Who stayedft the lightnings of thy holy wrath
With pitying love, to spare the bruised reed, —
Thy will to save, thy ftrength to conquer, flowed
From seas of tenderness and might in God.

Thy living word sprang from the heart of man
Eternal word of love and liberty:

Fearless thou gav'ft it to the winds again;

'T was Manhood's native tongue, and could not die. To thy dear brotherhood life's pulses leap;

And wakening ages answer, deep to deep.

Rev. S. Johnson.

AFFLICTION.

BLESSED ARE THEY THAT MOURN,

ROM lips divine, like healing balm

FRO

To hearts oppressed and torn,

The heavenly consolation fell,
"Bleffed are they that mourn."

Unto the hopes by sorrow crushed
A noble faith succeeds;

And life, by trials furrowed, bears

The fruit of loving deeds.

How rich, how sweet, how full of strength,

Our human spirits are,

Baptized into the sanctities

Of suffering and of prayer!

Yes, heavenly wisdom, love divine,
Breathed through the lips which said,

"O bleffed are the hearts that mourn;
They fhall be comforted."

I

THE GUIDING HAND.

"Caft thy burden upon the Lord.". PSALM lv. 22.

S this the way, my Father? 'T is, my child. Thou must pass through this tangled, dreary wild,

If thou wouldst reach the city, undefiled,

Thy peaceful home above.

But enemies are round! Yes, child, I know
That where thou least expecteft thou 'lt find a foe;
But victor thou fhalt prove o'er all below,

Only seek ftrength above.

My Father, it is dark!

Child, take my hand,

Cling close to me; I'll lead thee through the land; Truft my all-seeing care; so fhalt thou ftand

'Midft glory bright above.

My footsteps seem to flide! Child, only raise
Thine eye to me, then in these flippery ways
I will hold up thy goings; thou shalt praise

Me for each fstep above.

Child, lean thy head my love that spread hope on, till I have said,

O Father, I am weary!
Upon my breast. It was
Thy rugged path;

"Reft, reft for aye, above."

A FIRST SORROW.

RISE! this day shall shine,

A Forevermore,

To thee a star divine,

On Time's dark fhore.

Till now thy soul has been
All glad and gay:

Bid it awake, and look
At grief to-day!

No fhade has come between
Thee and the sun;

Like some long childish dream
Thy life has run:

But now the stream has reached A dark, deep sea,

And Sorrow, dim and crowned, Is waiting thee.

Each of God's soldiers bears

A sword divine:

Stretch out thy trembling hands To-day for thine!