It is

and show the distinct marks of its species. Without careful cultivation, it remains a lovely, perhaps even a noxious, weed. The Human Flower closely resembles in many respects its brother of the field. either a flower of promise, or degenerates into a weed. Its vices are of spontaneous growth, and indigenous to the human heart -that soil of corruption and impiety: its virtues are exotic, and brought from the blessed climate of Heaven. Many things are required to bring the Human Flower to perfection. Faith must be the earth that sustains it-Hope the vital air it respiresand Charity the sunshine that warms and colours it. The bud will then expand its petals-display its brilliant tints to the view -give out its rich perfume-bear Christian fruits-and prove itself a genuine plant of immortality-a Flower of Paradise!

J. M. S.

D

BY BABEL'S STREAMS.

BY MRS. MOODIE.

By Babel's streams the captive band Of Israel sat and wept :

Sad exiles in a foreign land,

We mournful vigils kept.

We thought of Zion; and the sound
Was hush'd of harp and lute;
Our sighs awoke the echoes round;
The voice of joy was mute.

The mem'ry of our country rose,
More galling than our chain;
Whilst cruelly our haughty foes
Took up the taunting strain:

"Come sing us one of Zion's songs,
And touch the tuneful string !"

The heart that treasures up its wrongs Is in no mood to sing.

Oh! how can we exalt the voice
To sing thy praise, O Lord?
In this strange land can we rejoice,
Or magnify thy word?

When I forget Thee, O my God!

E'en in my hours of mirth,

May I forget my native sod,
The land that gave me birth!

ALLAN AND JANE.*

BY J. JACOB.

PEACE! peace! ye angry winds of heaven, still in your caverns lie;

And, O ye clouds of tempest gloom, forbear to shroud the sky;

Undimm'd let Cynthia's dewy light on

Ocean's bosom fall,

[over all;

And deep imposing silence reign, unbroken,

*Founded on fact.

Save by the plaint of Philomel, that wildly fitful song,

That, like the tide of feeling, flows responsive dells along;

The sacred hour of love should be secure from all alarm;

While blending sound and scene bind fast affection's mighty charm.

Down by the foaming ocean's flood, whose waves' resistless might

Must shortly waft the seaman far from his belov'd one's sight,

Brave Allan with his faithful Jane, in silent

sorrow stand,

Their language is the falling tear,

sure of the hand,

the pres

And the deep sighing of the breast, in ca

dence wild and low,

Far mightier eloquence than words, to tell

of bosom woe!

Words are but feeble to express the workings of the heart,

When those who've long and fondly lov'd,

are met, alas! to part.

Love, hallow'd by the heavenly flame of piety and truth,

Their hearts with gentlest sovereignty have govern'd from their youth;

Joy's infant budding has been nurs'd, till ripen'd into bloom,

It promis'd stores of purest sweets, for many years to come;

But time and distance both conspire, like frost of winter's day,

To chill its genial atmosphere, and wither it away:

Far must they part, and many a day be theirs' of secret pain,

And who can tell if they on earth shall ever meet again?