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Up! up! he mounts to heaven away,
The bird of lowly nest;
Hark! to his wildly gushing lay,
The dew is on his breast.

He meets the morning in the skies
Upon his dappled wings,
It seems to rain down melodies,
In the glad song he sings.

Over the landscape green and brown,
Bright golden shadows fall:

But Oh! the lark's song coweth down
More golden than them all.

The forest minstrels all are mute,
No other sound is heard,
Save low winds breathing like a lute,
With which the trees are stirred.

G. S. PHILlips.

LIFE'S REALITY.

I SLEPT, and dreamed that life was Beauty; I woke and found that life was Duty.

Was thy dream then a shadowy lie?
Toil on, sad heart, courageously,
And thou shalt find thy life to be
A noonday light and truth to thee.

ANON.

SABBATH EVENING.

Is there a time when moments flow
More peacefully than all beside ?
It is, of all the times below,

A Sabbath eve in summer's tide.

Oh then the setting sun smiles fair,
And all below, and all above,
The different forms of nature wear
One universal garb of love!

Delightful scene! a world at rest,

A God all love, no grief nor fear,
A heavenly hope, a peaceful breast,
A smile unsullied by a tear.

If heaven be ever felt below,

A scene so heavenly sure as this
May cause a heart on earth to know
Some foretaste of celestial bliss.

Delightful hour! how soon will night

Spread her dark mantle o'er thy reign; And morrow's quick returning light Must call us to the world again.

Yet will there dawn at last a day—
A sun that never sets shall rise:
Night will not veil its ceaseless ray-
The heavenly sabbath never dies!
EDMESTON.

LAMA SABACTHANI.

As darkness and death are the gateways of heaven,

So 'mid sorrow and pain, all insight is given;
The pillar of cloud in Prosperity's light-
Is a pillar of flame in Adversity's night.

Oft must we inly cry
Lama Sabacthani!
If we would crucify,
Overcome sense;
Oft must we inly know
Seasons of bitter woe
Hear spirit voices low
Calling us hence.

We shrink from the pain, but the pain brings the good;

'Tis the torturing fever that purges the blood,
The chosen of God are the broken, despised,
The forsaken are those who live unchastised.
Oft must we inly cry
Lama Sabacthani!
If we would crucify,

Overcome sense;
Oft must we inly know
Seasons of bitter woe
Hear spirit voices low
Calling us hence.

In dreariest wastes, sweet flowers have their birth, [earth; To bring us the stars-night curtains the

M

All exquisite tones that ear ever heard,
Were the notes of some harp
That affliction had stirred.
Oft must we inly cry
Lama Sabacthani !
If we would crucify,

Overcome sense;
Oft must we inly know
Seasons of bitter woe
Hear spirit voices low
Calling us hence.

KATE BARLand.

THE LIGHT OF STARS.

THE night is come, but not too soon;
And sinking silently,

All silently, the little moon
Drops down behind the sky.

There is no light in earth or heaven,
But the cold light of stars;
And the first watch of light is given
To the red planet Mars.

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