"When, far behind, the world's great tumult dies,

Thou shalt look back and wonder at its roar :
But its far voice shall seem to thee a dream,
Its power to vex thy holier life no more.

“There shalt thou learn the secret, by a power Mine to bestow, which heals the ills of living: To overcome by love, to live by prayer,

To conquer man's worst evil by forgiving."

MRS. STOWE.

"Anto you, O men,

I call: my Voice is to the Sons of Man.”

"Who teacheth like HIM."

OD hath a voice, that ever is heard

In the peal of the thunder, the chirp of the bird; It comes in the torrent, all rapid and strong, In the streamlet's soft gush as it ripples along; It breathes in the zephyr, just kissing the bloom ; It lives in the rush of the sweeping simoom : Let the hurricane whistle or warblers rejoice, What do they tell thee, but God hath a voice?

God hath a presence, and that ye may see

In the fold of the flower, the leaf of the tree;
In the sun of the noon-day, the star of the night;
In the storm-cloud of darkness, the rainbow of light;
In the waves of the ocean, the furrows of land;
In the mountains of granite, the atom of sand:
Turn where ye may, from the sky to the sod,
Where can ye gaze that ye see not a God?

"Be Just and Fear Not."

PEAK thou the truth. Let others fence,
And trim their words for pay;

In pleasant sunshine of pretence

Let others bask their day.

Guard thou the fact, though clouds of night

Down on thy watch-tower stoop;

Though thou should'st see thine heart's delight
Borne from thee by their swoop.

Face thou the wind, though safer seem

In shelter to abide :

We were not made to sit and dream,

"The safe must first be tried."

Where God hath set His thorns about,
Cry not, "The way is plain :"
His path within for those without
Is paved with toil and pain.

One fragment of His blessed Word
Into thy spirit burned,

Is better than the whole, half heard,
And by their interest turned.

Show thou thy light. If conscience gleam,

Set not the bushel down;

The smallest spark may send his beam
O'er hamlet, tower, and town.

Woe, woe to him, on safety bent,
Who creeps to age from youth,
Failing to grasp his life's intent
Because he fears the truth.

Be true to every inmost thought,
And as thy thought, thy speech:
What thou hast not by suffering bought,
Presume thou not to teach.

Hold on hold on! thou hast the Rock;
The foes are on the sand:

The first world-tempest's ruthless shock
Scatters their shifting strand;

While each wild gust the mist shall clear

We now see darkly through,

And justified at last appear

The true, in Him that's True.

ALFORD.

The Jby.

HE ivy in a dungeon grew,

Unfed by rain, uncheered by dew;
Its pallid leaflets only drank

Cave moistures foul and odours dank.

But through the dungeon-grating high,
There fell a sunbeam from the sky :

It slept upon the grateful floor
In silent gladness evermore.

The ivy felt a tremor shoot

Through all its fibres to the root,

It felt the light, it saw the

It strove to issue into day.

ray,

It grew, it crept, it pushed, it clomb:
Long had the darkness been its home;
But well it knew, though veiled in night,
The goodness and the joy of light.

Its clinging roots grew deep and strong;
Its stem expanded firm and long;

And in the currents of the air

Its tender branches flourished fair.

It reached the beam; it thrilled, it curled,
It blessed the warmth that cheers the world:

It rose towards the dungeon bars,—

It looked upon the sun and stars.

It felt the life of bursting spring,

It heard the happy sky-lark sing :
It caught the breath of morns and eves,
And woo'd the swallow to its leaves.

By rains and dews and sunshine fed,
Over the outer wall it spread;
And in the day-beam waving free,

Upon that solitary place

Its verdure threw adorning grace,
The mating birds became its guests,
And sang its praises from their nests.

Would'st know the moral of this rhyme?
Behold the heavenly light, and climb!
Look up, O tenant of the cell,

Where man, the prisoner, must dwell.