2 Send back the wand'rer to the Saviour's fold, That were an action worthy of a saint; But not in malice let the crime be told, Nor publish to the world the evil taint. 3 The Saviour suffers when his children slide; Then is his holy name by men blasphem'd ! And he afresh is mock'd and crucified, Even by those his bitter death redeem'd. 4 Rebuke the sin, but yet in love rebuke; Feel as one member in another's pain; Win back the soul that his fair path forsook, And mighty and eternal is thy gain! EDMESTON. 66 ALL FLESH IS GRASS. 1 All flesh is grass, the royal preacher cries, Cut down and wither'd ere it sees the noon; Man like a drooping flow'r in summer dies, He dies as surely, and almost as soon. 2 Though in life's morn the bounding pulse beat high, And the gay heart laugh at the distant sight, Though beauty's glance adorn the sparkling eye, And the soft cheek be crimson'd with delight, 3 Not youth, nor strength, nor beauty's moving pow'r, Nor the light heart, with sportive pleasure gay, Not blooming health can charm away that hour, Nor bribe the king of terrors to delay. 4 What though his hand awhile defer the blow, And active manhood shun the fatal stroke, Can feeble age oppose the conqu'ring foe, With strength by years and sorrow doubly broke? 5 No spring the well of life can then afford, The golden bowl in broken fragments lies, From the still wheel is loos'd the silver cord, The falling pitcher sinks, no more to rise. 6 E'en music's cheerful daughters are brought low, No more to charm the senses with de light; Weaken'd with age, the tott'ring pillars bow, And the dim eye is quench'd in endless night. טר 7 Thus circling years shall bend us to the dust, And nature's pow'rs, in turn, all fade away: But death cannot destroy their souls who trust In that sure word that never shall decay. 8 The sov'reign pow'r, by whose Almighty voice Our mortal flesh and heart are doom'd In soften'd accents bids his saints rejoice, vail. 9 His mighty word for ever shall endure, Though fainting nature feel the dying strife: Trusting in him, our hope must be secure, life. N. H. ODE Written for the first Anniversary of the American The angel-ranks that gird the throne Of Majesty, stand not alone; To infant choirs those harps belong, Gabriel ne'er touched a sweeter string, O, whence those cherub minstrels,—say,- In scenes where thoughtless worldlings dwell, Their lot was cast, whose lyres now swell The thrilling melody above, Thine be the praise, O God of love! THE SUNDAY SCHOOL! Earth has no name 1 Shall be revealed when worlds have fled: Of all our toil-"THY KINGDOM COME!" TAPPAN. A BROTHER IN ADVERSITY. 1 When ev'ry scene, this side the grave, 2 When father, mother, all are gone,- 3 When frowns an angry world unkind, 4 And who is this whom still we find, 5 Jesus! my Lord! ah who can trace 6 Ye trav'llers in this wilderness, ANON. PROVIDENCE. 1 God moves in a mysterious way, 2 Deep in unfathomable mines He treasures up his bright designs 3 Ye fearful saints, fresh courage take, |