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My father read this Holy Book

To brothers, sisters dear;
How calm was my poor mother's look,

Who leaned God's word to hear!
Her angel face-I see it yet!

What thronging memories come! Again that little group is met

Within the halls of home!

Thou truest friend man ever knew,

Thy constancy I've tried;
Where all were false I found thee true,

My counsellor and guide.
The mines of earth no treasures give

That could this volume buy:
In teaching me the way to live,
It taught me how to die.

G. P. MORRIS.

ON GUARD.

At midnight, on my lonely beat,

When shadow wraps the wood and lea, A vision seems my view to greet

Of one at home that prays for me.

No roses bloom upon her cheek

Her form is not a lover's dreamBut on her face, so fair and meek,

A host of holier beauties gleam.

For softly shines her silver hair,

A patient smile is on her face,
And the mild, lustrous light of prayer,

Around her sheds a moon-like grace.

She prays for one that's far away,

The soldier in his holy fight-
And begs that Heaven in mercy may

Protect her boy and bless the Right !

Till, though the leagues lie far between,

This silent incense of her heart Steals o'er my soul with breath serene,

And we no longer are apart.

So guarding thus my lonely beat,

By shadowy wood and haunted lea, That vision seems my view to greet, Of her at home who prays for me.

ANON.

TRUST IN GOD, AND DO THE RIGHT.

COURAGE, brother! do not stumble,

Though thy path be dark as night; There's a star to guide the humble ;“Trust in God, and do the right.”

Let the road be rough and dreary,

And its end far out of sight, Foot it bravely! strong or weary,

“ Trust in God, and do the right.”

Perish policy and cunning!

Perish all that fears the light! Whether losing, whether winning,

“ Trust in God, and do the right."

Trust no party, sect, or faction ;

Trust no leaders in the fight; But in every word and action,

“Trust in God, and do the right."

Trust no lovely forms of passion,

Fiends may look like angels bright"; Trust no custom, school, or fashion,

“Trust in God, and do the right.” Simple rule, and safest guiding,

Inward peace, and inward might, Star upon our path abiding,

“Trust in God, and do the right.”

Some will hate thee, some will love thee,

Some will flatter, some will slight: Cease from man, and look above thee,* Trust in God, and do the right."

Rev. X. II ACLS.D.

THE LAST DAY.
Great God, what do I see and hear!

The end of things created:
The Judge of mankind doth appear,

On clouds of glory seated!
The trumpet sounds—the graves restore
The dead which they contained before!

Prepare, my soul, to meet Him.

The dead in Christ shall first arise,

At the last trumpet's sounding,Caught up to meet Him in the skies,

With joy their Lord surroundiny. No gloomy fears their souls dismay; IIis presence sheds eternal day

On those prepared to meet Him.

But sinners filled with guilty fears

Behold his wrath prevailing;
For they shall rise and find their tears

And sighs are unavailing:
The day of grace is past and gone-
Trembling they stand before the throne,

All unprepared to meet Him.

Great God, what do I see and hear!

The end of things created !
The Judge of mankind doth appear,

On clouds of glory seated !
Low at His cross I'll view the day
When heaven and earth shall pass awar,

And thus prepare to meet Him.

LUTHER.

THE HOUR OF DEATH.

LEAVES have their time to fall,
And flowers to wither at the North-wind's breath,

And stars to set—but all,
Thou hast all seasons for thine own, O Death!

Day is for mortal care;
Eve for glad meetings round the joyous hearth;

Night for the dreams of sleep, the voice of prayer; But all for thee, thou Mightiest of the Earth!

The banquet hath its hour,
Its feverish hour of mirth, and song, and wine;

There comes a day for Grief's o'erwhelming power, A time for softer tears—but all are thine!

Youth and the opening rose
May look like things too glorious for decay,

And smile at thee; but thou art not of those
That wait the ripened bloom to seize their prey!

Leaves have their time to fall,
And flowers to wither at the North-wind's breath,

And stars to set-but all,
Thou hast all seasons for thine own, O Death!

We know when moons shall wane,
When Summer birds from far shall cross the sea,

When Autumn's hue shall tinge the golden grain ; But who shall teach us when to look for thee?

Is it when Spring's first gale
Comes forth to whisper where the violets lie?

Is it when roses in our paths grow pale?
They have one season--all are ours to die!

Thou art where billows foam,
Thou art where music melts upon the air;

Thou art around us in our peaceful home; And the world calls us forth—and thou art there.

Thou art where friend meets friend, Beneath the shadow of the elm to rest;

Thou art where foe meets foe, and trumpets rend The skies, and swords beat down the princely crest.

Leaves have their time to fall,
And flowers to wither at the North-wind's breath,

And stars to set—but all,
Thou hast all seasons for thine own, O Death!

HEMANS.

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