(Original.) THOUGHTS ON VISITING A POOR AND REV. W. H. BATHURST. Is this the palace where a princess dwells, No clustering columns here, no arches wide, As you approach this dwelling, tread with care, Here heaps of refuse crowd the path, and there That hollow thatch, that broken window-pane, Can ill resist the wind and driving rain, When the sky blackens, and the tempests roar. Entering the lowly cottage, you behold No costly and elaborate works of art; But there's a treasure of more worth than goldA pious, humble, and contented heart. By the fireside her constant place she keep— And ceaseless sufferings cloud her languid eyes. And do you marvel that a gracious God Should visit her with so severe a rod, With wealth unbless'd, with comforts unsupplied? Approach and ask her whether she is left 66 In hopeless want and misery to pine: Although," she cries, "of earthly stores bereft, A heavenly inheritance is mine. "These light afflictions will work out for me A more exceeding weight of endless joy; A few more days or weeks-and I shall be Where pain can never reach, nor foes annoy. "My gracious Father still maintains my cause, Hears all my prayers, and all my wants supplies; Only those hurtful things his love withdraws Which would impede my progress to the skies. "This changeful world is not my place of rest; Shall tune my harp in realms of cloudless day." And can religion cheer the mean abode Of want and sickness with such wondrous power? Can it so lighten nature's heaviest load, And gild with peaceful hope a dying hour? Oh! surely, then, the Lord hath better things His foes may triumph in such gifts as these: Would you the path of highest honour tread? He is your richest treasure-He can give He saves the lost, He bids the dying live, In vain let sin entice, or earth decoy, Let pleasure spread its treacherous snares in vain; Make Christ your refuge, that you may enjoy In trouble, peace-in death, eternal gain! (Original.) "MY HOPE IS IN THEE." MRS ABDY. THE sunbeams have fled that my path lately gladden'd! I own that I sorrow to see them depart; And those who behold me thus troubled and sadden'd, Imagine that hope is extinct in my heart. Yet no!-though the world has no secret to charm me, The dark clouds of grief are unable to harm me, No spell can renew the loved bond of affection, A CHILD'S FIRST IMPRESSION OF A STAR. N. P. WILLIS. SHE had been told that God made all the stars Fill'd her young heart with gladness; and the eve Of sunset, where the blue was melted in 66 Father, dear father! God has made a star!" |