The clouds might give abundant rain,

The nightly dews might fall,

The herb that keepeth life in man
Might yet have drunk them all.

Then wherefore, wherefore were they made,

All dyed with rainbow light,
All fashion'd with supremest grace,
Upspringing day and night;
Springing in valleys green and low,
And on the mountains high,
And in the silent wilderness,
Where no man passeth by?

Our outward life requires them not,
Then wherefore had they birth ?—
To minister delight to man,

To beautify the earth;

To whisper hope-to comfort man
Whene'er his faith is dim;

For whoso careth for the flowers
Will care much more for him!

'TWA

The Dial of Flowers.

MRS HEMANS.

WAS a lovely thought to mark the hours,
As they floated in light away,

By the opening and the folding flowers

That laugh to the summer's day.

Thus had each moment its own rich hue,

And its graceful cup and bell,

In whose colour'd vase might sleep the dew,
Like a pearl in an ocean shell.

The Law of Love.

To such sweet signs might the time have flow'd

In a golden current on,

Ere from the garden, man's first abode,

The glorious guests were gone.

So might the days have been brightly told -
Those days of song and dreams—
When shepherds gather'd their flocks of old
By the blue Arcadian streams.

So in those isles of delight, that rest
Far off in a breezeless main,

Which many a bark, with a weary quest,
Has sought, but still in vain.

Yet is not life, in its real flight,

Mark'd thus, even thus,-on earth, By the closing of one hope's delight, And another's gentle birth?

Oh! let us live, so that flower by flower,
Shutting in turn, may leave

A lingerer still for the sunset hour,

A charm for the shaded eve.

The Law of Love.

2 Kings iv. 1-6.

ARCHBISHOP TRENCH.

POUR forth the oil, pour boldly forth,

It will not fail until

Thou failest vessels to provide,

Which it may largely fill.

219

But then, when such are found no more,
Though flowing broad and free,

Till then, and nourish'd from on high,
It straightway stanch'd will be.

Dig channels for the streams of love,
Where they may broadly run;
And love has overflowing streams
To fill them every one.

But if at any time thou cease
Such channels to provide,
The very founts of love for thee
Will soon be parch'd and dried.

For we must share, if we would keep,
That good thing from above;
Ceasing to give, we cease to have---
Such is the law of love.

Brightest and Best.

BISHOP REGINALD HEBER.—Music by S. Glover.

BRIG

RIGHTEST and best of the sons of the morning Dawn on our darkness, and lend us Thine aid! Star of the East, the horizon adorning,

Guide where our infant Redeemer is laid!

Cold on His cradle the dew-drops are shining;
Low lies His head with the beasts of the stall;

Angels adore Him, in slumber reclining,

Maker and Monarch and Saviour of all.

Lazarus.

Say, shall we yield Him, in costly devotion,
Odours of Edom and offerings divine?
Gems of the mountain, and pearls of the ocean,
Myrrh from the forest, or gold from the mine?

Vainly we offer each ample oblation:

Vainly with gifts would His favour secure; Richer by far is the heart's adoration; Dearer to God are the prayers of the poor.

Brightest and best of the sons of the morning,
Dawn on our darkness, and lend us Thine aid!
Star of the East, the horizon adorning,
Guide where our infant Redeemer is laid!

WE

Lazarus.

A. TENNYSON.

HEN Lazarus left his charnel cave,

And home to Mary's house return'd,

Was this demanded-if he yearn'd

To hear her weeping by his grave?

Where wert thou, brother, those four days?
There lives no record of reply,

Which telling what it is to die
Had surely added praise to praise.

From every house the neighbours met,

The streets were fill'd with joyful sound,
A solemn gladness even crown'd

The purple brows of Olivet.

221

Behold a man raised up by Christ!
The rest remaineth unreveal'd;

He told it not; or something seal'd The lips of that Evangelist.

The Spring-tide Hour.

REV. JOHN S. B. MONSELL, D.D.

HE spring-tide hour

THE

Brings leaf and flower,

With songs of life and love;
And many a lay

Wears out the day

In many a leafy grove.

Bird, flower, and tree

Seem to agree

Their choicest gifts to bring;

But this poor heart

Bears not its part,

In it there is no spring.

Dews fall apace,
The dews of grace,
Upon this soul of sin,

And love Divine

Delights to shine
Upon the waste within :

Yet, year by year,

Fruits, flowers appear,

And birds their praises sing;

But this poor heart

Bears not its part

Its winter has no spring.