Now let us repose from our labour and sorrow,
And all that is anxious and sad pass away;
The rough care of life lay aside till to-morrow,
But let us be tranquil and happy to-day.'

And say to the world, should it tempt us to wander,
As Abraham said to his men on the plain,
"There's the mountain of Prayer, I am going up yonder,
And tarry you here till I seek you again."

To-day on that mount we would seek for thy blessing,
O Spirit of holiness! meet with us there;

Our hearts will then feel, thy sweet influence possessing, The sweetness of praise, and the fervor of prayer.

THE EVENING HOUR.

SWEET evening hour! Sweet evening hour!
That calms the air and shuts the flower,

That brings the wild bee to its nest,

The infant to its mother's breast.

Sweet hour! that bids the labourer cease,

That gives the weary team release,

And leads them home, and crowns them there

With rest and shelter, food and care.

O season of soft sounds and hues,
Of twilight walks among the dews,
Of feelings calm and converse sweet,
And thoughts too shadowy to repeat!
Yes, lovely hour! thou art the time
When feelings flow and wishes climb,
When timid souls begin to dare,

And God receives and answers prayer.

Then, trembling, through the dewy skies,
Look out the stars, like thoughtful eyes
Of angels, calm reclining there,

And gazing on the world of care.

Sweet hour! for heavenly musing made,
When Isaac walked and Daniel prayed,
When Abram's offering God did own,
And Jesus loved to be alone.

SILENCE.

WHERE dwelleth Silence?-In the cloistered cell?-
The moonlit-grove, when e'en the song is o'er

Of night's sweet choristers, and the faint swell
Of evening's latest breeze is heard no more?
Where dwelleth Silence?-On the desert shore,

Where, from creation's birth, no human voice
Hath yet been heard to sorrow or rejoice,
Nor human foot hath dared its wilds explore?-
Are these thy homes, O Silence?-No;-e'en there
A void comes awful as the solitude,

That humbles nature in her sternest mood,
And quells the fiercest savage in his lair:
In peopled cities, as in waste untrod,

Its tones are mighty,-'tis the voice of God.

WHO IS ALONE?

How heavily the path of life

Is trod by him who walks alone; Who hears not, on his dreary way,

Affection's sweet and cheering tone. Alone, although his heart should bound With love to all things great and fair, They love not him,-there is not one His sorrow or his joy to share.

The ancient stars look coldly down
On man, the creature of a day;
They lived before him, and live on

Till his remembrance pass away.
The mountain lifts its hoary head,

Nor to his homage deigns reply; The stormy billows bear him forth, Regardless which-to live or die.

The floweret blooms unseen by him,
Unmindful of his warmest praise;
And if it fades, seeks not his hand

Its drooping loveliness to raise.

The brute creation own his power,

And grateful serve him, though in fear;

Yet cannot sympathise with man,

For if he weeps, they shed no tear.

Alone, though in the busy town,

Where hundreds hurry to and fro,

If there is none who for his sake

A selfish pleasure would forego;

And oh! how lonely, among those

Who have not skill to read his heart,

When first he learns how summer friends

At sight of wintry storms depart.

My Saviour! and didst Thou too feel

How sad it is to be alone,

Deserted in the adverse hour

By those who most thy love had known?
The gloomy path, though distant still,
Was ever present to thy view ;

Oh! how couldst Thou, foreseeing it,
For us that painful course pursue?

Forsaken by thy nearest friends,

Surrounded by malicious foes, No kindly voice encouraged Thee,

When the loud shout of scorn arose. Yet there was calm within thy soul,

Nor Stoic pride that calmness kept,

Nor Godhead, unapproached by woe,

Like man Thou hadst both loved and wept.

Thou wert not then alone, for God

Sustained Thee by his mighty power; His arm most felt, his care most seen, When needed most in saddest hour; None else could comfort, none else knew

How dreadful was the curse of sin ;He who controlled the storm without, Could gently whisper peace within.

Who is alone, if God be nigh?

Who shall repine at loss of friends,

While he has One of boundless power,
Whose constant kindness never ends;

Whose presence felt, enhances joy,

Whose love can stop the flowing tear,

And cause upon the darkest cloud

The pledge of mercy to appear.

MERCY SOUGHT AND FOUND.

PILGRIM, burdened with thy sin,

Come the way to Zion's gate; There, till mercy speaks within,

Knock and weep, and watch and wait: Knock, He knows the sinner's cry;

Weep, He loves the mourner's tears;

Watch, for saving grace is nigh;

Wait, till heavenly grace appears.

Hark, it is thy Saviour's voice!

"Welcome, pilgrim, to thy rest!"

Now within the gate rejoice,

Safe and owned, and bought and blest.

Safe, from all the lures of vice;

Owned, by joys the contrite know;

Bought, by love, and life the price;

Blest, the mighty debt to owe!

Holy pilgrim! what for thee

In a world like this remains?

From thy guarded breast shall flee

Fear and shame, and doubts and pains.

Fear, the hope of heaven shall fly;

Shame, from glory's view retire;

Doubt, in full belief shall die;

Pain, in endless bliss expire.

THE END.