WHO IS MY NEIGHBOUR?

[Earnest and vigorous.]

THY NEIGHBOUR? It is he whom thou
Hast power to aid and bless,
Whose aching heart, or burning brow
Thy soothing hand may press.

THY NEIGHBOUR? 'Tis the fainting poor,
Whose eye with want is dim,

Whom hunger sends from door to doorGO THOU, AND SUCCOUR HIM.

THY NEIGHBOUR? 'Tis that weary man, Whose years are at their brim,

Bent low with sickness, cares, and painGO THOU, AND COMFORT HIM.

THY NEIGHBOUR? 'Tis the heart bereft Of every earthly gem;

Widow and orphan, helpless left—

GO THOU, AND SHELTER THEM.

Whene'er thou meet'st a human form
Less favoured than thine own,
Remember 'tis thy neighbour worm,
THY BROTHER OR THY SON.

OH! PASS NOT, PASS NOT HEEDLESS BY;
Perhaps thou canst redeem

The breaking heart from misery—
Go, SHARE THY LOT WITH HIM.

THE STREAMLET.

BY M. A. STODART.

[Cheerful and earnest.]

I saw a little streamlet flow

Along a peaceful vale,

A thread of silver, soft and slow,

It wandered down the dale;

JUST TO DO GOOD it seemed to move,

Directed by the hand of love.

The valley smiled in living green;
A tree, which near it gave

From noon-tide heat a friendly screen,
Drank from its limpid wave.

The swallow brushed it with her wing,
And followed its meandering.

But not alone to plant and bird
That little stream was known,
Its gentle murmur far was heard-
A friend's familiar tone!
It glided by the cotter's door,
It blessed the labour of the poor.

And would that I could thus be found,

While travelling life's brief way, An humble friend to all around,

Where'er my footsteps stray;

LIKE THAT PURE STREAM, WITH TRANQUIL BREAST, LIKE IT, STILL BLESSING, AND STILL BLEST.

THE DEW DROP.

[Cheerful and vigorous.]

Sparkling like a diamond bright,
In the morning's golden light,
Nestling where the flowers enfold
In their cups the choicest gold:
While from Nature's secret mine
GEMS APPEAR WITH RAYS LIKE THINE.
Riches all around are spread-
At my feet, where'er I tread :
Choicest books with radiant leaves,
Beaming light which ne'er deceives,
Spread their lessons to my view,
BIDDING ME MY VOWS RENEW.

Here the violet, in its bed,
Rears its lowly, humble head;
And it speaks of modest worth
Better than the pride of earth;
While the gem that makes it bow
Lends fresh beauty to its brow.
And the little grassy blade,
In the hours of solemn shade,
From the gloom has wrought a ray
LOOKING FOR THE COMING DAY;
WHILE WITH UPWARD-TURNING EYE,
FORTH IT LOOKS WITH STARS TO VIE.

Fit art thou to deck the flowers
In the fields and chosen bowers,
Where the lovely hues of heaven
In their rich array are given;

Binding, while they shall endure,
BEAUTY WITH THE BRIGHT AND PURE.

THUS IN LIFE'S OFT CHANGING FIELD,
Night-born dews their BRIGHTNESS YIELD ;
Thus in humble life is seen

MATCHLESS WORTH OF RAY SERENE :
THUS SHALL VIRTUE FIND ITS GEM-
TRUTH-THE PUREST DIADEM.

MOONRISE.

By W. B. C. PEABODY.

[Cheerful and vigorous.]

The moon is up! how calm and slow
She wheels above the hill !
The weary winds forget to blow,
And all the world lies still.

The way-worn travellers, with delight,
THE RISING BRIGHTNESS SEE,
Revealing all the paths and plains
And gilding every tree.

It glistens where the hurrying stream
Its little ripple leaves;
It falls upon the forest shade,

And sparkles on the leaves.

So once, on Judah's evening hills,
The heav'nly lustre spread;

THE GOSPEL SOUNDED FROM THE BLAZE,
And shepherds gaz'd with dread.

And still that light upon the world
Its guiding splendour throws;
Bright in the opening hours of life,
BUT BRIGHTER AT THE CLOSE.

The waning moon, in time, shall fail
To walk the midnight skies;

BUT GOD HATH KINDLED THIS BRIGHT LIGHT
WITH FIRE THAT NEVER DIES.

THE DEW-DROP AND THE STREAM.*
[Cheerful and with spirit.]

The banks with golden flowers were crowned,
And melody was heard around—

When, near the scene, a dew-drop shed

Its lustre on a violet's head,

And trembling to the breeze it hung!
The streamlet, as it rolled along,
The beauty of the morn confessed,
And thus the sparkling pearl addressed:
"Sure, little drop, rejoice we may,
For all is beautiful and gay;
Creation wears her emerald dress,
And smiles in all her loveliness:
And with delight and pride I see
That little flower bedewed by thee-
Thy lustre with a gem might vie,
While trembling in its purple eye.'

"Ay, you may well rejoice, 'tis true,"
Replied the radiant drop of dew;
"You will, no doubt, as on you move,
To flocks and herds a blessing prove.
But when the sun ascends on high
Its beam will draw me towards the sky;
And I must own my little power-

I've but refreshed a humble flower."

"HOLD!" cried the stream, "nor thus repine-
For well 'tis known a power divine,
Subservient to His will supreme,

Has made the dew-drop and the stream.
Though small thou art (I that allow),
No mark of Heaven's contempt art thou-
Thou hast refreshed a humble flower,
And done according to thy power.'

All things that are, both great and small,
One glorious Author formed them all;
This thought may all repinings quell-

WHAT SERVES HIS PURPOSE, SERVES HIM WELL.

The above striking verses are taken from a newspaper, and said to be the production of a servant girl from Devonshire.

E

"WHITER THAN SNOW."
BY DAVID DURING.

O gentle snow, descending
Upon the earth so still,
Transfiguring with thy whiteness
The street, the field, the hill!
O robe of heavenly texture !
O beauty from on high !
Caught up from earth unspotted,
And woven in the sky!

The bustling, busy city,

When hushed in peaceful night, Is clothed in softest raiment Of pure, unsullied white. On every roof it gathers,

On hovel and on hall; Foul filth and squalor hiding, And beautifying all.

Out in the open country,

When crops are gathered home, The snow extends a garment Over the stiffening loam. The summer's work is ended, The land refreshment seeks, And, for the sabbath season; Waits thro' the winter weeks. The desolate old mountains, With solitude begirt, Receive a priestly mantle

With flowing length of skirt.
Their snowy heads at sundown,
Are crowned with clearest light,
Telling to toil and trouble
Of glory infinite.

Thou'rt trampled in the city;
Art melted from the plain;

Only on peaks uplifted

To heaven thou dost remain. O FULNESS OF REDEMPTION ! O fallen race of men ! Sinners one year forgiven Must be forgiven again. O gentle snow, descending Upon the earth so still, Transfiguring with thy whiteness

The street, the field, the hill!