The exulting tone forsook his voice, Again he turned-and she hid her tears- But her help by day, and at eve her smile, At last the free air fanned his cheek,- The bowl was broken at the fount― In vain he hoped on earth to preach The young, the beautiful, he lies Within the coffin lead; The green grass springs upon his breast, The stone is at his head. STANZAS TO A LADY ON HER BIRTH-DAY, WITH A BASKET OF WAX FLOWERS. E. K. IF Spring had raised her joyous voice * Professor Anstice died at Torquay, an early victim to the extreme application to study of an ardent mind; but was removed to the burial place of his fathers, and not interred at Tor Mohun, as many visiters supposed.-ED. And bade our English fields rejoice Soon had I sought some green retreat, That little flower whose soft blue eyes With the pale lily's stainless hue, And wall-flowers too, those faithful friends, Who watch the captive's tower, While every tenant zephyr sends These first spring flowers! to every breast It is not childhood loves them best, 'Mid all its revelry ;- But when the heart is weary grown Vain thoughts of spring! - for thee I twine Whose buds alike through shade and shine And tell of hours whose joy had birth THE PILGRIM'S SONG. LYTE. "There remaineth a rest to the people of God."-Heb. iv. 9. My rest is in heaven; my rest is not here; Then why should I murmur when trials are near? 'Be hushed, my dark spirit!" the worst that can come But shortens the journey, and hastens thee home. It is not for me to be seeking my bliss And building my hopes in a region like this: The thorn and the thistle around me may grow; I would not lie down upon roses below: I ask not my portion, I seek not a rest, Afflictions may damp me, they cannot destroy; Ꮓ And the bitterest tears, if He smile but on them, A scrip on my back, and a staff in my hand, ETERNAL REST. BARDIN. PERHAPS the whole compass of our language does not contain a word more productive of sweet and soothing associations than that of Rest! In its most ordinary signification, it brings before my mind a weary traveller, at length arrived at the termination of his toilsome journey. I think of a shipwrecked sailor, escaped from the waves, and, in the consciousness of safety, sinking into a profound and tranquil sleep. I think of the placid repose of infancy. But give me the wider range of Revelation, and say what language, except that which Scripture itself has used, shall express the ideas which are implied in it! The shipwrecked man quickly forgets the perils of the sea, and embarks again upon its treacherous surface—the traveller soon again prepares himself for fresh fatigues-the toils of life, its corrupt pursuits, its anxious cares, will quickly leave their furrows upon the infant's brow-but far different the rest which remaineth to the people of God. When this corruptible shall put on incorruptionwhen this mortal shall put on immortality, the faithful enter into that state, where there shall be no more death, neither sorrow, nor crying, nor any more pain; where they shall neither hunger nor thirst any more--where those who walked together in Christian fellowship until death divided them, shall meet again, and dwell for ever in sweet communion with each other and with God. It is a state where all that is dark and mysterious shall be cleared up, and the soul shall behold, with unclouded vision, the celestial glories of the Sun of Righteousness, where all shall know, even as they are known. It is the heavenly Jerusalem, where those who have overcome with Christ, shall cast their crowns of glory before the Lamb, who hath redeemed them with his own blood, and worship him that liveth for ever and ever. Comforted by this assurance, I can bow in resignation to the will of God, and praise his mercy, even though he strips me of friends, and leaves me alone in this world's wilderness. The heart will mourn at each bereavement, but why should the Christian continue to grieve for the departed? "I heard a |