As sweep the clouds o'er ocean's breast
When shriek's the wint'ry wind,
So doubtful thoughts, gray dial-stone,
Come sweeping o'er my mind.

I think of what could place thee here,
Of those beneath thee laid,

And ponder if thou wert not raised
In mock'ry o'er the dead.

Nay! man, when on life's stage they fret,
May mock his fellow-men;

In sooth their sob'rest pranks afford
Rare food for mock'ry then.

But ah! when pass'd their brief sojourn,
When Heaven's dread doom is said,
Beats there a human heart could pour
Light mock'ries o'er the dead?

The fiend unblest, who still to harm
Directs his felon pow'r,

May ope the book of grace to him

Whose day of grace is o'er.

But sure the man has never lived,
In any age or clime,

Could raise in mock'ry o'er the dead
The stone that measures time.

Gray dial-stone, I fain would know

What motive placed thee here,

Where sadness heaves the frequent sigh,

And drops the frequent tear.

Like thy carved plain, gray dial-stone,

Grief's weary mourners be;

Dark sorrow metes out time to them,
Dark shade marks time on thee.

Yes! sure 'twas wise to place thee here, To catch the eye of him

To whom earth's brightest gauds appear Worthless, and dull, and dim.

We think of time, when time has fled The friend our tears deplore;

The God our light proud hearts deny, Our grief-worn hearts adore.

Gray-stone, o'er thee the lazy night
Passes untold, away,

Nor is it thine at noon to teach

When falls the solar ray.

In death's dark night, gray dial-stone,
Cease all the works of men,

In life, if Heaven withholds its aid,
Bootless their works and vain.

Gray dial-stone, while yet thy shade
Points out those hours are mine,

While yet at early morn I rise,

And rest at day's decline;

Would that the Sun that formed thine,
His bright rays beam'd on me,
That I, thou aged dial-stone,

Might measure time like thee.

J E HO VA H-JĮ REH.

RICHARD HUIE, M. D.

My brother, cease that plaintive moan,
My sister, wipe those tears away;

What though your sweetest joys are flown?
What though your choicest gourds decay?
Earth's bliss is but a summer flower,
Earth's woe a swiftly-ebbing tide;

And still in each distressing hour,
Jehovah hears, and will provide!

I too have felt the pelting storm,
Which rent the twig and parent tree;

I too have wept the faded form,

And seen my brightest prospects flee; I too have marked my loved ones fall, In childhood's bloom and manhood's pride; Yet faith could whisper, 'midst it all, Jehovah hears, and will provide.

But what am I? See yonder hill,

The Altar's built, the heir is bound; The patriarch's heart has ceased to thrill, His hand is raised to strike the wound; When, hark! an angel stops the deed, Young Isaac's bonds are cast aside Behold a meaner victim bleed,

Jehovah hears, and will provide!

More wondrous yet, when sin had cost
This earth its charms, and man his soul;
When worlds could not redeem the lost,
Nor angels judgment's course control;

The Son of God, in mortal guise,

While friends desert and foes deride, On Calvary's blood-stained summit dies!— Jehovah hears and will provide!

Then, brother, cease that plaintive moan,
Then, sister, wipe those tears away;

What though your sweetest joys are flown?
What though your choicest gourds decay?
Earth's bliss is but a summer flow'r,

Earth's woe a swiftly-ebbing tide; And still, in each distressing hour,

Jehovah hears, and will provide.

JEHOVAH ISID KEKU.

REV. R. M. M'CHEYNE.

"The Lord our righteousness."

(THE WATCHWORD OF THE REFORMERS.)

I ONCE was a stranger to grace and to God,

I knew not my danger, and felt not my load; Though friends spoke in rapture of Christ on the tree, Jehovah Tsidkenu was nothing to me.

I oft read with pleasure, to soothe or engage,
Isaiah's wild measure and John's simple page;
But e'en when they pictured the blood-sprinkled tree,
Jehovah Tsidkenu seem'd nothing to me.

Like tears from the daughters of Zion that roll,

I wept when the waters went over his soul;
Yet thought not that my sins had nail'd him to the tree
Jehovah Tsidkenu-'twas nothing to me.

When free grace awoke me, by light from on high, Then legal fears shook me, I trembled to die;