And every day

Seize her sweet prey

All fresh and fragrant as He rises, Dropping with a balmy shower, A delicious dew of spices!

Oh! let that happy soul hold fast Her heavenly armful; she shall taste At once ten thousand paradises— She shall have power

To rifle and deflower

The rich and roseal spring of those rare sweets
Which, with a swelling bosom, there she meets-
Boundless and infinite, bottomless treasures

Of pure inebriating pleasures:
Happy soul! she shall discover
What joy, what bliss,

How many heavens at once, it is

To have a God become her lover.

RICHARD CRASHAW.

The True Use of Music. LISTED into the cause of sin,

Why should a good be evil? Music, alas! too long has been

Pressed to obey the devilDrunken, or lewd, or light, the lay Flowed to the soul's undoing Widened and strewed with flowers, way Down to eternal ruin.

Who on the part of God will rise,
Innocent sound recover
Fly on the prey, and take the prize,
Plunder the carnal lover -
Strip him of every moving strain,

Every melting measure —
Music in virtue's cause retain,

Rescue the holy pleasure?

Come let us try if Jesus' love
Will not as well inspire us ;
This is the theme of those above-
This upon earth shall fire us.
Say, if your hearts are tuned to sing
Is there a subject greater!
Harmony all its strains may bring;
Jesus' name is sweeter.

What is Prayer?

PRAYER is the soul's sincere desire,

Uttered or unexpressed — The motion of a hidden fire

That trembles in the breast.

Prayer is the burthen of a sigh,
The falling of a tear-
The upward glancing of an eye,
When none but God is near.

Prayer is the simplest form of speech
That infant lips can try —
Prayer the sublimest strains that reach
The majesty on high.

Prayer is the contrite sinner's voice

Returning from his ways, While angels in their songs rejoice, And cry, "Behold he prays!" Prayer is the Christian's vital breath The Christian's native air His watchword at the gates of deathHe enters heaven with prayer.

In brighter days we read Thy love In flowers beneath, in stars above; And in the track of every storm Behold Thy beauty's rainbow form.

And in the reddest lightning's path
We see no vestiges of wrath,.
But always wisdom,- perfect love,
From flower beneath to stars above.

See, from on high sweet influence rains
On palace, cottage, mountains, plains;
No hour of wrath shall mortal fear,
For Thou, the God of Love, art here.
THEODORE PARKER.

Trust in Providence.

WHILE Thee I seek, protecting Power,
Be my vain wishes stilled;
And may this consecrated hour
With better hopes be filled.

Thy love the power of thought bestowed;
To Thee my thoughts would soar:
Thy mercy o'er my life has flowed;
That mercy I adore!

In each event of life, how clear
Thy ruling hand I see!
Each blessing to my soul more dear
Because conferred by Thee!

In every joy that crowns my days,
In every pain I bear,

My heart shall find delight in praise,
Or seek relief in prayer.

When gladness wings my favored hour, Thy love my thoughts shall fill; Resigned, when storms of sorrow lower, My soul shall meet Thy will.

My lifted eye, without a tear,

The gathering storm shall see;
My steadfast heart shall know no fear:
That heart shall rest on Thee!

HELEN MARIA WILLIAMS.