3. The Scriptures speak of saints being made kings and priests for ever. Is not this what the Papists found their doctrine of praying to saints upon;-the office of a king being to bestow favors, and that of a priest, to offer up, or plead for? EPHRAIM.

1. None but believers can pray. "He that cometh to God must believe that He is; and that he is the rewarder of those that diligently seek him." But an individual in the circumstances described by our correspondent, certainly manifests faith, in applying to God for wisdom and direction, as well as by his anxiety to believe the gospel, and repel the insinuations of his adversary.

2. The objection stated by our correspondent, has been so strongly urged by some critics, as to give rise to the opinion that this psalm was neither written by David, nor had any reference to the matter of Uriah. We are decidedly opposed to this alternative; as we think the internal evidence quite strong enough to fix its authorship on David, and determine its refer

ence.

David, as a king, was amenable to no earthly tribunal: he could not, so to speak, sin against any but the King of kings himself. His confession must, therefore, be understood in this sense: "I have sinned, and done wickedly; but as I am not answerable to man, my confession must be made to Thee, for against Thee only have I sinned," &c.

3. Popery assumes, that the fact of the saints reigning together with Christ, gives them a claim to be honored and invocated. But it is evident, from numerous passages of Scripture, that such an inference is not only unwarranted, but highly reprehensible and dangerous, (see Matt. iv. 10. Acts x. 26, and xiv. 15. Col. ii. 18. I Tim. i. 7, and ii. 5, &c. &c.)

WANT AND EXCESS.

As there is a misery in want, so there is a danger in excess. I would therefore desire neither more nor less than enough. I may die of a surfeit, as well as of hunger.

382

POETRY.

"

THE SEA GARDEN.

By S. Revell.

WELL, little people! what have ye done,

On the shining beach since the rising sun?

Have ye watch'd the light foam of the silvery waves,
Or climbed the wild cliffs, or seen the caves?"

-"We have gather'd fresh buds from the upland lea,

And planted a garden beside the sea:
The sand is damp, and the sky is fair,
And long shall our garden flourish there."

-"Ah, little sweet ones? the sunny sky
Oft changes to gloom as clouds roll by:
And thunder rolls, as the day has flown,
On whose dawning an eastern glory shone."

So onward we passed. In a few short hours
Returning again, we sought the flowers;
No wind had ruffled the billowy store,
No tempest had swept o'er that peaceful shore.

Yet the garden was gone, with its colors sheen,
Nor a vestige told where its place had been :
The tide in its course had borne away
Each dark green leaf, and each petal gay.

There's a lesson to learn from this simple tale;
-How soon shall our earthly treasures fail!
In perishing beauty awhile they stand,
Like rootless stems in the treacherous sand.

It needs not the shock of the tempest's ire,
Tho' oft it comes, with its breath of fire:
But the natural course of life's short day,
Brings a tide which bears our joys away.

Childhood's blossoms! where are they now;
Or the wreaths that crown the youthful brow?
E'en the stronger tints of manhood's flowers,
Shall have pass'd away with the evening hours.
Beyond the light sand may our portion be;
Above the vain earth, and the changing sea:
Fix'd in the land of light and love,

Rooted in hopes that shall never remove.—
There may the heart, with its treasures remain,
The purchase and gift of the Lamb that was slain.

A PASSAGE FROM LIFE.

AMIDST a grove of sheltering trees, a little party strayed,
Where many a pleasant sight and sound their wandering steps delayed;
The gentle breeze through clustered boughs made notes so soft and clear
They could not choose but pause, and lend a gladly listening ear;
They stood beneath a rugged hill, and on its open brow

A votive chapel had been raised, long, long ago;-but now
All desolate and bleak it stood, transporting fancy's eye
Through distant ages, to the days of ancient chivalry.
Far off the moon looked down upon a calm untroubled sea,
She seemed to clothe all earthly things in her own purity;

She mellowed each bright hue and shade which hung o'er leaf and flower:
No wonder charms so multiplied prolonged that evening hour.

At times they spoke: -but oftener gazed upon this lovely scene,
And dared not speak lest they should mar a beauty so serene;
Each communed silently with thoughts too deep -perchance too dear-
To be revealed by earthly words to any human ear.

They all were young: each heart was rife with youth's own joy and care,
Each struggling singly-for such strife no earthly friend may share;
And one, (I speak alone of her) for many a weary year

Had waged a ceaseless, secret, fight with hope, and grief, and fear : And on that quiet night her thoughts gushed up so fast and strong, That to herself she silently sang an unuttered song:

Calm, calm and still!

The moonbeam sleeps on the leafy hill,

The soft breeze murmurs stealthily

Over the banks where sweet flowers lie;
This reign of peace, and rest, and joy,
Can aught alloy?

Calm, calm and still!

Perfumes through the balmy air distil,
The queenly Moon moves silently
In the blue depths of the vaulted sky,
Each troubled thing at such peaceful hour
Must own its power!

Calm, calm and still!

No sound e'en of a rippling rill,

Or the heavings of ocean's sleepless breast
Disturbs this scene of perfect rest :
Here surely naught that is wild and rude
Shall dare intrude!

Calm, calm and still!

As the worshippers on that rocky hill,
They waged, perchance, full many a strife,
But left it all with parting life,

And laid them down to their last, long sleep,
In silence deep!

Calm, calm and still!

Hushed is each sound of woe or weal:
Each little bird, in its shady nest,

Hath sweetly sung itself to rest;

In such repose dost thou share a part,
Thou human heart?

Calm, calm and still!

Silence and rest the landscape fill,

But the heart mid hurrying doubt and fear

Looks for no perfect quiet here;

Oh! when shall such strange conflict cease,
And all be peace?

Calm, calm and still!

Here passions of earth, and an earthly will
Maintain a ceaseless, boisterous strife;
But to those who share a heavenly life,
A sure and glorious hope is given
Of rest in heaven!

Calm, calm and still!

Unbroken by aught of guilt or ill;
Each passion hushed by holy love,
Each conflict o'er: in that home above,
Naught can disturb the perfect rest
On Jesu's breast!

B.