See! how he shudders at the thought of

death; What doubt and horror hang upon his breath; The gibb’ring teeth, glaz’d eye, and marble

limb,— Shades from the tomb stalk out, and stare

on him!

Lo! there, in yonder fancy-haunted room, What mutter'd curses trembled through the

gloom, When pale, and shiv'ring, and bedew'd with

fear, The dying sceptic felt his hour drew near; From his parch'd tongue no sainted murmurs

fell, No bright hopes kindled at his faint farewell ; As the last throes of death convuls'd his cheek, He gnash'd and scowl'd, and raised a hideous

shriek ; Rounded his eyes into a ghastly glare ; Lock'd his white lips and all was mute de

spair !

Go, child of darkness, see a Christian die, No horror pales his lip, or rolls his eye ; No dreadful doubts, or dreamy terrors, start The hope Religion pillows on his heart. When with a dying hand he waves adieu To all who love so well, and weep so true ; Meek, as an infant to the mother's breast Turns fondly longing for its wonted rest, He pants for where congenial spirits stray, Turns to his God, and sighs his soul away.

THE LITTLE WANDERING JEW.

ANON.

Far, far from Zion, far from God,
And suffering still the chast' ning rod;
Hopeless, and homeless, meets your view,
A little, weary, wand'ring Jew!
No Father's name, no worship sweet,
No Saviour's love, no mercy-seat-
Blessings his nation brought to you-
Now glad the little weary Jew!

O Christian Gentiles ! can you hear
That gospel to your souls so dear;
And yet, no sympathy from you,
Await the little wand'ring Jew?

Or canst thou view the eastern star, Which brought the wise men from afar, And whilst it shines so bright on you, Forget the darkness of the Jew!

Or canst thou hear thy God's address,
" Who blesseth thee, I'll ever bless;'
And yet refuse the tribute due,
To teach and cheer the little Jew!

THE PROMISED SAVIOUR.

CAMERON.

HARK! the glad sound, the Saviour comes,

The Saviour promis'd long; Let ev'ry heart exult with joy,

And ev'ry voice be song!

On Him the Spirit, largely shed,

Exerts its sacred fire ;
Wisdom and might, and zeal and love,

His holy breast inspire.

He comes !—the pris'ners to relieve,

In Satan's bondage held ;
The gates of brass before him burst,

The iron fetters yield.

He comes !-from dark’ning scales of vice,

To clear the inward sight;
And on the eye-balls of the blind

To pour celestial light.

He comes !-the broken hearts to bind,

The bleeding souls to cure;
And with the treasures of his grace

T'enrich the humble poor.

The sacred year has now revolv'd,

Accepted of the Lord; When Heaven's high promise is fulfillid,

And Israel is restored.

Our glad hosannahs, Prince of Peace

Thy welcome shall proclaim; And heaven's exalted arches ring

With thy most honour'd name.

VERSES BY THE LATE PRINCESS AMELIA,

DAUGHTER OF GEORGE III.

UNTHINKING, idle, wild, and young,
I laugh'd, and talk'd, and danc'd, and sung;
And, proud of health, of freedom vain,
Dreamed not of sorrow, care, or pain,
Concluding in those hours of glee,
That all the world was made for me.

But when the days of trial came,
When sickness shook this trembling frame;
When folly's gay pursuits were o'er,
And I could dance and sing no more,
It then occurred how sad 'twould be
Were this world only made for me.