THE GLADSOME HOUR.

We will remember the name of the Lord.-Psalm ii. 7.

To tread the velvet turf, whilst yet the dew
Glitters beneath the morning's golden ray;

To gaze upon the sky's deep arch of blue,
And listen to the lark's melodious lay;

O'er thy calm brow to feel the light breeze play,
Whilst each warm pulse with healthful music glows;
When round, above, beneath thee, her display
Of beauty, grace, and sweetness Nature throws;
A sense of gladness o'er the human bosom flows.

But if thy lifted mind may not descry

Aught save the charm of colour, form, or sound, In the glad glory of the azure sky,

In the fair scenes of nature smiling round;

If in thy soul there moves no thought profound, That stirs thee to devotion, and to praise

The blessed God of heaven, who doth abound Thus plenteously in goodness, thou dost raise

In vain thine eyes to heaven, in vain on earth they gaze.

In strong security and peace to dwell

With friends and kindred lov'd and loving near;

To muse in contemplation's hermit cell,

Unbroken thy sweet dreams by toil or care;

Except for other's woe to shed no tear,

Tranquillity companion of thy way,

The music of thy thoughts serene and clear;

If such a lot adorn thy earthly day,

Well may thy grateful heart its cheerful joy dis

play.

But, if such blessed lot in life be thine,
If thus thy steps in flowr'y pathway go;
Yet, thou rememberest not the voice divine,
That o'er thy pathway bade the roses blow;

Or if such memory fails to raise the glow Within thy soul of piety and love;

If thou dost meditate on things below,

Not raise thy secret hopes this world above,

Vain mortal! thou hast fail'd man's noblest bliss to

prove.

THE DARKSOME HOUR.

Why art thou cast down, O my soul! and why art thou disquieted within me? Hope thou in God; for I shall yet praise Him who is the health of my countenance and my God.-Psalm xlii. 11.

And why disquieted within?
Mourn'st thou the dark control,

And heavy bondage chain of sin?

The curst inheritance of thy sad birth,
That boweth thee in misery to earth?

Behold the glorious sky,

All fresh and radiant in the glow

Of evening's majesty!

What doth its beauty shew?

Shews it not forth the mighty power and love

Of thy blest Parent who doth reign above?

Hark! to the lively voice

Of playful innocence and youth; Its very tones rejoice

The heart that earthly hope no more may soothe : What do these mirthful-sounding accents prove? What, but the great Creator's tender love?

See! the gay insects dance

All glad with life and liberty;

Now the bright shoals advance

And now retreat in light and sportive glee : Do not their joy-betokening movements shew, How wide the streams of heavenly mercy flow?

E'en the dark weeping blood

That weighs upon thy aching heart,

Proves thy Creator good,

Who teacheth thee by chastisement to part From thy besetting sin, and seek his face, Lament thy error, and beseech His grace.

Then why, with dark distrust,

And heaviness my soul opprest?

HE, who is good and just,

Hath bade thee hope in HIM, and on HIM rest: Be patient and be still, thy moaning cease,

When His good pleasure wills, thou shalt have

peace.

HAGAR IN THE WILDERNESS.

And she said, Let me not see the death of the child and she sate over against him, and wept.-Gen. xxi. 16.

SHE might not endure to see him die
In the bloom of his youth so piteously;