Thou hears't me not; thy heart's asleep
Already, and thy lids are closing;
Then lie thee still, and I will weep
Whilst thou my dearest art reposing-
And wish that I could slumber free,
And with thee in yon heaven awaken,
Oh would that it our home might be,
For here we are by all forsaken.
What have I said, forsaken-no:
ONE there is will ne'er forsake us.
We will trust him till we go

To that rest to which he'll take us.

NIGHT.

THE Sun has reposed itself upon the breast of the ocean, the day is closed, and night clad in her sable mantle succeeds. But to relieve the gloom, and make even the face of night appear lovely, the moon beams forth with mild refulgence, and sheds her silvery light upon our midnight path

Thou reigning beauty of the night,
Fair queen of silence, silver moon,
Whose gentle beans and borrowed light
Are softer rivals of the noon.

Arise and to that Sovereign Power,
Waxing and waning, honours pay,
Who bids thee rule the dusky hour,
And half supply the absent day

What innumerable worlds of light do I now see coming forth shining in the firmament of Heaven! Some with their own, and others with borrowed lustre, each looking to us no larger than a diamond set in a ring, yet in

reality they are worlds much larger than the globe which we inhabit. What a magnificent spectacle to gaze upon! Compared with this all earthly glory is as dust.

O GOD, when I look upon these refulgent orbs, when I contemplate the vast fabric of the universe, I am lost in my own nothingness, and exclaim "What is man that thou art mindful of him, or the son of man that thou visitest him!" Yet when I consider myself, I find that I have something within me which is superior even to these resplendent worlds, for although they shine forth with so much grandeur, they are void of intelligence, and strangers to their own beauties; whilst I, who am but a worm of the dust as respects my body, am endowed with an immortal soul which can contemplate the beauty and order of these shining orbs, and adore their great Artificer. But O my God, if these thy works are so glorious to behold, what must thou thyself be, who fillest immensity, who art the King eternal, immortal, and invisible, and dwellest in light which no man can approach unto, whom no man hath seen nor can see

Thou, O Lord, didst call these innumerable worlds out of chaos, didst strew them over the vast infinitude of space, and thou dost so govern their revolutions, that they preserve the utmost harmony. O Lord, how great are thy works in wisdom hast thou made them all. "Thou tellest the number of the stars, and

callest them all by their names." These resplendent orbs are so numerous that were this earth annihilated, its absence would no more be perceived than a leaf of the forest. And yet, His very word of grace is strong,

As that which built the skies;
The voice that rolls the stars along,
Speaks all the promises.

O that my mind were equal to the mighty task of comprehending the magnificence of thy works! That as I now pass from flower to flower, I might go from star to star, and gaze on new wonders and behold new beauties, until I come to the august sanctuary where thou sittest in ineffable glory. But this would be too much for frail mortality. I must die before these desires can be fulfilled. Flesh and blood cannot inherit the kingdom of God. Blessed be the Son of God for ever, who has brought life and immortality to light by the Gospel. He has opened a bright pathway to the skies. Through faith in his blood, shed to wash away sin, I obtain forgiveness, and hope one day to shine as the brightness of the firmanent, and as a star for ever and ever!

Leicester.

LITTLE CHILDREN.

SPORTING through the forest wide;
Playing by the water-side;
Wandering o'er the healthy fells;
Down within the woodland dells;

R. W.

All among the mountains wild;
Dwelleth many a little child!
In the baron's hall of pride;
By the poor man's dull fireside :
'Mid the mighty, 'mid the mean,
Little children may be seen,

Like the flowers, that spring up fair,
Bright, and countless, everywhere!
In the far isles of the main;
In the desert's lone domain;
In the savage mountain glen,
'Mong the tribes of swarthy men ;
Wheresoe'er foot hath gone;
Wheresoe'er the sun hath shone
On a league of peopled ground,
Little children may be found!
Blessings on them! they in me
Move a kind of sympathy,

With their wishes, hopes, and fears;
With their laughter, and their tears;
With their wonder, so intense,
And their small experience!

Little children, not alone

On the wide earth are ye known;
'Mid its labours, and its cares,
'Mid its sufferings, and its snares.
Free from sorrow, free from strife,
In the world of love and life,
Where no sinful thing hath trod :
In the presence of your God,
Spotless, blameless, glorified,
Little children, ye abide!

MARY HOWITT.

THE TWO NEIGHBOURS.

In a small country town in Massachusetts, there lived two wealthy farmers, whose lands adjoined each other. From some common causes, such as trespassing of cattle, poor fences, &c., they became very inimical to each other; and finally got into the law, and spent a great deal of money for trifling supposed offences. They would often injure themselves for the sake of injuring each other. They went even so far as to make two fences on the division line of their farms, and in one place, where a lane was left open for the accommodation of one to go to his field, the other went and pulled down a good straight fence and made a crooked