wherein seriousness and solemnity are put on for the occasion, and texts of holy Scripture are ostentatiously paraded to the eye, rather than lovingly commended to the heart; but chastened, mature, and experienced epistles of Christian piety, setting forth faithfully solemn Scriptural truths, as well as promises of Divine consolation, showing, with the desire to minister to the comfort of the perishing body, a yet greater anxiety for the welfare of the undying soul.

Here, then, was the link uniting earthly with heavenly things, and pressing on my consideration the goodness of God, even in the lesser events of life. I was just in the frame of mind to enable me to get good from books and letters. Again I say, that the closer we connect our earthly objects with our heavenly hopes, the greater will be our peace; and the clearer we discern the hand of our heavenly Father in our daily concerns, the more shall we reverence him, love him, and live to his glory.

Oh, the unspeakable consolation of the presence of God in seasons of affliction! Well may we pray that "the peace of God, which passeth all understanding," may "keep" our "hearts and minds in the knowledge and love of God, and of his Son, Jesus Christ our Lord." In such

seasons, with an humble, broken, contrite, and grateful spirit, we call to mind our mercies, and our language is, "Bless the Lord, O my soul and all that is within me, bless his holy name. Bless the Lord, O my soul, and forget not all his benefits: who forgiveth all thine iniquities; who healeth all thy diseases; who redeemeth thy life from destruction ; who crowneth thee with loving-kindness and tender mercies," Psa. ciii. 1—4.

The kindness of our friends may be regarded as a brook by the way, to comfort us in our pilgrim course; whose stream becomes the more refreshing when we believe that the fountain whence it flows is the love of our heavenly Father, who gave his Son to die for sinners; and it is no trifling alleviation to know, in the midst of our afflictions, that they proceed from the same Almighty source of goodness and mercy, and are sent for our advantage. Whether, then, we enjoy or suffer, "the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, the love of God, and the fellowship of the Holy Ghost," should be the subject of our daily thoughts, thus uniting our passing interests with our everlasting expectations.

Help me, O Lord, in all my infirmities; forgive all my transgressions; and abundantly

increase my love and knowledge of Him, whom

to know is eternal life.

My grovelling spirit, in thy mercy raise;

Let holy objects to my heart be given,

That faith may mingled be with prayer and praise,
And all my earthly ends, with hopes of heaven.
Lord, let me see thy hand through life and death,
Where'er abroad my wandering feet may rove;
And humbly serve thee till my latest breath,
And love thee with an everlasting love.

T

TO LADY B

ON HER BIRTHDAY,

February, 17, 1850.*

How fleet the winged moments run,
To reach their destined goal;
Days swiftly pass, Time turns his glass,
And on the seasons roll.

Though yet is heard the wintry blast,
St. Valentine's is gone and past.

An aged harper, worn with years,
With tresses thin and grey,
By stately halls, and palace walls,
Pursues his thoughtful way.
Age does not often weep-then why
That tear-drop trembling in his eye?

And now a goodly band of guests
Are met in chamber fair;

The gay and young are mid the throng,
The harper old is there;

And she, from Compton's Manor grey,

Who sang "The Dame of Rotherhaye."

*Lady B. entered on her everlasting rest while this work was passing through the press.

But chief amid that circle fair,

Is one in sable clad;

She mourns her lord-by all deplored;
Then how can she be glad?

Though birthday smiles a joy impart,
Her grief lies heavy on her heart.

The hoary harper sees her pain,
And tries, as best he may,

To soothe her grief, and give relief
On this her natal day.

He strikes his harp, while thus he sings,
Though time has rudely warp'd the strings:—

"Oh listen, listen, lady dear,

Nor thus thy lord deplore;

This thought so bless'd, may calm thy breast, 'Not lost, but gone before.'

He saw the bridal jubilee,

Then onward went, to wait for thee.

“Oh, would that man could grateful prove
That still, whate'er our lot,

One truth so bright for sorrow's night,
Might never be forgot.

E'en when our sky looks cold and drear,
Soft beams of mercy linger near.

“Yes, lady dear, thy lord is gone;
But wait a little space,

And lo! thine eyes with sweet surprise,
Again shall see his face;

Thy friend, protector, guardian, guide;

Immortal, sainted, glorified.