A BENEDICTION FOR A BABY.

WHAT blessing shall I ask for thee,

In the sweet dawn of infancy?

— That, which our Saviour, at his birth, Brought down with Him from heaven to earth.

What next, in childhood's April years

Of sunbeam-smiles and rainbow-tears?

That, which in Him all eyes might trace,

To grow in wisdom and in grace.

What in the wayward path of youth,

Where falsehood walks abroad as truth?

-By that good spirit to be led,

What, in temptation's wilderness,

When wants assail, and fears oppress?

What, in the labour, pain, and strife,

Combats and cares of daily life?

In his cross-bearing steps to tread,

Who had not where to lay his head.

What, in the agony of heart,

When foes rush in, and friends depart?

To pray like Him, the Holy One,

"Father, thy will, not mine, be done."

What, in the bitterness of death,

When the last sigh cuts the last breath?

-Like Him your spirit to commend,

And up to paradise ascend.

What in the grave, and in that hour, When even the grave shall lose its power? -Like Him, your rest awhile to take;

Then at the trumpet's sound awake,

Him as He is in heaven to see,

And as He is, yourself to be.

N

"OCCUPY TILL I COME."

LUKE, Xix. 13.

ON

THE DEATH

OF

THE LATE JOSEPH BUTTERWORTH, ESQ.

AN EXEMPLARY CHRISTIAN, PATRIOT,

AND PHILANTHROPIST.

"He was a burning and a shining light:"

And is he now eclipsed in hopeless night?

No; faith beholds him near the sapphire throne,

Shining more bright than e'er on earth he shone; While, where created splendour all looks dim, Heaven's host are glorifying God in him.

If faith's enraptured vision now be true,

And things invisible stand forth to view,

Though eye to eye the' unbodied soul can see,
Self-lost amidst unclouded Deity,

He chooses, rather than a seraph's seat,
The lowest place at his Redeemer's feet;

And, with the' eternal weight of glory prest,
Turns even in paradise to Christ for rest.

Come we who once beheld his noontide blaze,

And hid before him our diminish'd rays;

Since his translation to a higher sphere,

We may, we must by our own light appear;

When sun and moon their greater beams resign,

The stars come out; they cannot choose but shine;

With force like his all eyes we cannot strike,
We may not equal him, but may be like:

Nor let the meanest think his lamp too dim,

In a dark world the Lord hath need of him;