THE FUTURE.

WHAT may be my future lot,
Well I know, concerns me not;
This should set my heart at rest,-
What Thy will ordains is best.

SOLITUDE.

IT is not that my lot is low
That bids this silent tear to flow;
It is not grief that bids me moan,
It is that I am all alone.

In woods and glens I love to roam,
When the tired hedger hies him home
Or by the woodland pool to rest,
When pale the star looks on its breast.

Yet, when the silent evening sighs,
With hallowed airs and symphonies,
My spirit takes another tone,
And sighs that it is all alone.

The autumn leaf is sear and dead,
It floats upon the water's bed;
I would not be a leaf, to die
Without recording sorrow's sigh.

;

The woods and winds, with sudden wail,
Tell all the same unvaried tale;

I have none to smile when I am free,
And when I sigh, to sigh with me.

Yet in my dreams a form I view,
That thinks on me, and loves me too;
I start, and when the vision's flown,
I weep that I am all alone.

KIRKE WHITE.

NEAR THEe, still nEAR THEE!

NEAR thee, still near thee!-o'er thy pathway gliding,
Unseen I pass thee with the wind's low sigh;
Life's veil enfolds thee still, our eyes dividing,
Yet viewless love floats round thee silently!
Not midst the festal throng,

In halls of mirth and song,

But when thy thoughts are deepest,
When holy tears thou weepest,

Know then that love is nigh,

When the night's whisper o'er thy harp-strings creeping,
Or the sea-music on the sounding shore,
Or breezy anthems through the forest sweeping,
Shall move thy trembling spirit to adore;
When every thought and prayer

We loved to breath and share,

On thy full heart returning,

Shall wake its voiceless yearning;

Then feel me near once more!

Near thee, still near thee!-trust thy soul's deep dreaming!

Oh! love is not an earthly rose, to die!

Even when I soar where fiery stars are beaming,

Thine image wanders with me through the sky.

The fields of air are free,
Yet lonely, wanting thee;
But when thy chains are falling,
When heaven its own is calling,

Know then, thy guide is nigh!

MRS HEMANS.

CALM ME, MY GOD!

CALM me, my God, and keep me calm,
While these hot breezes blow;
Be like the night-dew's cooling balm
Upon earth's fevered brow.

Calm me, my God, and keep me calm,
Soft resting on Thy breast,

Soothe me with holy hymn and psalm,
And bid my spirit rest.

Calm me, my God, and keep me calm,

Let thine outstretched wing, Be like the shade of Elim's palm Beside her desert-spring.

Yes, keep me calm, though loud and rude

The sounds my ear that greet;

Calm in the closet's solitude,

Calm in the bustling street;

Calm in the hour of buoyant health,

Calm in my hour of pain; Calm in my poverty or wealth,

Calm in my loss or gain.

Calm in the sufferance of wrong,

Like Him who bore my shame ;

Calm 'mid the threatening, taunting throng
Who hate Thy holy Name.

Calm when the great world's news with power

My listening spirit stir ;

Let not the tidings of an hour

E'er find too fond an ear.

Calm as the ray of sun or star,
Which storms assail in vain,

Moving unruffled through earth's war

The eternal calm to gain!

BONAR.

SAFE IN THE ARMS OF JESUS.

SAFE in the arms of Jesus,

Safe on His gentle breast ;
There, by His love o'ershaded,
Sweetly my soul shall rest.
Hark! 'tis the voice of angels

Borne in a song to me,

Over the fields of glory,
Over the jasper sea.

Safe in the arms of Jesus,

Safe from corroding care;
Safe from the world's temptations,
Sin cannot harm me there;
Free from the blight of sorrow,
Free from my doubts and fears;

Only a few more trials,

Only a few more tears.

Jesus, my heart's dear refuge,
Jesus has died for me ;
Firm on the Rock of Ages
Ever my trust shall be.
Here let me wait with patience,
Wait till the night is o'er ;
Wait till I see the morning

Break on the golden shore.

LONGING FOR HOME.
A SONG of a boat ;-

There was once a boat on a billow;

Lightly she rocked to her port remote,

Sacred Songs.

And the foam was white in her wake like snow, And her frail mast bowed when the breeze would

blow,

And bent like a wand of willow.

I shaded mine eyes one day when a boat

Went curtseying over the billow;

I marked her course, till, a dancing motę,
She faded out on the moonlit foam,

And I stayed behind in the dear-loved home,
And my thoughts all day were about the boat,
And my dreams upon the pillow.

I pray you hear my song of a boat,
For it is but short:-

My boat you shall find none fairer afloat
In river or port.

Long I looked out for the lad she bore
On the open desolate sea,

And I think he sailed to the heavenly shore,
For he came not back to me.