Our eyes have seen the steps of age
Halt feebly towards the tomb;
And yet shall earth our hearts engage,
And dreams of days to come?

Turn, mortal, turn! thy danger know!
Where'er thy foot can tread,
The earth rings hollow from below,
And warns thee of her dead!

Turn, Christian, turn! thy soul apply To truths divinely given ;

The bones that underneath thee lie

Shall live for Hell or Heaven!

ON A PICTURE OF A GIRL LEADING HER BLIND MOTHER THROUGH A WOOD.

N. P. WILLIS.

THE green leaves as we pass

Lay their light fingers on thee unaware,

And by thy side the hazels cluster fair,

And the low forest grass

Grows green and silken where the wood-paths wind ;Alas! for thee, sweet mother! thou art blind!

And nature is all bright,

And the faint gray and crimson of the dawn,
Like folded curtains from the day are drawn;
And evening's purple light

Quivers in tremulous softness on the sky;-
Alas! sweet mother! for thy clouded eye!

The moon's new silver shell

Trembles above thee, and the stars float up
In the blue air, and the rich tulip's cup

Is pencill'd passing well,

And the swift birds on glorious pinions flee ;

Alas! sweet mother! that thou canst not see!

And the kind looks of friends

Peruse the sad expression in thy face;

And the child stops amid his bounding race, And the tall stripling bends

Low to thine ear with duty unforgot;

Alas! sweet mother! that thou seest them not

But thou canst hear! and love

May richly on a human tone be pour'd,
And the least cadence of a whisper'd word
A daughter's love may prove;

And while I speak, thou knowest if I smile,
Albeit thou canst not see my face the while!

Yes, thou canst hear! and He

Who on thy sightless eye its darkness hung,
To the attentive ear, like harps, hath strung
Heaven, and earth, and sea!

And 'tis a lesson in our hearts to know,
With but one sense the soul may overflow!

(Original.)

"HIS NAME IS AS OINTMENT POURED FORTH."

A. R. C.

How shall I find a name

Expressive of my Saviour's grace?

How may I spread His fame,

And all the brightness of His glory trace?

All images are dim

All titles, cold, for Him

Who beams the light of Godhead from His face.

'He is a Rock of Strength!'

I trust Him!-hell shall not prevail :

The victory at length

My soul shall gain, whatever foes assail.

None have His word believed

And found their trust deceived,

Or known the ground of their assurance fail.

'He is a hiding-place!'

He draws me to His wounded side!

I feel His strong embrace;

He bids me cower beneath His mantle wide.

Distance and fear are o'er

My glad soul asks no more

Than in such love for ever to abide!

'He is the Son of Man!'

Oh, kindly sound for human hearts!

When I His glory scan,

This thought relief to my awed soul imparts "He will not chide severe

When flows the natural tear;

He wears my nature, and has felt its smarts! ”

He is a bruised rose!'

His sweetness fills the Courts above;

And o'er sick hearts he throws

The quickening fragrance of His dying love!

'Tis aye the lowliest bower

Inviteth Sharon's flower;

Mine be a heart my

Saviour shall approve!

He is a lily fair,'

All glory and humility ;

Where'er the breath of prayer,

Meek adoration, and the contrite sigh,

Go up from spirits meek,

There doth the Holiest seek

His rest, though dwelling in eternity!

'He is a tree of life!'

His fruits are pleasant to the taste,

His leaves with healing rife

His shadow welcome 'mid the burning waste.