Kneel down at the couch of departing faith,
And hear the last words the believer saith:
He has bidden adieu to his earthly friends,
There is peace in his eye that upward tends;
There is peace in his calm, confiding air,

For his last thoughts are God's, his last words

prayer.

The voice of prayer in the world of bliss,
But gladder, purer, than rose from this;
The ransomed shout to their glorious King,
Where no sorrow shades the soul as they sing ;
But a sinless, joyous song they raise,
And their voice of prayer is eternal praise.

THY DAYS ARE NUMBERED.

ARK! hark! a cry is

every peopled plain,

gone

abroad from

It sweeps along the sounding shore, it

murmurs from the main;

From every varied spot of earth, where human creatures be,

It loudly echoes through the land, and spreads from

sea to sea;

Thy days are numbered.

103

From palace wall and humble cot, from town and

village lone;

From every newly-opened grave, and every churchyard stone;

In every language under heaven, a voice repeats the

cry,

"Thy days are numbered, mortal man, and thou art born to die."

Whate'er thy state may be, whate'er the paths thy feet have trod,

Forsake thy sins and lowly kneel, and seek the Lord thy God;

Prepare thee for thy bed of death, though now thy bosom burn,

For dust thou art, and suddenly to dust shalt thou

return.

What though ten thousand flattering tongues conspire to praise thee now,

Though glittering stars adorn thy breast, and diadems thy brow;

'Mid all thy dreams of earthly bliss thou soon shalt

hear the cry,

"Thy days are numbered, mortal man, and thou art doomed to die."

THE WRECK.

STOOD upon the beach at even-
Darker the clouds above me grew,
Till sable was the vault of heaven,

And lightnings o'er the waters flew.
On shore the forest trees were bending;
Upon the sea, the billow's crest,
With fierce tempestuous wrath extending,
Covered with foam its heaving breast.

I saw a bark by wild waves shattered,
Its cordage flying with the gale ;
Its broken masts in fragments scattered,
And rudely rent each quivering sail.
Hope came,—for fast the shore 'twas gaining;
Hope fled, for rocks appeared between.
It struck! a stranded wreck remaining
Alone declared what once had been.

And what is life? A stormy ocean;

Man the frail bark, and heaven the shore,

Which, after many a fierce commotion,
That bark may reach to leave no more.

But if, by guilt and error driven,

On sin's dark rocks it strikes at last,
A fearful wreck, in sight of heaven
It sinks and hope is ever past.

ILGRIM to a world of gladness,
Christian, though thy lot be low,
Sorely tried with sin and sadness,
Take thy staff and onward go.

Though thou suffer cold and hunger,
Pain and peril, want and woe,
Bear thy griefs a little longer,
Gird thy loins, and onward go,

Death is but a dreamless slumber;
God will heavenly joys bestow—
Joys that angels cannot number;
Onward, pilgrim-onward go.

THE HOME, THE FRIEND, THE REST.

RT thou young, and this world dost thou love?

O why shouldst thou thoughtlessly

roam;

Thy Father is calling thy young heart above,
And the beautiful heavens are thy home ;—
To thy Home, truant boy-to thy Home.

Hast thou numbered the years of a man?
O think, then, in time of thy end;

Though thy griefs may be many, though life be a

span,

Yet God is thy Father and Friend ;—

To thy Friend, man of grief-to thy Friend.

Art thou aged in years and in woes,

And weary, and worn, and oppressed?
There's peace for the pilgrim—a place of repose,
And heaven is appointed for rest ;-
To thy Rest, man of years-to thy Rest.

SPRING.

OW pleasant is the opening year!
The clouds of winter melt away,
The flowers in beauty reappear,
The songster carols from the spray.

Lengthens the more refulgent day,
And bluer grows the arching sky;
All things around us seem to say,
"Christian, direct thy thoughts on high."

In darkness, through the weary length
Of winter, slept both bud and bloom;
But nature now puts forth her strength,

And starts renewed as from the tomb.