Fear not the want of outward good;
He will for his provide,

Grant them supplies of daily food,

And all they need beside.

Fear not that he will e'er forsake,
Or leave his work undone;
He's faithful to his promises,
And faithful to his Son.

Fear not the terrors of the grave,
Or death's tremendous sting;
He will from endless wrath preserve-
To endless glory bring.

You, in his wisdom, power, and grace
May confidently trust;

His wisdom guides, his power protects,
His grace rewards the just.

THE BURIAL OF MOSES.

From an American Paper.

"And he buried him in a valley in the land of Moab, over against Beth-peor; but no man knoweth of his sepulchre unto this day." DEUT. XXXiv. 6.

By Nebo's lonely mountain,

On this side Jordan's wave,
In a vale in the land of Moab
There lies a lonely grave.

And no man dug that sepulchre,

And no man saw it e'er,

For the angel of God upturned the sod, And laid the dead man there.

That was the grandest funeral
That ever passed on earth;
But no man heard the tramping,
Or saw the train go forth.
Noiselessly as the day-light

Comes when the night is done,

And the crimson streak on ocean's cheek Grows into the great sun;

Noiselessly as the spring time

Her crown of verdure weaves, And all the trees on all the hills Open their thousand leaves;

So without sound of music,

Or voice of them that wept,

Silently down from the mountain's crown The great procession swept.

Perchance the bald old eagle,
On grey Beth-peor's height,
Out of his rocky eyrie

Looked on the wondrous sight.
Perchance the lion stalking,

Still shuns that hallowed spot;

For beast and bird have seen and heard That which man knoweth not.

Whene'er the warrior dieth,

His comrades in the war,

With arms reversed and muffled drum,
Follow the funeral car.

They show the banners taken,

They tell his battles won,

And after him lead his masterless steed, While peals the minute gun.

Amid the noblest of the land
Men lay the bard to rest;
And give the sage an honoured place
With costly marble drest.

In the great minster-transept,
Where lights like glories fall,

And the choir sings and the organ rings
Along th' emblazoned wall.

This was the bravest warrior
That ever buckled sword;

This the most gifted poet

That ever breathed a word; And never earth's philosopher Traced with his golden pen

On the deathless page truths half so sage As he wrote down for men.

And had he not high honour?
The hill-side for his pall,

To lie in state while angels wait
With stars for tapers tall.

And the dark rock pines like tossing plumes

Over his bier to wave,

And God's own hand in that lonely land

To lay him in the grave.

In that deep grave without a name,
Whence his uncoffined clay

Shall break again, most wondrous thought,
Before the judgment day;

And stand with glory wrapped around

On the hills he never trod,

And speak of the strife that won our life
With th' Incarnate Son of God.

Oh, lonely tomb in Moab's land,
Oh, dark Beth-peor's hill,

Speak to these curious hearts of ours,

And teach them to be still.

God has his mysteries of grace,
Ways that we cannot tell;

He hides them deep like the secret sleep
Of him he loved so well.

LABOUR AND REST.

Two hands upon the breast, and labour is past."

"Two hands upon the breast,

And labour's done:

RUSSIAN PROVERB.

Two pale feet crossed in rest-
The race is won:

Two eyes with coin-weights shut,
And all tears cease;

Two lips where grief is mute,
And wrath at peace."

So pray we oftentimes, mourning our lot:
God in his kindness answereth not.

"Two hands to work addrest

Aye for his praise :

Two feet that never rest,

Walking his ways:

Two eyes that look above

Still, through all tears:

Two lips that breathe but love,
Never more fears."

So cry we afterwards, low at our knees:
Pardon those erring prayers! Father, hear these!

"LO, WE HAVE LEFT ALL, AND HAVE

FOLLOWED THEE."

Lyte.

JESUS, I my cross have taken,

All to leave and follow thee;

Destitute, despised, forsaken,

Thou, from hence, my all shalt be.

Perish every fond ambition,

All I've sought, and hoped, and known:

Yet how rich is my condition!

God and heaven are still mine own.