What is procrastination?
Something that will delay,-
And fain would do some other time
The business of to-day;
It cheats us of our moments;
It steals our precious hours,
As unperceived they glide away,
Till life no more is ours.

What is Procrastination?
The dying mortal cries ;-
A something that eternal peace
To his lost soul denies;
That held to him delusive hopes,
And when that hope was gone,
Then mocked him for his foolishness
Exulting in his doom.

THE VOYAGE OF LIFE.

To the Young.

THE time of life which is now passing over you is of immense and inconceivable importance. I cannot think of your entering on the busy scenes and numerous temptations of the world, without feeling for you the greatest solicitude. Every step you take is decisive-every action you perform is critical-every idea you form is likely to become a principle, influencing your future destiny! God knows the consequences and results. You remind me of what I have often witnessed with inexpressible delight in the days of my youth-a fine vessel launched upon the waters, its streamers waving

in the wind, acclamations rending the air as it passed triumphantly along, expectation and delight beaming from every countenance ! But who could tell its future story-the storms that were to pass over it, the rocks that were to endanger it, or the unknown sighs and lamentations that were to fill the minds and awaken the solicitudes of its inhabitants? And often have I heard of the wreck of the very vessel which I had seen launched; others have returned shattered and almost wrecked by the dangers which they had encountered! Of such thoughts and anxieties it is natural to be possessed on the present occasion. You, my young friends, are just launched; the gale of hope swells your sails; you are looking forward to years of happiness and delight. Oh let me ask you a few questions of infinite moment to your peace. Who is your pilot? what is your chart? how will you steer your course? what is your destined haven? You would deem him ill fitted to superintend maritime or nautical concerns, who was not possessed of all skill, and foresight and prudence; who did not anticipate what was likely to happen, and aim to make suitable preparation. What, then, must be the folly of that youth who is thinking only of the passing moment, only of immediate provision, the delight of the day which is fleeting over him! who manifests no anxiety in reference to the future, the eternal concerns of his soul!

EXCUSES.

"And they all with one consent began to make excuse."Luke xiv. 18.

GOD made a feast and bid his creatures come,
But strange excuses kept the most at home.
Some are too busy to partake the treat,
And some too idle, e'en to rise and eat;
Some too well settled to seek endless rest,
And some too happy to be truly blest.
Some are too learned to be really wise;
And some too rich the pearl of price to prize.
Some are too knowing wisdom's voice t' attend,
And some too stupid, truth to comprehend.
Some are too bold the God of heaven to dread,
And some too timid duty's path to tread.
Some are too good free mercy to receive,
And some too bad their wickedness to leave.
"'Tis yet too soon," says youth, in vigorous bloom,
"To waste my time in dull religious gloom;"
While bustling manhood pleads for short delay,
"'Tis time enough; I'll seize a future day."
E'en wither'd age still asks a longer date,
And then exclaims, "Alas! 'tis now too late."
Happy the youth to early zeal inclined,
Whose God delights and awes his opening mind;
The man who first pursues the world above,
And leaves the rest to his Creator's love;
The hoary saint, with honoured age opprest,
Who quits his load, and wings his way to rest!
And happy all who listen and obey,

While mercy still proclaims th' accepted day;
Who timely comes, the meanest and the least,
Shall find a welcome to the Gospel Feast.

216

T. B.

I MEAN to be a soldier

With uniform quite new;

I wish they'd let me have a drum,
And be a captain too;

I would go amid the battle

With my broadsword in my hand,

And hear the cannon rattle,

And the music all so grand.

MOTHER.

And bid some loving father
From his little ones depart!

What comfort would your waving plumes
And brilliant dress bestow,

When you thought upon his widow's tears, And her orphans' cry of woe!

JOHN.

Then I will be a president,

And rule each rising state,
And hold my levees once a week,
For all the gay and great.
I'll be a king, except a crown,
For that they won't allow;
I'll find out what the tariff is,
They talk of so just now.

MOTHER.

My son! my son! the cares of state
Are thorns upon the breast,
That ever pierce the good man's heart,
And rob him of his rest;

The great and gay to him appear
As trifling as the dust,

He knows how little they are worth—
How faithless is their trust.

LOUISA.

mean to be a cottage girl,

And sit behind a rill,

And morn and eve my pitcher there
With purest water fill;

And I'll train a lovely woodbine
Around my cottage door,

And welcome to my winter hearth
The wandering and the poor.