HYMN FOR A SUNDAY-SCHOOL.

GREAT God, in heaven above,

We offer up in love

This hymn of praise;

Help us, O Lord, to be

True worshippers of thee,

And keep us ever free

From evil ways.

May all our teachers feel
A pure and holy zeal

To serve thee well;

And may they, hand in hand,
A blest and happy band,

Lead children to that land

Where angels dwell.

May every opening mind

Some true instruction find,

Some glory see;

And like the budding flower
Beneath the summer's shower,
Show tokens of that power

Which comes from thee.

GOD OF THE SOUL.

GOD of the soul, oh, help us to revere
The mighty marvels thou hast centred here!
May no untimely frost, nor blight of sin,
Blast that immortal life which buds within.

Teach us to bow before the inward light, — The sense of wrong, the consciousness of right; Kindle that faith which unto thee would soar, Aid us to know thee, love thee, and adore !

FAITH AND LOVE.

GLORIOUS that Faith which prompts to deeds of love,

Seeks haunts of woe, and points to Heaven above;
Hastes swiftly forth, 'mid famine and despair,
To make lone want the object of its care!

Divine that Love which girds the soul with might
To vanquish Wrong and vindicate the Right!
God send such Love and Faith: so may they now
Beam from each eye, and kindle on each brow.

COUNSEL.

THINK not each generous deed has yet been done,
Or Truth's diviner summits all been won:

Let Light and Love their splendor shed for you;
Thus boundless realms shall open to your view!
Duty can greatness give to every time,
And make to-day, both glorious and sublime.

Along the dryest, dustiest walk of earth,
The noblest powers may struggle into birth,
'Mid toil and trial some great work fulfil,
With lofty purpose and heroic will!

Pursue the path by Truth and Virtue trod,
True to yourself, your country, and your God!

DUTY.

THINK not that now,-time brings such quiet
hours,-

No task remains to tax thy highest powers!
Hark! Duty calls! Quick, quick; be up and
doing,

Some noble deed, some generous thought pur-
suing !

LIFE.

ARTISTS may picture forth their visions fair,
And Poets breathe, in music, to the air;
Sculptors may beauteous forms to marble give,-
Thine be a higher, nobler work, to live!

To conscience faithful, and from passion free,
What Genius would describe, that seek to be!
Greater than sculptured stone or glowing line,
Is that true soul whose purpose is divine!

1