWS OF 1850.

(Written on its last day.)

ONE more sun down!—and thou wilt then have pass'd,
Thou friendly Year! Large bliss hast thou convey'd;
A few dark hours of sorrow and of pain,
Thousands, of health and cheerfulness and joy!
Much have I loved thee, as the gift of Him
"Ancient of days," whose years know no decline!
To Him thou wast a mote, a grain, a sand!
Howe'er, to us, one of a mountain range:
Time's milestones! thou the last; not yet
By moss of age obscured and mantled o'er!
And brighter, as mid pillar of a century!

How often has this hand cipher'd thy name
On friendship's wing, and with affection's words
On records of my pleasures, or my griefs-
The last how few, the first a multitude!

Yet, tho' so long, so bright, thou sett'st in clouds!
For thrice within these last sev'n days, has Death
Approached my friends, and bid them journey with thee;
They heard-a moment weighed the solemn call,
Then girt their loins, and took their lamps to go.

One, full of years-full too his earthly cup,
His sons to manhood and to honor come;
Oh, joy worth worlds to hear a father's voice-
"Come near and kiss me, now, my son,"
For thou hast been a duteous son to me."
Then with a later, not a weaker breath-
"My hope! my peace, reliance! all in Christ!"
Another lies, smitten with palsied brain,
Uttering no word, no sign of peace or hope!
Dark shadow this! yet only such as casts
The tropic sun! 'tis but beneath the foot.
All light above, behind, before, around!
The life was Christ's,—death will be silent gain.

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The third, God's minister,* how doubly bless'd
A Christian warrior from his very youth!
Now, conqu❜ror on the battle field of death,
Tho' overcome by premature decay.

Lo! while as yet in Winton's learned plain,
His Saviour met him in his boyhood's prime,
Foremost in classic lore, his laurel crown
Won aft, on banks of Isis and of Thame.

But it was there his youthful hand first touched
The book of life: a heedless class-mate left
Neglected, torn, dust-cover'd, Heaven's bright pearl:
He found it, learnt its worth, was rich for ever!
What then his manhood's life? Unwearied toil
"In making many rich" with that same pearl;
For well nigh full a generation's age,

The eye, the tongue, the right hand, and the arm
Of that most wondrously compounded body,
Which, like an angel in his might, hath flown
Over all lands, and with exhaustless store
Flung every where the seeds of truth and life.
And now from these abounding toils he rests,
While what he bore to thousands, carried him
In peace, through Death's dark valley to the Lord.
Oh, solemn close of the departing year!
When such a standard-bearer falls! and when
At the same moment looms a motley band
Of Vicars Apostolic, Bishops, Cardinals,

The late Rev. Andrew Brandram, who died at Brighton, 26th Dec., 1850, having been for 27 years the indefatigable Clerical Secretary of the British and Foreign Bible Society, He is recorded to have received his first religious impresions while at Winchester school, and preparing for Oriel College, Oxford, where he took a double first class. It is said that, placing his books in a closet which had been left vacant by the boy who preceded him, he found an old Bible, the only thing, it seems, that it had not been thought worth while to carry away. Curiosity impelled him to read it, and he became wise to salvation. From that time his whole character was altered; and probably his after-life influenced as the chief officer of that noble Institution, whose object is, by the united efforts of all denominations of Christians, however differing in other respects, yet combining in this,-to circulate the same volume throughout the world! He kept this Bible till his death.

With locks and chains, and seals, and interdicts,
To fasten up again these precious gifts,

Man's birthright, from his race. Oh, hasten then,
Ye faithful soldiers of the cross, and dare

These spoilers, who intrude on England's shores,
Or England's glorious work! Increase your gifts
Of zeal and love! add fervor to your prayers
That while for earthly domination strive
The Potsherds of the earth, ye may renew
Th' unfinish'd work of best benevolence,
And be, through widest of all earth's domains,
Evangelists of man!

POWER AND LOVE.

THEY know the Almighty's Power,

Who wakened by the rushing midnight shower,

Watch for the fitful breeze

To howl and chafe amid the bending trees,

-Watch for the still white gleam

To bathe the landscape in a fiery stream,

Touching the tremulous eye with sense of light
Too rapid and too pure for all but angel-sight.

They know the Almighty's Love,

Who, when the whirlwinds rock the topmost grove,
Stand in the shade, and hear

The tumult with a deep exulting fear;

How, in their fiercest sway,

Curb'd by some power unseen, they die away,

Like a bold steed that owns his rider's arm,

H. V. T.

Proud to be checked and soothed by that o'er-mastering charm.

But there are storms within

That heave the struggling heart with wilder din;

And there is power and love

The maniac's rushing frenzy to reprove;

And when he takes his seat,

Clothed and in calmness, at his Saviour's feet,*

Is not the power as strange, the love as blest,

As when He said, "Be still," and ocean sank to rest?

* Mark v, 15.

Woe to the wayward heart,

That gladlier turns to eye the shuddering start
Of passion in her might,

Than marks the silent growth of grace and light;
Pleased in the cheerless tomb

To linger, while the morning rays illume
Green lake, and cedar-tuft, and spicy glade,
Shaking their dewy tresses now the storm is laid.
The storm is laid; and now,

In His meek power, He climbs the mountain's brow,
Who bade the waves go sleep,

And lashed the vexed fiends to their yawning deep.
How on a rock they stand,

Who watch His eye, and hold His guiding hand!
Not half so fixed, amid her vassal hills,

Rises the holy pile that Kedron's valley fills.

And wilt thou seek again

Thy howling waste, thy charnel-house and chain,
And with the demons be,

Rather than clasp thine own Deliverer's knee?
Sure 'tis no heaven-bred awe

That bids thee from His healing touch withdraw;

The world and He are struggling in thine heart,

And in thy reckless mood thou biddest thy Lord depart.

He, merciful and mild,

As erst, beholding, loves his wayward child;

When souls of highest birth

Waste their impassioned might on dreams of earth,

He opens Nature's book,

And on His glorious Gospel bids them look

Till by such chords, as rule the choirs above,

Their lawless cries are tuned to hymns of perfect love.

THE OLD YEAR AND THE NEW.

I have watched the Old Year out

In the dead of night,

When the moon was shining clear,
And the stars were bright.

Keble.

I have heard the bell toll loud

On the wakeful ear, And ere its cadence died, Died the worn-out year.

Few were thinking of the past,
Few reflected then,
How the old year silently

Bade adieu to men.

Few thought "We are following
"In the old year's wake;"
And fewer shed the burning tear,
For the old year's sake.

But the New Year coming in,
Claimeth all our care;

For his kindly welcoming,

Let each heart prepare. "Let the old seek his grave,

year

"He has passed away;

"Who forward looks for happier times,

"Thinks not of yesterday."

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