Shrouded by mist and darkened by storm,
With the countless tints of Autumn warm,
In every hue that can o'er thee fall,
And lovely-lovely thou art in all.

The Rhine-that little word will be

The Rhine-oh! where beneath the sun
Doth that fair river's rival run?

Where dawns the day upon a stream
Can in such changeful beauty shine,
Outstripping fancy's wildest dream,

Like yon green glancing glorious Rhine?

Born where blooms the Alpine rose,

Cradled in the Baden sea,

Forth the infant river flows,

Leaping on in childish glee.
Coming to a riper age,

He crowns his rocky cup with wine,

And makes a gallant pilgrimage

To many a ruin'd tower and shrine.

THE DARKENED CAGE.

Farewell thou Father Rhine! as they
Who live beside thee fondly say,
May thy delicious valley long
Echo the sweet and grateful song
Which ever round the goblet rose,
And well thy minstrel's lay may close.

THE DARKENED CAGE.

He wakens from sleep-that blithesome bird,
The leaves are by gentle breezes stirred;
And he longs to look on the streams and bowers
That oft have solaced his prisoned hours:
But the scene before him is dark and dim,
Morn and its glories are not for him,
A shroud has veiled from his eager sight
The world of verdure, of flowers and light.

Hark! a low melody soft and clear,
Strikes, in his sorrow, his grateful ear,
Perchance he valued not that lay,

Had he heard it amid the smiles of day;
But now he learns for the sound to wait,
And he strives the notes to emulate ;
Daily he masters some mystic tone,

Till the whole sweet strain becomes his own.

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88

THE DARKENED CAGE.

He sings it in full free notes at last-
Now has the time of his darkness past,
The veil is raised—and again he sees
The dancing waters and blossomed trees;
Not in oppression was placed that shade,
It was meant his toilsome task to aid,
And that task accomplished-that purpose won,
His cares are over-his trials done.

Have we not oft like that drooping bird,
Lessons of truth in our sadness heard,

And felt their wisdom, and blessed their worth,
Though we prized them not in our days of mirth.
To those hidden meanings in grief we turn,
Which the worldling deems too hard to learn!
And we rise all human themes above,
Telling alone of our Saviour's love.

Like the bird we may not hope to gain
Immediate ease from our passing pain;
That bird is from future joys debarred,
And earth alone can his toils reward;

But though darkness reign o'er our mortal day,
A scene of light we shall yet survey,

When the shroud is raised from our longing eyes
By the hand of God, in the blissful skies.

MRS. ABDY.

PRAISE AND PRAYER.

89

PRAISE AND PRAYER.

Can words alone the first display?

Prove we the last by bended knee?
The right to praise, the power to pray,
Must both be given us Lord by thee.

Thy Spirit must the heart prepare,
And faith in thy dear Son be known,
Before the voice of praise or prayer
Can rise like incense to thy throne.

Then give the power thy grace imparts,
The love by Jesus shewn of yore;
That praiseless lives and prayerless hearts,
May prove our guilt and shame no more.

B. BARTON.

The desire of being thought wise is often a hinderance to becoming so, for such a one is more solicitous to let the world see what knowledge he hath, than to learn that which he wants.

90

THE VALUE OF A MOMENT.

THE VALUE OF A MOMENT.

At every motion of our breath,

Life trembles on the brink of death;
A taper's flame that upward turns,
While downward to the earth it burns.

A moment usher'd us to birth,
Heirs of the commonwealth of earth ;
Moment by moment, years are past,
And one ere long will be our last.

'Twixt that, long fled, which gave us light,
And that which soon must end in night;
There is a point no eye can see,
Yet on it hangs eternity.

This is that moment-who can tell
Whether it leads to heaven or hell?
This is that moment—as we choose,
Th' immortal soul we save or loose.

Time past and time to come are not,
Time present is our only lot;
O God, henceforth our hearts incline
To seek no other love than thine!

J. MONTGOMERY.