Charity.

1 COR. xiii.

THOUGH Cowper's zeal, though Milton's fire Inspired my glowing tongue;

Though holier raptures woke my lyre

Than ever seraph sung;

Though faith, though knowledge from above Mine ardent labors crowned;

Did I not glow with Christian love, "Twere but an empty sound.

Love suffers long; is just, sincere,
Forgiving, slow to blame;

Friend of the good, she grieves to hear

An erring brother's shame. Meek, holy, free from selfish zeal,

To generous pity prone,

She envies not another's weal

Nor triumphs in her own.

No evil, no suspicious thought,

She harbors in her breast;

She tries us by the deed we've wrought,

And still believes the best.

CHARITY.

Love never fails; though knowledge cease,

Though prophecies decay,

Love, Christian love, shall still increase,

Shall still extend her sway.

Here dimly through life's shadowy glass
We strain our infant eyes;

Soon shall the earthborn vapors pass,
And light unclouded rise;

Then Hope shall sink in changeless doom,
Then Faith's bright race be o'er,

But thou, eternal Love, shall bloom,
More glorious than before.

William Peter.

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The Paar.

If in this life only we have hope in Christ, we are of all men most miserable.1 COR. XV. 19.

THERE is a mourner, and her heart is broken;
She is a widow; she is old and poor;

Her only hope is in that sacred token
Of peaceful happiness when life is o'er;
She asks nor wealth nor pleasure, begs no more
Than Heaven's delightful volume, and the sight
Of her Redeemer. Skeptics, would you pour
Your blasting vials on her head, and blight

Sharon's sweet rose, that blooms and charms her being's night?

She lives in her affections; for the grave
Has closed upon her husband, children; all
Her hopes are with the arm she trusts will save
Her treasured jewels; though her views are small,
Though she has never mounted high, to fall
And writhe in her debasement, yet the spring
Of her meek, tender feelings, can not pall
Her unperverted palate, but will bring

A joy without regret, a bliss that has no sting.

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THE POOR.

Even as a fountain, whose unsullied wave
Wells in the pathless valley, flowing o'er
With silent waters, kissing, as they lave
The pebbles with light rippling, and the shore
Of matted grass and flowers, so softly pour
The breathings of her bosom, when she prays,
Low-bowed, before her Maker; then no more
She muses on the griefs of former days;

Her full heart melts, and flows in Heaven's dissolving rays.

And faith can see a new world, and the eyes Of saints look pity on her :-Death will come— A few short moments over, and the prize Of peace eternal waits her, and the tomb Becomes her fondest pillow; all its gloom Is scattered. What a meeting there will be To her and all she loved here! and the bloom Of new life from those cheeks shall never flee: Theirs is the health which lasts through all eternity. James G. Percival.

Peace in Believing.

Take heed, brethren, lest there be in any of you an evil heart of unbelief.— HEBREWS iii. 12.

THE tree that yields our care and grief,

Is from a root of unbelief!

The pricking thorns, the arrows fierce,

Our spirit and our flesh to pierce-
The grafts that spoil our vineyard's fruit,
Are from that bitter evil root.

The branch that hangs with clustering woes

The flag-staff of the prince of foes-
The tares that mar our golden sheaf,

All, all spring up from unbelief:
And Hope, the victim of Despair,
Points, dying, to the poison there.

But in Belief we've joy and peace,
Of faith and power a sweet increase;
From burning skies a cool retreat,
A shelter safe when tempests beat-
Fresh balm of Gilead for our grief—
For every wound a healing leaf.