Night is the time to watch
On ocean's dark expanse,
To hail the Pleiades, or catch

The full Moon's earliest glance,
That bring into the home-sick mind
All we have loved and left behind.

Night is the time for care;

Brooding on hours mis-spent, To see the spectre of Despair Come to our lonely tent;

Like Brutus, 'midst his slumbering host, Startled by Cæsar's stalwart ghost.

Night is the time to muse;

Then from the eye the soul

Takes flight, and with expanding views,

Beyond the starry pole,

Descries, athwart the abyss of night,

The dawn of uncreated light.

Night is the time to pray;

Our Saviour oft withdrew To desert mountains far away;

So will his followers too,

Steal from the throng to haunts untrod, And hold communion there with God.

Night is the time for death ;

When all around is peace,

Calmly to yield the weary breath,
From sin and suffering cease;

Think of Heaven's bliss-and give the sign
To parting friends:-such death be mine!

LOOKING UPWARDS IN A STORM.

Cowper.

God of my life, to thee I call,
Afflicted at thy feet I fall;

When the great water-floods prevail,
Leave not my trembling heart to fail!

Friend of the friendless and the faint!
Where should I lodge my deep complaint?
Where but with thee, whose open door
Invites the helpless and the poor?

Did ever mourner plead with thee,
And thou refuse that mourner's plea ?
Does not that word still fixed remain,
That none shall seek thy face in vain ?

That were a grief I could not bear,
Didst thou not hear and answer prayer;
But a prayer-hearing, answering God,
Supports me under every load.

Fair is the lot that's cast for me;
I have an Advocate with thee;
They, whom the world caresses most,
Have no such privilege to boast.

Poor though I am, despis'd, forgot,
Yet God, my God, forgets me not;
And he is safe, and must succeed,
For whom the Lord vouchsafes to plead.

Fight is the time to watch
On ocean's dark expanse,
To hail the Pleiades, or catch
The full Moon's earliest glance,
That bring into the home-sick mind
All we have loved and left behind.

Night is the time for care;
Brooding on hours mis-spent,
To see the spectre of Despair
Come to our lonely tent;

Like Brutus, 'midst his slumbering host,
Startled by Caesar's stalwart ghost.

Night is the time to muse;

Then from the eye the soul

Takes flight, and with expanding views,
Beyond the starry pole,

Descries, athwart the abyss of night,
The dawn of uncreated light.

Night is the time to pray;
Our Saviour oft withdrew
To desert mountains far away;
So will his followers too,

Steal from the throng to haunts untre"
And hold common there with God.

Night is the theath;

Vic

A

A MOTHER'S LOVE.

Bayley.

THE lover's love may prove sincere,
The kindred heart beat true,
The friend's affection be most dear,
And most devoted too.

But, O the love a mother feels
What language shall express-
The genial influence it reveals
What other breast possess?

'Tis centred in the lisping babe-
Grows with the blooming child;
And goes, forsooth, along with youth,
Nor slights in manhood wild.
'Tis fixed, and fixed for ever! Yes,
When hopes and joys have gone,
That still remains-nor waneth less-
And thus adoreth on!

The world may warp the friend's esteem,

The kindred spirit mar,

But ne'er may dull its vital beam,

Nor yet its power outbar.

It hath no change—no biassed turn—

No ranging wish to flee;

But like the Polar star doth burn

Unmoved, O man! for thee.