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A song of grateful praise is due
To thee, Almighty God, to thee;
For mercies ever rich and new,

And thy unchanging love to me !

Though foes with deadly weapons strove
To wound the comfort of my breast;
And Satan would my hope remove

From Thee, the Rock of heavenly rest.
Though the ungodly world has poured
Its scornful vial on my head;

And inward lusts, like tempests, roar'd,
Or storms disturbing ocean's bed.

Yet thy Almighty hand has wrough
Deliverance from their deadly will;
To flowery paths of safety brought,
And, O! my trust is in thee still.
How can I then my joy conceal?

Love warms my heart, and I must sing; A sweet constraining power I feel

To praise thee, O my God, and King!

THE SOUL HAS A LANGUAGE.

BY MRS. MOODIE.

THE Soul has a language the lips cannot learn;

Emotions and feelings no words can im

part:

The spirit within us may tremble and burn,

But who shall unfold the deep thoughts of the heart?

The waves of that torrent still restlessly

roll,

Though all from without may be silent

and dead;

No waters oblivious give peace to the soul; From eternity's ocean its fountains are fed.

It has visions of glory the eye cannot reach,

The pencil embody-the poet define; Perceptions of beauty that art cannot

teach,

[divine,

Aspirations for Heaven that prove it

An angel degraded, and fall'n from its sphere,

In silence it droops in its prison of clay; The immortal can meet with no sympathy here,

Till death rends the veil from the tem

ple away.

It is well for the pilgrim-though man's clouded gaze

Discerns not the thoughts in his bosom

enshrin'd;

[raise,

That the Father of spirits the curtain can

And read at a glance all the thoughts

his mind.

THE BANQUET IN THE

WILDERNESS.

BY G. R. CARTER.

THEY left the sunny citron-trees,

Which crown'd their native hills;
They left the founts that gush'd beneath,
In soft and silv'ry rills.

But faint with wand'ring on the road,
They cried for succour-Son of God!

But Thou, whose voice controll'd the wave,

And bade the tempest cease,

With food supplied the multitude,

And led them forth in peace :

Thy presence chang'd the desert scene,
To valleys bright with summer green!

Thus, when the clouds of care and gloom
Surround our lonely way;

When dimly gleams the spectral tomb,
And all our hopes decay.

With light deriv'd from realms afar,
Be Thou our help! our guiding star.

WOMAN,

UNDER THE GOSPEL

DISPENSATION.

THERE is no country in the world where

Even

the influence of woman is not felt! in those lands where the natives sit in "darkness, and the shadow of death"— where she is degraded and despised-she tempers the austerity of her partner by her cheerfulness; and her society, however undervalued, comprises still the charm of that which civilized nations call "Home."

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