HUMILITY.

THE bird that soars on highest wing,
Builds on the ground her lowly nest;
And she that doth most sweetly sing,
Sings in the shade when all things rest:
-In lark and nightingale we see
What honour hath humility.

When Mary chose the "better part,”

She meekly sat at Jesus' feet;

And Lydia's gently-open'd heart

Was made for God's own temple meet;

-Fairest and best adorn'd is she,

Whose clothing is humility.

The saint that wears heaven's brightest crown,

In deepest adoration bends;

The weight of glory bows him down,

Then most when most his soul ascends;

Nearest the throne itself must be

The footstool of humility.

1833.

EVENING TIME.

ZECH. XIV. 7.

Ar evening time let there be light :-
Life's little day draws near its close;
Around me fall the shades of night,
The night of death, the grave's repose;
To crown my joys, to end my woes,
At evening time let there be light.

At evening time let there be light : —
Stormy and dark hath been my day;
Yet rose the morn benignly bright,

Dews, birds, and flowers cheer'd all the way;
O for one sweet, one parting ray !

At evening time let there be light.

At evening time there shall be light:

For God hath said," So let it be !" Fear, doubt, and anguish, take their flight, His glory now is risen on me;

Mine eyes

shall his salvation see:

-'Tis evening time, and there is light.

Conway, North Wales, 1828.

REMINISCENCE.

REMEMBRANCE of the dead revives
The slain of time, at will;
Those who were lovely in their lives,
In death are lovelier still

Unburden'd with infirmity,
Unplagued like mortal men,
O with what pure delight we see
The heart's old friends again

Not as they sunk into the tomb,
With sickness-wasted powers,
But in the beauty and the bloom
Of their best days and ours.

The troubles of departed years
Bring joys unknown before;
And soul-refreshing are the tears

O'er wounds that bleed no more.

Lightnings may blast, but thunder-showers
Earth's ravaged face renew,
With nectar fill the cups of flowers,

And hang the thorns with dew.

Remembrance of the dead is sweet;
Yet how imperfect this,

Unless past, present, future, meet,
-A threefold cord of bliss!

Companions of our youth, our age,
With whom through life we walk'd,
And in our house of pilgrimage,
Of home beyond it talk'd:-

Grief on their urn may fix her eyes,

-They spring not from the ground; Love invoke them from the skies,

may

-There is no voice nor sound.

Fond memory marks them as they were, Stars in our horoscope;

But soon to see them as they are,

Not through the darkness of the night,

To waking thought unseal'd,

But in the uncreated light

Of Deity reveal'd.

They cannot come to us, but we

Ere long to them may go; -That glimpse of immortality Is heaven begun below.

A RECOLLECTION OF MARY F.,

A YOUNG LADY UNEXPECTEDLY REMOVED FROM A LARGE FAMILY CIRCLE.

Her life had twice been saved, once from the flames, and again from the water, by an affectionate father.

THRICE born for earth and twice for heaven,
A lovely maiden once I knew,

To whom 'tis now in glory given

To grow, as here in shade she grew ;
Brief was her course, but starry bright;
The linnet's song, the lily's white,

The fountain's freshness, these shall be
Meet emblems of that maid to me.

A weeping babe to light she came,

And changed for smiles a mother's throes;
In childhood from devouring flame
Rescued, to second life, she rose;
A father's arm had pluck'd her thence;
That arm again was her defence,
When buried in the strangling wave,
He snatch'd her from an ocean grave.

Twice born for heaven as thrice for earth,
When God's eternal Spirit moved