To-morrow!-mortal, boast not thou

Of time and tide that are not now!

But think, in one revolving day

That e'en thyself may'st pass away.

HOPE IN THE RESURRECTION.

[H. K. White.

THROUGH Sorrow's night, and danger's path,

Amid the deepening gloom,

We soldiers of an injured King

Are marching to the tomb.

There, when the turmoil is no more,
And all our powers decay,

Our cold remains in solitude

Shall sleep the years away.

Our labors done, securely laid

In this our last retreat,

Unheeded o'er our silent dust

The storms of life shall beat.

Yet not thus lifeless, thus inane,

The vital spark shall lie,

For o'er life's wreck that spark shall rise,

To seek its kindred sky.

These ashes too, this little dust,

Our Father's care shall keep,

Till the last angel rise and break
The long and dreary sleep.

Then love's soft dew o'er every eye,
Shall shed its mildest rays,

And the long silent dust shall burst

With shouts of endless praise.

RESURRECTION.

[Anon.

OUR life how short! a groan, a sigh ;

We live-and then begin to die :

But ok! how great a mercy this,

That death's a portal into bliss!

My soul! death swallows up thy fears

My grave-clothes wi

way all tears;

Why should we fear this parting pain,

Who die, that we may live again.

STEADY PURSUIT OF HEAVEN.

THE dove let loose in eastern skies,

Returning fondly home,

[Moore.

Ne'er stoops to earth her wing, nor flies

Where idler warblers roam;

But high she shoots through air and light,

Above all low delay.

Where nothing earthly bounds her flight,

Nor shadow dims her way.

So grant me, Lord! from every stain,

Of sinful passion free,

Aloft, through virtue's purer air,
To steer my course to thee !

No sin to cloud, no lure to stay,
My soul, as home she springs,
Thy sunshine on her joyful way,

Thy freedom on her wings.

HEAVEN.

THE golden palace of my God

[Bowring.

Towering above the clouds I see, Beyond the cherub's bright abode, Higher than angels' thoughts can be: How can I in those courts appear,

Without a wedding-garment on? Conduct me, thou life-giver, there,

Conduct me to thy glorious throne;

And clothe me with thy robes of light,
And lead me through sin's darksome night,
My Saviour and my God.

THE HEAVENLY REST.

THERE is an hour of peaceful rest,

To mourning wanderers given;

[Anon..