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"Come as in days and years gone by,
"Console me with thy love;
"Then gently, calmly, let me die,
"And see thy face above!

"Let me on faith's bright pinions soar
"To heaven thy bright abode !
"There let me praise thee evermore,
"My Saviour and my God!"

The soul is fled !-what wondrous power
Is found in Jesus' name!
How it hath cheer'd the dying hour,
And kindled memory's flame!
My Saviour! let me cleave to thee,
Throughout life's weary way,
And let thy name my refuge be
In death's eventful day!

LINES

WRITTEN BY CAPTAIN ALAN

GARDNER,

WHO, AFTER GREAT SUFFERINGS, PERISHED HIS ATTEMPT TO ESTABLISH A PATAGONIAN MISSION.

IN

ALL that I have, O Lord, is thine;
All that I am thy Spirit wrought;
What would I not for thee resign,
Whose precious blood my ransom bought
Lord, here I am. my life, my all,
I hold obedient to thy call.

THE RAINBOW.

TRIUMPHANT arch that fill'st the sky,
When clouds prepare to part;

I ask not proud philosophy

To teach me what thou art.

When o'er the green undeluged earth,
Heaven's covenant thou didst shine,
How came the world's grey fathers forth,
To watch thy sacred sign.

And when its yellow lustre smiled
O'er mountains yet untrod,
Each mother held aloft her child
To bless the bow of God.

How glorious is thy girdle cast,
O'er mountain, tower, and town;
Or pictured in the ocean vast
A thousand fathoms down!

As fresh in yon horizon dark,
As young thy features seem,
As when the eagle from the ark,
First sported in thy beam.

For faithful to its sacred page,

Heaven still rebuilds thy span,

Nor lets the type grow pale with age,
That first spoke peace to man.

CAMPBELL.

SMALL THINGS.

"Who hath despised the day of small things ?" Zech. iv., 10

FROM little seeds sweet flowers spring,
And perfume o'er our pathway fling,
The noble oaks derive their birth
From acorns buried in the earth;
And the bright corn on waving plains
Rose from the tiny scattered grains.

And infant hands may plant the seed,
And from that small and simple deed
Rich produce shall adorn the ground,
And gladden every heart around;

For God will send the sun and shower
To cherish and refresh the flower.

How small the seed of truth appears!
Oft sown with trembling and with tears;
And yet that precious germ imparts
Fragrance and life to desert hearts;
Nor shall its progress stay until
Its branches the wide world shall fill.

And a child's soft and earnest prayer
Rich blessings may to others bear;
And a child's tract rightly given,
May aid in guiding souls to heaven;
And lisping accents may proclaim
The sweetness of a Saviour's name.

A THOUGHT ON BEREAVEMENT

Heb. xii. 10.

SLEEP on, sleep on, thou dearest one,
All silent as thou art,

O why did thy bright loveliness
From heart and home depart?
The seal of heaven is on thy brow,
So calm, and wide, and fair:
Time, woe, or sin shall never stamp
Their blighting wrinkles there.

And oh if we who mourn thee now,
That better world could see,
The deathless joy that lights thy brow-
We'd weep no more for thee:
But learn the lesson heaven meant
By change and death to shew,-
How oft the heart is chastened
Through what it loves below.

M. T. WIGHTMAN.

EPITAPH ON A CLERGYMAN. THIS stone itself shall crumbling pass away, These sacred walls shall moulder to decay, And with thy much loved dust their ruins blend, Lamented pastor, husband, parent, friend! But safe from dying nature's final strife, Thy name is written in the book of life; Thy noblest record here, thy people's love; A crown of bliss thy bright reward above.

R. W. KYLE.

CHRIST STILLING THE TEMPEST.

"Master, carest thou not that we perish?"-Mark iv. 38.

SUCH was the disciples' cry

When the crested waves beat high,
And the heavens above were dark
O'er the tempest-driven bark.

Such, O Lord! in trial's hour,
When afflictions round us lower,
Now, on life's tempestuous sea,
Our complaining cry to Thee.

But thou didst not, though upbraided,
Leave thy followers then unaided;
Prompt to succour, swift to save,
Thou rebukedst wind and wave.

At the word which spoke thy will,
Then the stormy wind was still;
At thy voice, the waves subsided,
And the gentlest murmurs glided.

Though their faith, too often frail,
In thy power divine might fail,
Though thou mights't reprove their fear,
Still thy saving arm was near.

Thus, O Lord! on us look down,
When above us clouds may frown;

Tossing on a stormy sea,

Helpless, hopeless, but for Thee.

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