Life is from thee, bless'd Father;
From thee our breathing spirits;
And thou dost give to all that live
The bliss that each inherits.
Day, night, and rolling seasons,
And all that life embraces,

With bliss are crowned, with joy abound,
And claim our thankful praises.

Though trial and affliction

May cast their dark shade o'er us, Thy love doth throw a heavenly glow Of light on all before us.

That love has smiled from heaven

To cheer our path of sadness,

And lead the way, through earth's dull day, To realms of endless gladness.

That light of love and glory

Has shone through Christ, the Saviour, The Lamb of God, who lived and died

That we might live for ever;

And since thy great compassion

Thus brings thy children near thee,

May we to praise devote our days,
And love as well as fear thee.

And when Death's final summons

From all earth's scenes shall move us,From friends, from foes, from joys, from woes, From all that know and love us,

O, then, let hope attend us!

Thy peace to us be given!

That we may rise above the skies,
And sing thy praise in heaven!

THE CLOUD-BRIDGE.

SAW ye that cloud, which arose in the west,
As the burning sun sank down to his rest,
How it spread so wide, and towered so high,
O'er the molten gold of that glowing sky,
That it seem'd-oh! it seemed like some arched way,
As it beam'd and gleam'd, in that glorious ray,

Where the spirit, freed
From its earthly weed,
And robed in the white

Of the saints in light,

Might pass from the waves of sin and woe,
To that world where ceaseless pleasures flow!

Ye saw that cloud, how it tower'd alone, Like an arched path o'er the billows thrown, How its pillars of azure and purple stood, And mock'd at the dash of the angry flood, While it beamed-oh! it beamed from its battlements high, As it gleam'd, and stream'd, in that western sky, Such a flood of mellow and golden light, As chain'd and fix'd the ravish'd sight, And pour'd, along our dark'ning way, The peace and joy of celestial day.

Such, as we haste to our heavenly home,
SAVIOUR! Such be the sights that come-
Thus, while the visions of time flit by,

And the fashion of earth grows dim to our eye,

Thus, let the light-oh! the light of thy love,

Beam bright on our sight from the mansions above-
Rending the gloom

Which enwraps the tomb,

And guiding our eye

To that world on high,

Where the people who love thee for ever shall share
The rest thou hast purchased, and gone to prepare.

THE GREAT LEANING TOWER OF PISA.

THIS celebrated leaning tower is one of the greatest curiosities of architecture in the world.

Pisa is a city in Italy, situate about four miles from the sea, and appears to great advantage from a distance; the swelling dome of the cathedral, attended by its baptistry on one side, and its celebrated leaning tower on the other, with various lesser domes and towers, around or in perspective, are visible at a considerable distance. The leaning round tower is the belfry of the cathedral, and is constructed of the finest white marble. It was finished in 1174. It consists of eight stories formed of arches supported by pillars, and is about 180 feet high. It is ascended by 230 steps, has several galleries on the outside, and is open in the interior. This tower, owing to the nature of the ground of the foundation, or to some other cause not hitherto ascertained, leans so much towards one side, that its inclination from the perpendicular exceeds fourteen feet.

The roof of the cathedral is supported by seventy-six marble pillars; the floor is of Mosaic work, and two large brazen doors are curiously wrought with the histories of the Old and New Testament. They are said to have been brought from Jerusalem. Here is also a fine marble bridge, and an aqueduct of 5000 arches, which conveys the water from hills five miles distant. The water is said to be the finest in Italy, and the country around is very fruitful. Pisa was once a very prosperous commercial republic. It flourished most in the eleventh and twelfth centuries; but in 1228 it was enslaved to its rival, the city of Florence.

MATILDA

WAS the daughter of a Minister of the Gospel in Scotland, who thus describes her first thoughts and feelings about religion, and the happy results. Matilda was suffering from hooping-cough. Her father says:

It was a day or two after I had left home, that Matilda disclosed, for the first time, the whole state of her feelings. Her mother had concluded their usual exercise of reading the Scriptures, and had sat down beside her. Matilda began by saying, that she had for some time back been anxious to open her mind to her, but that she could never find resolution to do it. This she deeply regretted; and particularly, that she had not spoken to me before I left home. She stated, that she had now made up her mind not to defer it, as she considered it sinful to have concealed the state of her feelings from her parents so long. She then lamented, in bitter terms, her being a sinner, and that she could not keep from sinning.

"When I think," she exclaimed, "that God cannot look upon sin but with horror, is it not dreadful that I cannot keep from sinning; and when I think of God's love towards me, in not sparing his own Son, it grieves me sorely, and wounds my feelings that I can so sin.-Does it not hurt your feelings, mother?"

"It ought certainly to do so," was her mother's reply, "but I'm afraid it does not enough."

Her mother then remarked, that it was through Christ alone the pardon of sin could be obtained; to which she re