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“Then I will drop," said the trusting Flake ;
“But bear in mind that the choice I make
Or the mist that shall pass with the morning :
To the regions above returning,
And if true to thy word, and just thou art,
And return to my native heaven :
H. F. GOULD.
WHAT IS TIME?
I ASKED an aged man, a man of cares,
I asked the ancient, venerable dead,
I asked a dying sinner, ere the stroke
I asked the golden sun and silver spheres,
I asked the seasons, in their annual round,
I asked a spirit lost—but, oh, the shriek -
Of things inanimate my dial I
I asked my Bible, and methinks it said,
I asked old Father Time himself at last,
I asked the mighty Angel, who shall stand
COMPLAINTS OF THE POOR.
The Rich man asked of me ;-
And I will answer thee."
'Twas evening, and the frozen streets
Were cheerless to behold;
And we were wrapped and coated well,
And yet we were a-cold.
His locks were few and white;
In that cold winter's night.
The cold was keen indeed, he said,
But at home no fire had he,
To ask for charity.
We met a young barefooted child,
And she begged loud and bold ; I asked her what she did abroad
When the wind it blew so cold.
She said her father was at home,
And he lay sick a-bed,
Abroad to beg for bread.
We saw a woman sitting down
Upon a stone to rest ;
And another at her breast.
I asked her why she loitered there,
When the night-wind was so chill ; She turned her head, and bade the child
That screamed behind, be still ;
Then told us that her husband served,
A soldier, far away
Was begging back her way.
For silently stood he-
SOUTIEY. THE DWELLINGS OF THE POOR.
THERE's not a scene beneath God's dome
Where Wealth can stand and say, “Here Poverty shall never come,
While I preserve my sway.”
“I'll not have Labour here ;" For Rest itself would pine away
If Labour were not near.
Unto each other prove;
By binding both with love?
And much there is that runs to waste,
In palace and in hall, Would build for comfort, and with taste,
The labourer's cottage small ;-
And with new hopes begin
His store of books within ;
To make him feel himself A MAN,
With heart more pure and warm, When once he knew the better plan
To which he might conform ! “The poor are always with you,” said
Our Lord, when he was poor, And had not where to lay his head
From storm or heat secure;
“And inasmuch as unto them
Ye do the best ye may,
Dr. S. T. IIALL. BALLAD OF THE TEMPEST
We were crowded in the cabin,
Not a soul would dare to sleep-
And a storm was on the deep.
'Tis a fearful thing in winter
To be shattered by the blast,
Thunder, “Cut away the mast !"
So we shuddered there in silence ;
For the stoutest held his breath,
And the breakers talked with Death.
As thus we sat in darkness,
Each one busy in his prayers,
As he staggered down the stairs.
But his little daughter whispered,
As she took his icy hand, “ Isn't God upon the ocean,
Just the same as on the land ?”
Then we kissed the little maiden,
And we spoke in better cheer,
J. T. FIELDS.
THE SHIP ON FIRE.
THERE was joy in the ship as she furrowed the foam,