hues

child,

Returned to her heart at last. He wakes at the vessel's sudden roll

And the rush of waters is in his soul.

Astounded, the reeling deck he paces, 'Mid hurrying forms and ghastly faces;

The whole ship's crew are there! Wailing around and overhead, Brave spirits stupefied or dead,

And madness and despair.

Now is the ocean's bosom bare,
Unbroken as the floating air;
The ship hath melted quite away,
Like a struggling dream at break of
day.

No image meets my wandering eye, But the new-risen sun and the sunny sky.

Though the night-shades are gone, yet a vapor dull

Bedims the waves so beautiful: While a low and melancholy moan Mourns for the glory that hath flown

HYMN FOR ANNIVERSARY MAR

RIAGE DAYS.

LORD, living here are we―

As fast united yet

As when our hands and hearts by Thee

Together first were knit.

And in a thankful song

Now sing we will Thy praise,

For that Thou dost as well prolong
Our loving, as our days.

Together we have now

Begun another year;

But how much time Thou wilt allow
Thou makest it not appear.
We, therefore, do implore

That live and love we may.
Still so as if but one day more
Together we should stay.

Let each of other's wealth

Preserve a faithful care,
And of each other's joy and health
As if one soul we were.
Such conscience let us make,
Each other not to grieve,
As if we daily were to take
Our everlasting leave.

The frowardness that springs
From our corrupted kind,

Or from those troublous outward

things

Which may distract the mind, Permit Thou not, O Lord,

Our constant love to shake Or to disturb our true accord,

Or make our hearts to ache.

But let these frailties prove
Affection's exercise;
And let discretion teach our love
Which wins the noblest prize.
So time, which wears away.
And ruins all things else,
Shall fix our love on Thee for aye,
In whom perfection dwells.

FROM "POVERTY."

THE works my calling doth propose Let me not idly shun;

For he whom idleness undoes,

Is more than twice undone: If my estate enlarge I may,

Enlarge my love for Thee;
And though I more and more decay,
Yet let me thankful be.

For be we poor or be we rich,
If well employed we are,

It neither helps nor hinders much,
Things needful to prepare;
Since God disposeth riches now,
As manna heretofore.
The feeblest gatherer got enow,
The strongest got no more.

Nor poverty nor wealth is that
Whereby we may acquire
That blessed and most happy state,
Whereto we should aspire;
But if Thy Spirit make me wise,
And strive to do my best,
There may be in the worst of these
A means of being blessed.

The rich in love obtain from Thee
Thy special gifts of grace;
The poor in spirit those men be
Who shall behold Thy face:
Lord! grant I may be one of these,
Thus poor, or else thus rich;
E'en whether of the two Thou please,
I care not greatly which.

FOR A WIDOWER OR WIDOW.

How near me came the hand of death,

When at my side he struck my dear, And took away the precious breath Which quickened my beloved peer!

How helpless am I thereby made-
By day how grieved, by night how
sad

And now my life's delight is gone,
Alas! how am I left alone!