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THE GOOD TIME COMING.

THE GOOD TIME COMING. There's a good time coming, boys, a good time coming ;

We may not live to see the day,

But earth shall glisten in its ray ; Cannon-balls may aid the truth, but Thought's a weapon

stronger ; We'll win our battle by its aid-wait a little longer.

There's a good time coming, boys, a good time coming;

The pen shall supersede the sword,

And Right, not Might, shall be the lord ; Worth, not birth, shall rule mankind, and be acknowledged

stronger : The proper impulse has been given-wait a little longer. There's a good time coming, boys, a good time coming ;

War, in all men's eyes, shall be

A monster of iniquity ; Nations shall not quarrel then, to prove which is the

stronger,

Nor slaughter men for glory's sake-wait a little longer.

There's a good time coming, boys, a good time coming ;

Hateful revelries of creed

Shall not make their martyrs bleed ; Religion shall be shorn of pride, and flourish all the

stronger; And Charity shall trim her lamp-wait a little longer.

There's a good time coming, boys, a good time coming ;

And a poor man's family

Shall not be his misery ;
Every child shall be a help to make his right arm stronger :
The happier he the more he has—wait a little longer.
There's a good time coming, boys, a good time coming ;

Little children shall not toil
Under or above the soil ;

But shall play in healthful fields till limbs and mind grow

stronger ; And every one shall read and write-wait a little longer.

There's a good time coming, boys, a good time coming ;

The people shall be temperate,

And shall love instead of hate ; They shall use, and not abuse, and make all virtue stronger : The Reformation has begun-wait a little longer.

There's a good time coming, boys, a good time coming;

Let us aid it all we can,

Every woman, every man ; Smallest helps, if rightly given, make the impulse stronger: 'Twill be strong enough one day-wait a little longer.

Charles Mackay.

SONG OF OLD TIME.

I wear not the purple of earth-born kings,
Nor the stately erminel of lordly things;2
But monarch and courtier, though great they be,
Must fall from their glory, and bend to me.
My sceptre is gemless ; yet who can say
They will not come under its mighty sway ?
Ye may learn who I am ; there's the passing chime,
And the dial to herald me-Old King Time !

Softly I creep like a thief in the night,
After cheeks all blooming, and eyes all bright;
My steps are seen on the patriarch's brow,
In the deep-worn furrows and locks of snow.
Who laugh at my power? The young and the gay :
But they dream not how closely I track their way.
Wait till their first bright sands have run,
And they will not smile at what Time hath done.

MARY IN HEAVEN.

I eat through treasures, with moth and rust:
I lay the gorgeous palace in dust ;
I make the shell-proof tower my own,
And break the battlement, stone from stone.
Work on at your cities and temples, proud Man!
Build high as ye may, and strong as ye can ;
But the marble shall crumble, the pillar shall fall,
And Time-Old Time-will be King, after all !

Eliza Cook.

1 Ermine, a small animal with a snow- they should be pure, that is, in

white fur. The state robes of capable of being bribed to do judges and magistrates are of wrong. ermine fur, as an emblem that | 2 Things, personages.

MARY IN HEAVEN.1
Thou lingering star! with lessening ray,

That lov'st to greet the early morn,
Again thou usherest in the day

My Mary from my soul was torn.
O Mary! dear departed shade!

Where is thy blissful place of rest?
See'st thou thy lover lowly laid ?

Hear'st thou the groans that rend his breast ?
That sacred hour can I forget-

Can I forget the hallowed grove
Where by the winding Ayr we met,

To live one day of parting love ?
Eternity will not efface

Those records dear of transports past;
Thy image at our last embrace-

Ah, little thought we 'twas our last!
Ayr gurgling kissed his pebbled shore,

O'erhung with wild woods, thickening, green ;
The fragrant birch and hawthorn hoar

Twined amorous round the raptured scene.

The flowers sprang wanton to be prest,

The birds sang love on every spray,
Till too, too soon, the glowing west.

Proclaimed the speed of winged day.

Still o'er these scenes my memory wakes,

And fondly broods with miser care ;
Time but the impression deeper makes,

As streams their channels deeper wear.
My Mary! dear departed shade !

Where is thy blissful place of rest?
See'st thou thy lover lowly laid ?
Hear'st thou the groans that rend his breast ?

Burns.

1 Mary in heaven. This pathetic lyric |

was written in memory of Mary

Campbell, to whom Burns was en. gaged, but who died suddenly.

THE SUNBEAM.

Thou art no lingerer in monarch's hall,
A joy thou art and a wealth to all!
A bearer of hope unto land and sea :
Sunbeam ! what gift hath the world like thee ?

Thou art walking the billows, and ocean smiles ;
Thou hast touched with glory his thousand isles;
Thou hast lit up the ships and the feathery foam,
And gladdened the sailor like words from home.
To the solemn depths of the forest-shades
Thou art streaming on through their green arcades,
And the quivering leaves that have caught their glow,
Like fireflies glance to the pools below.
I looked on the mountains—a vapour lay
Folding their heights in its dark array;
Thou brakest forth—and the mist became
A crown and a mantle of living flame.

NEVER SAY FAIL!

I looked on the peasant's lowly cot-
Something of sadness had wrapt the spot;
But a gleam of thee on its lattice fell,
And it laughed into beauty at that bright spell.
Sunbeam of summer! oh, what is like thee ?
Hope of the wilderness, joy of the sea !
One thing is like thee to mortals given-
The faith touching all things with hues of Heaven !

Mrs Hemans.

NEVER SAY FAIL!

Keep pushing—'tis wiser than sitting aside,
And dreaming and sighing and waiting the tide.
In life's earnest battle they only prevail,
Who daily inarch onward and never say fail !

With an eye ever open—a tongue that 's not dumb,
And a heart that will never to sorrow succumb-
You 'll battle and conquer though thousands assail :
How strong and how mighty, who never say fail !

The spirit of angels is active, I know,
As higher and higher in glory they go :
Methinks on bright pinions from heaven they sail,
To cheer and encourage who never say fail !

Ahead then keep pushing, and elbow your way,
Unheeding the envious, and asses that bray;
All obstacles vanish, all enemies quail,
In the might of their wisdom who never say fail!
In life's rosy morning, in manhood's firm pride,
Let this be the motto your footsteps to guide ;
In storm and in sunshine, whatever assail,
We'll onward and conquer, and never say fail!

Unknown.

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