THE RELIGIOUS COTTAGE.

HUNTINGTON.

SEEST thou yon lonely cottage in the grove,
With little garden neatly planned before,
Its roof deep shaded by the elms above,
Moss-grown, and decked with velvet verdure o'er?
Go lift the willing latch; the scene explore,
Sweet peace and love, and joy, thou there shalt find;
For there Religion dwells, whose sacred lore
Leaves the proud wisdom of the world behind,
And pours a heavenly ray on every humble mind.

When the bright morning gilds the eastern skies,
Up springs the peasant from his calm repose,
Forth to his honest toil he cheerful hies,

And tastes the sweets of nature as he goes.

But first, of Sharon's fairest, sweetest rose He breathes the fragrance, and pours forth the praise; Looks to the source whence every blessing flows, Ponders the page which heavenly truth conveys, And to its Author's hand commits his future ways.

Nor yet in solitude his prayers ascend;

His faithful partner and their blooming train, The precious word, with reverent minds attend, The heaven-directed path of life to gain. Their voices mingle in the grateful strain,

The lay of love and joy together sing,

To Him whose bounty clothes the smiling plain, Who spreads the beauties of the blooming spring,

And tunes the warbling throats that make the valleys ring.

BROKEN HEARTED WEEP NO MORE.

ANONYMOUS.

BROKEN-HEARTED, weep no more!

Hear what comfort He hath spoken,
Smoking flax who ne'er hath quenched,
Bruised reed who ne'er hath broken :-
"Ye who wander here below,
Heavy laden as ye go,

Come, with grief, with sin oppressed,
Come to me, and be at rest!”

Lamb of Jesus' blood-bought flock,
Brought again from sin and straying,
Hear the Shepherd's gentle voice,
'Tis a true and faithful saying:-
"Greater love how can there be
Than to yield up life for thee?
Bought with pang, and tear, and sigh,
Turn and live!-why will ye die?"

Broken-hearted, weep no more!
Far from consolation flying;
He who calls hath felt thy wound,
Seen thy weeping, heard thy sighing :--
Bring thy broken heart to me;
Welcome offering it shall be;
Streaming tears and bursting sighs
Mine accepted sacrifice."

EARTH WITH HER THOUSAND VOICES PRAISES GOD.

LONGFELLOW.

WHEN first, in ancient time, from Judah's tongue,
The tuneful anthem filled the morning air,
To sacred hymnings and Elysian song
His music-breathing shell the minstrel woke.
Devotion breathed aloud from every chord;
The voice of praise was heard in every tone,

And prayer, and thanks to Him, th' Eternal One,——
To Him, who, with bright inspiration, touched
The high and gifted lyre of heavenly song,
And warmed the soul with new vitality.
A stirring energy through nature breathed ;-
The voice of adoration from her broke,
Swelling aloud in every breeze, and heard
Long in the sullen waterfall,-what time
Soft Spring or hoary Autumn threw on earth
Its bloom or blighting,-when the Summer smiled,
Or winter o'er the year's sepulchre mourned.
The Deity was there!—a nameless spirit

Moved in the hearts of men to do him homage;
And when the Morning smiled, or Evening, pale,
Hung weeping o'er the melancholy urn,
They came beneath the broad o'er-arching trees,
And in their tremulous shadow worshipped oft,
Where the pale vine clung round their simple altars,
And grey moss mantling hung. Above was heard
The melody of winds, breathed out as the green trees
Bowed to their quivering touch in living beauty,
And birds
sang forth their cheerful hymns. Below,
The bright and widely-wandering rivulet

Struggled and gushed amongst the tangled roots,
That choked its reedy fountain, and dark rocks,
Worn smooth by the constant current. Even there
The listless wave, that stole, with mellow voice,
Where reeds grew rank upon the rushy brink,
And to the wandering wind the green sedge bent,
Sang a sweet song of fixed tranquillity.

Men felt the heavenly influence; and it stole
Like balm into their hearts, till all was peace;
And even the air they breathed, the light they saw,
Became Religion ;-for the ethereal spirit,"
That to soft music wakes the chords of feeling,
And mellows every thing to beauty, moved
With cheering energy within their breasts,
And made all holy there-for all was love.
The morning stars, that sweetly sang together,
The moon, that hung at night in the mid-sky,
Dayspring, and eventide, and all the fair
And beautiful forms of nature, had a voice
Of eloquent worship. Ocean, with its tide,
Swelling and deep, where low the infant storm
Hung on his dun, dark cloud, and heavily beat
The pulses of the sea, sent forth a voice
Of awful adoration to the Spirit,

That, wrapped in darkness, moved upon its face.
And when the bow of evening arched the east,
Or, in the moonlight pale, the gentle wave
Kissed, with a sweet embrace, the sea-worn beach,
And the wild song of winds came o'er the waters,
The mingled melody of wind and wave
Touched like a heavenly anthem on the ear;
For it arose a tuneful hymn of worship.

And have our hearts grown cold? Are there on earth
No pure reflections caught from heavenly love?
Have our mute lips no hymn-our souls no song?

Let him, that, in the summer-day of youth,
Keeps pure the holy fount of youthful feeling,
And him, that, in the night-fall of his years,
Lies down in his last sleep, and shuts in peace
His weary eyes on life's short wayfaring,
Praise Him that rules the destiny of man.

TRUST IN GOD.

BOWRING.

O LET my trembling soul be still,
While darkness veils this mortal eye,
And wait thy wise, thy holy will,
Wrapt yet in fears and mystery;
I cannot, Lord, thy purpose see,
Yet all is well-since ruled by thee.

When mounted on thy clouded car,
Thou sendest thy darker spirits down,
I can discern thy light afar,

Thy light sweet beaming through thy frown;
And should I faint a moment, then
I think of thee-and smile again.

So trusting in thy love, I tread
The narrow path of duty on;

What though some cherished joys are fled!
What though some flattering dreams are gone!

Yet purer, brighter joys remain ;

Why should my spirit then complain?