Both Worlds at once they View. THE seas are quiet when the winds are o’er ;

So calm are we when passions are no more ! For then we know how vain it was to boast Of fleeting things, so certain to be lost. Clouds of affection from our younger eyes Conceal that emptiness which age descries : The soul's dark cottage, battered and decayed, Lets in new lights thro'chinks that time has made. Stronger by weakness, wiser, men become, As they draw near to their eternal home; Leaving the old, both worlds at once they view, That stand upon the threshold of the new.

WALLER.

Beauty of Holiness.
NOT all the pomp and pageantry of worlds
W Reflect such glory on the eye supreme,
As the meek virtues of one holy man:
For ever doth his Angel, from the face
Divine, beatitude and wisdom draw:
And in his prayer, what privilege adored !-
Mounting the heavens and claiming audience

there:
Yes! there, amid a high immortal host
Of seraphs hymning in eternal choir,
A lip of clay its orisons can send,
In temple or in solitude outbreathed.

ROBERT MONTGOMERY.

Babes were His Heralds, and His

Friends the Poor. To conquer and to save, the Son of God 1 Came to His own in great humility, Who wont to ride on cherub-wings abroad, And round Him wrap the mantle of the sky. The mountains bent their necks to form His road; The clouds dropt down their fatness from on high; Beneath His feet the wild waves softly flowed, . And the wind kissed His garment tremblingly. The grave unbolted half his grisly door, (For darkness and the deep had heard His fame, Nor longer might their ancient rule endure ;) The mightiest of mankind stood hush'd and tame: And, trooping on strong wing, His angels came To work His will, and kingdom to secure: No strength He needed save His Father's name; Babes were His heralds, and His friends the poor.

BISHOP HEBER.

Bereavement.
T MARK'D when vernal meads were bright,

And many a primrose smil'd,
I mark'd her, blithe as morning light,

A dimpled three years' child.
A basket on one tender arm

Contain’d her precious store
Of spring-flowers in their freshest charm,

Told proudly o’er and o’er.

The other wound with earnest hold

About her blooming guide,
A maid who scarce twelve years had told:

So walk’d they side by side.
One a bright bud, and one might seem

A sister flower half blown.
Full joyous on their loving dream

The sky of April shone.
The summer months swept by: again

That loving pair I met.
On russet heath, and bowery lane,

Th' autumnal sun had set:

And chill and damp that Sunday eve

Breath'd on the mourners' road That bright-eyed little one to leave

Safe in the saints' abode.
Behind, the guardian sister came,

Her bright brow dim and pale-
O cheer thee, maiden! in His Name,

Who stillid Jairus' wail!
Thou mourn'st to miss the fingers soft

That held by thine so fast,
The fond appealing eye, full oft

Tow'rd thee for refuge cast.
Sweet toils, sweet cares, for ever gone!

No more from stranger's face
Or startling sound, the timid one

Shall hide in thine embrace.

Thy first glad earthly task is o'er,

And dreary seems thy way; But what if nearer than before

She watch thee even to-day?

What if henceforth by Heaven's decree

She leave thee not alone,
But in her turn prove guide to thee

In ways to Angels known ?

O yield thee to her whisperings sweet :

Away with thoughts of gloom! In love the loving spirits greet,

Who wait to bless her tomb.

In loving hope with her unseen

Walk as in hallow'd air,
When foes are strong and trials keen,
Think “What if she be there ?"

ANON.

Brother, thou art gone before us. BROTHER, thou art gone before us,

And thy saintly soul is flown Where tears are wiped from every eye

And sorrow is unknown: From the burthen of the flesh,

And from care and fear released, Where the wicked cease from troubling,

And the weary are at rest.

The toilsome way thou'st travelled o’er,

And borne the heavy load,
But Christ hath taught thy languid feet

To reach his blest abode.
Thou’rt sleeping now, like Lazarus

Upon his father's breast,
Where the wicked cease from troubling,

And the weary are at rest.

Sin can never taint thee now,

Nor doubt thy faith assail,
Nor thy meek trust in Jesus Christ

And the Holy Spirit fail.
And there thou’rt sure to meet the good,

Whom on earth thou lovedst best, Where the wicked cease from troubling,

And the weary are at rest.

“Earth to earth,” and “Dust to dust,"

The solemn priest hath said,
So we lay the turf above thee now,

And we seal thy narrow bed:
But thy spirit, brother, soars away

Among the faithful blest, Where the wicked cease from troubling,

And the weary are at rest.

And when the Lord shall summon us,

Whom thou hast left behind, May we, untainted by the world,

As sure a welcome find;