THE HOME OF THE SOUL. F. 5. Keq. Oн, where shall the soul find relief from its woes, Can earth's highest summit or deepest hid vale There's no home on earth, the soul has no home! Shall it leave the low earth, and soar to the sky, In the bright realms of bliss shall a dwelling be given There's a home in high heaven, the soul has a home. Oh! holy and sweet its rest shall be there ; The bosom of God is the home of the soul! THE HOUR OF PRAYER. Cymns for the Week. My God, is any hour so sweet, From blush of morn to evening star, Blest be that tranquil hour of morn, And blest that hour of solemn eve, When on the wings of prayer upborneThe world I leave! For then a day-spring shines on me, Then is my strength by thee renew'd; With hopes of heav'n. Words cannot tell what blest relief, Hush'd is each doubt-gone every fear- Is wiped away! Oh! till I reach yon peaceful shore, THE CONVENIENT SEASON. Mrs. Sigourney. ALONE he sat, and wept.-That very night Conscience And sin allur'd. The struggle shook him sore. --But there was war within him, and he sigh'd, With kindling brow he trod Manhood's vigorous prime Swell'd to his climax, and his busy days When lo!-a message from the Crucified, “Look unto me, and live." But care had twin'd -Twice warn'd he ponder'd:-then impatient spake ·God spake again, when Age had shed its snows Upon his temples, and his weary hand Shrank from gold-gathering. But the rigid chain Of habit bound him, and he still implor'd A more convenient season. "See-my step Is firm and free, my unquench'd eye delights For long eternity." Disease came on, And reason fled. The maniac strove with death, DEATH OF AN INFANT. Mrs. Sigoarneq. DEATH found strange beauty on that cherub brow, And dash'd it out. There was a tint of rose On cheek and lip;-he touch'd the veins with ice, And the rose faded. Forth from those blue eyes There spake a wistful tenderness—a doubt Whether to grieve or sleep, which innocence Alone can wear. With ruthless haste he bound The silken fringes of their curtaining lids For ever. There had been a murmuring sound, With which the babe would claim its mother's ear, Charming her even to tears. The spoiler set His seal of silence. But there beam'd a smile So fix'd and holy from that marble browDeath gazed, and left it there:-he dared not steal The signet-ring of Heaven. SOLICITUDE TRANSFERRED. AND dost thou care for me, O Lord! Can thy neglected love afford |