They meet—the "sweet psalm-tune" they raise; They join their grateful hearts, and praise

The Maker they adore.

They met in holy joy ; but they

Grieve now, who saw His wrath that day,

And sadly went they all away,

And better than before.

There was one cloud, that overcast
The valley and the hill, nor past

Like other mists away:

It mov'd not round the circling sweep
Of the clear sky, but dark and deep,
Came down upon them sheer and steep,
Where they had met to pray.

One single flash! it rent the spire,
And pointed downward all its fire—
What could its power withstay?
There was an aged head; and there
Was beauty in its youth, and fair
Floated the young locks of her hair—
It call'd them both away!

The Sabbath eve went sweetly down;
Its parting sunbeams mildly shone
Upon each rock and flower;
And gently blew the southern gale,
-But on it was a voice of wail,

And eyes were wet, and cheeks were pale,

In that sad evening hour.

TO A MISSIONARY,

WHO ATTENDED THE LATE MEETING OF THE BIBLE SOCIETY AT NEW-YORK.

WHY should thy heart grow faint, thy cheek be pale?
Why in thine eye should hang the frequent tear,

As if the promise of your God would fail,
And you and all be left to doubt and fear?
Doubt not, for holy men are gathered here;
Fear not, for holy thoughts surround the place,

And angel pinions hover round, to bear
To their bright homes the triumphs of his grace,

Whose word all sin and shame, all sorrow shall efface.

Pure as a cherub's wishes be thy thought,
For in thine ear are heavenly whisperings;
And strong thy purposes, as though they sought
To do the errand of the King of Kings.
And if thy heart be right, his mantle flings
Its glorious folds of charity around

Thine earthly feelings; and the tuneful strings Of harps in heaven shall vibrate to the sound

Of thy soul's prayer from earth, if thou art contrite found.

Go then, and prosper. He has promised all-
All that instructed zeal can need or ask ;
And thou art summon'd with too loud a call,
To hesitate and tremble at thy task.

Let scoffers in their glimpse of sunshine bask,
And note thy pilgrimage in other light :

Theirs is a look that peeps but through a mask; Thine is an open path, too plain, too bright

For those who dose by day, and see but in the night.

THE ROBBER.*

THE moon hangs lightly on yon western hill;
And now it gives a parting look, like one
Who sadly leaves the guilty. You and I
Must watch, when all is dark, and steal along
By these lone trees, and wait for plunder.-Hush!
I hear the coming of some luckless wheel,
Bearing we know not what-perhaps the wealth
Torn from the needy, to be hoarded up
By those who only count it; and perhaps
The spendthrift's losses, or the gambler's gains,
The thriving merchant's rich remittances,
Or the small trifle some poor serving girl
Sends to her poorer parents. But come on—
Be cautious.-There-'tis done;

and now away,

* Two large bags containing newspapers, were stolen from the boot behind the Southern Mail Coach yesterday morning, about one o'clock, between New-Brunswick and Bridgetown. The straps securing the bags in the boot were cut, and nothing else injured or removed therefrom. The letter mails are always carried in the front boot of the coach, under the driver's feet, and therefore cannot be so easily approached.-N. Y. Ev. Post.

With breath drawn in, and noiseless step, to seek The darkness that befits so dark a deed.

Now strike your light.-Ye powers that look upon us! What have we here? Whigs, Sentinels, Gazettes, Heralds, and Posts, and Couriers-Mercuries, Recorders, Advertisers, and Intelligencers— Advocates and Auroras.-There, what's that! That's-a Price Current.

I do venerate

The man, who rolls the smooth and silky sheet
Upon the well cut copper. I respect

The worthier names of those who sign bank bills ;
And, though no literary man, I love

To read their short and pithy sentences.
But I hate types and printers-and the gang
Of editors and scribblers. Their remarks,
Essays, songs, paragraphs and prophecies,
I utterly detest. And these, particularly,
Are just the meanest and most rascally,
"Stale and unprofitable" publications,
I ever read in my life.