That heaven-ward seem so free to move

When earth can yield no more:

Then from afar on God we cry;
But should the mist of woe roll by,
Not showers across an April sky
Drift, when the storm is o'er,

Faster than those false drops and few
Fleet from the heart, a worthless dew.
What sadder scene can angels view
Than self-deceiving tears,

Pour'd idly over some dark page

Of earlier life, though pride or rage
The record of to-day engage,

A woe for future years?

Spirits, that round the sick man's bed Watch'd, noting down each prayer he made, Were your unerring roll display'd,

His pride of health to' abase; Or, when soft showers in season fall Answering a famish'd nation's call, Should unseen fingers on the wall

Our vows forgotten trace;

How should we gaze in trance of fear!
Yet shines the light as thrilling clear
From heaven upon that scroll severe,
"Ten cleans'd and one remain !"
Nor surer would the blessing prove
Of humbled hearts, that own thy love,
Should choral welcome from above
Visit our senses plain :

Than by Thy placid voice and brow, With healing first, with comfort now, Turn'd upon him, who hastes to bow Before Thee, heart and knee; "Oh! thou, who only would'st be blest, "On thee alone my blessing rest!

"Rise, go thy way in peace, possess'd "For evermore of me."

FIFTEENTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY.

Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow. St. Matt. vi. 28.

SWEET nurslings of the vernal skies,
Bath'd in soft airs, and fed with dew,

What more than magic in you lies,

To fill the heart's fond view?
In childhood's sports, companions gay,
In sorrow, on Life's downward way,
How soothing! in our last decay
Memorials prompt and true.

Relics ye are of Eden's bowers,
As pure, as fragrant, and as fair,
As when ye crown'd the sunshine hours
Of happy wanderers there.

Fall'n all beside-the world of life, How is it stain'd with fear and strife! In Reason's world what storms are rife, What passions range and glare!

But cheerful and unchang'd the while
Your first and perfect form ye shew,
The same that won Eve's matron smile
In the world's opening glow.

The stars of Heaven a course are taught
Too high above our human thought ;-
Ye may be found if ye are sought,
And as we gaze, we know.

Ye dwell beside our paths and homes,
Our paths of sin, our homes of sorrow,

And guilty man, where'er he roams,
Your innocent mirth may borrow.

The birds of air before us fleet,

They cannot brook our shame to meet―

But we may taste your

solace sweet

And come again to-morrow.

Ye fearless in your nests abide

Nor may we scorn, too proudly wise,

Your silent lessons, undescried

By all but lowly eyes:

For ye could draw th' admiring gaze
Of Him who worlds and hearts surveys:
Your order wild, your fragrant maze,
He taught us how to prize.

Ye felt your Maker's smile that hour,

As when He paus'd and own'd you good; His blessing on earth's primal bower,

Ye felt it all renew'd.

What care ye now,

if winter's storm

Sweep ruthless o'er each silken form?

Christ's blessing at your heart is warm,

Ye fear no vexing mood.

Alas! of thousand bosoms kind,

That daily court you and caress,

How few the happy secret find
Of your calm loveliness!
"Live for to-day! to-morrow's light
"To-morrow's cares shall bring to sight,
"Go sleep like closing flowers at night,
"And Heaven thy morn will bless."