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We see thy hand, ports us;

We hear thy voice, -it counsels and it courts us;

And then we turn away,—and still thy kindness

Forgives our blindness.

still thy rain descends, thy sun is glowing,

JOHN WILSON.

[1785-1854.]

THE EVENING CLOUD.

A CLOUD lay cradled near the setting sun, A gleam of crimson tinged its braided

snow:

Long had I watched the glory moving on

O'er the still radiance of the lake below.

Tranquil its spirit seemed, and floated

slow!

Even in its very motion there was rest; While every breath of eve that chanced to blow

Wafted the traveller to the beauteous west. Emblem, methought, of the departed soul, To whose white robe the gleam of bliss is given;

And by the breath of mercy made to roll Right onwards to the golden gates of heaven,

Where to the eye of faith it peaceful lies, And tells to man his glorious destinies.

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And

Fruits

And, as

it leads us, it sup

ripen round, flowers are beneath us blowing,

if man were some deserving crea

ture,

Joy covers nature.

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