MRS. SIMPSON.

MRS. SIMPSON, nee JANE CROSS BELL, is the daughter of James Bell, Esq., advocate, and is a native of Glasgow. At an early period she contributed verses to The Edinburgh Literary Journal, edited by her brother, Henry Glassford Bell, Esq. She assumed the literary nom de plume of Gertrude; and, under this designation, she reproduced her poetical contributions in "April Hours," a small 12mo, which appeared in 1838. She had previously published, in 1836, a small volume of tales and sketches, entitled "The Piety of Daily Life." In 1848, she published "Woman's History." Her latest work, "Linda; or, Beauty and Genius;" appeared in 1859. The following hymn has been ascribed to different authors. The first, second, and fourth stanzas of the hymn appeared in "April Hours," in 1838. The entire composition is now printed from a copy kindly supplied by the accomplished authoress. "Gertrude" has been for many years married to her cousin, Mr. J. B. Simpson, of Glasgow.

PRAYER.

Go when the morning shineth,
Go when the noon is bright;

Go when the eve declineth,
Go in the hush of night;
Go with pure mind and feeling,
Fling earthly thought away,
And, in thy chamber kneeling,
Do thou in secret pray.

Remember all who love thee,

All who are loved by thee;
Pray, too, for those that hate thee,
If any such there be.

Then for thyself, in meekness,
A blessing humbly claim ;
And link, with each petition,
The great Redeemer's name.

Or if 'tis e'er denied thee

In solitude to pray,

Should holy thoughts come o'er thee,
When friends are round thy way;

Even then the silent breathing

Of thy spirit raised above,
May reach His throne of glory,

Who is mercy, truth, and love!

O! not a joy or blessing

With this can we compare,
The power that He hath given us
To pour our hearts in prayer!
Whene'er thou pin'st in sadness,
Before His footstool fall,
And remember, in thy gladness,
His grace who gave thee all.

THE LESSON.

(Contributed.)

I HAD a lesson to teach them,

The children that God had given, From a Book most high and holy, Whose theme is the love of Heaven.

But some of these baby-blossoms
Were laid by the reaper low,
Ere yet they could spell the letters
I wish'd them so much to know.

And one, on whose soul had fallen
The lesson with deepest power,
Went home to the sainted glory

In the dawn of his manhood's hour.

Ah! then, as the waves of sorrow
Went over my drooping head,
My pupils became my teachers,

The living was taught by the dead!

And the more their memory held me, The children I ne'er could see; The more we rehearsed that lesson The children yet left with me.

And still, when the Book is opened
Where wisdom and peace are found,

We fancy our loved ones bending
To meet us on holy ground.

And the lesson so pure and tender,
We study with silent prayer,
Sinks down to our inmost spirits,

With these angels hovering there!

And we long to fold our pinions,
By sin and by sorrow press'd,
'Neath the tree by the crystal river,
The city of endless rest!

Till then, with a zeal untiring,
We'll con the lesson of love;
The children on earth yet dwelling,
And the children moored above.

JAMES G. SMALL.

THE REV. JAMES G. SMALL is a native of Edinburgh. Having attended the university of his native city, he there attained distinction as a successful competitor for various prize poems. In 1843, he published a volume of poems, entitled "The Highlands, etc." This work has passed through several editions. Two small poetical works from his pen have likewise been well received. In 1847, Mr. Small was ordained pastor of the Free Church, Bervie, Kincardineshire.

VOICES FROM HEAVEN.

WHAT strains of compassion are heard from above,
Calling sinners to flee to the bosom of Love!

'Tis the voice of the Saviour who speaks from on high-
"Turn, turn, ye poor wanderers, O why will ye die?
Turn, turn, ere ye perish; for judgment is nigh.”

What a sweet invitation is heard from above!

Calling children to fly to the bosom of Love!

'Tis the voice of the Shepherd! how kind is its tone-
"Come, ye young ones, to me, ere life's spring-time be flown;
I will take you, and bless you, and make you mine own.”

What accents of comfort are heard from above, Calling mourners to rest on the bosom of Love! 'Tis the voice of our tender and faithful High Priest"Come to me, ye who labour, with sorrows oppress'd; Come, and, learning of me, your tired soul shall find rest.'

What songs of rejoicing are rising above

From the blest who repose on the bosom of Love! 'Tis the voice of the ransom'd; how joyful the strain"Glory, blessing, and power to the Lamb that was slain, For He suffered for us, and with Him we shall reign."

"REJOICE EVERMORE."

CHILD of God and heir of glory,
Wherefore should thy heart despond?
Set the joys of heaven before thee;
Pierce the veil, and look beyond.

Brood not o'er this scene of sorrow,
Think of all the hopes reveal'd ;

From the future learn to borrow
What the present cannot yield.

Let thy heart be ever cheerful,
So thy soul shall still be strong;
To the timid and the fearful,

Ne'er does victory belong.

What though clouds above thee hover !
They shall soon be chased away;

And, dispersing, will discover

All the glory of the day.

What though now the path thou treadest
Be with grieving thorns beset !
All the ills which here thou dreadest

Yonder thou shalt soon forget.

CHARITIE LEES SMITH.

CHARITIE LEES SMITH is the daughter of the Rev. Sidney Smith, D.D., rector of Aghalurcher, county Fermanagh, Ireland; she was born at Bloomfield, Merrion, in the county of Dublin. Miss Smith has composed a number of sacred lyrics; she has contributed to several religious serials. Her hymn entitled "Heavenly Anticipations" is a favourite in Sunday. schools.

HEAVENLY ANTICIPATIONS.

OH for the robes of whiteness !
Oh for the tearless eyes!
Oh for the glorious brightness
Of the unclouded skies!

Oh for the no more weeping
Within the land of love,
The endless joy of keeping
The bridal feast above!

Oh for the bliss of dying,
My risen Lord to meet!
Oh for the rest of lying
For ever at His feet!

Oh for the hour of seeing
My Saviour face to face,

The hope of ever being

In that sweet meeting-place!

Jesus, Thou King of glory,

I soon shall dwell with Thee;

I soon shall sing the story

Of Thy great love to me.

Meanwhile my thoughts shall enter,
E'en now, before Thy throne,
That all my love may centre
On Thee, and Thee alone.