FORGIVE!

O GOD! my sins are manifold, against my life they

cry,

And all my guilty deeds foregone, up to Thy temple

fly;

Wilt Thou release my trembling soul, that to despair is driven?

"Forgive!" a blessed voice replied, "and thou shalt be forgiven!"

My foemen, Lord! are fierce and fell, they spurn me in their pride,

They render evil for my good, my patience they deride; Arise, O King! and be the proud to righteous ruin

Seven times, O Lord! I pardon'd them, seven times they sinn'd again;

They practise still to work me woe, they triumph in my pain ;

But let them dread my vengeance now, to just resent

66

ment driven !

66

Forgive!" the voice of thunder spake, or never be forgiven !"

BISHOP HEBER, 1783-1826.

MY OWN TRUE-HEARTED WIFE!

I SIT beside my gentle one:

Her hand is laid in mine;

And thus we watch the parting sun

In golden haze decline.

Across the fields the shadows creep,

And up the misty hill;

And we our twilight vigils keep,
At our own cottage-sill.

The distant brooklet's murmurs come, Like bell-notes through the leaves; And many an insect's mazy hum

Its dreamy music weaves.

The dove's last note, in rippling beats,
Upon the air departs;

The breath of all our garden sweets
Is creeping to our hearts.

The russet woodbine round our porch
In clustering ringlets twines;
The honeysuckle's crimson torch
Gleams through the dusty vines;
The sunset rays are trembling now
Amid the trellis-bars-

They paint upon my darling's brow
A glory like the stars.

Her cheek is nestling on my breast,
Her eyes are bright with tears;
A prayer, half-breathed and half-represt,
My listening spirit hears.

Oh! blessed be the changeless love
That glorifies my life!

All doubt, all fear, all guile above—
My own true-hearted wife!

-American Miscellany.

CHARITY TRIUMPHANT.

DID sweeter sounds adorn my flowing tongue,
Than ever man pronounced, or angel sung;
Had I all knowledge, human and divine,
That thought can reach, or science can define;
And had I power to give that knowledge birth,
In all the speeches of the babbling earth;
Did Shadrach's zeal my glowing breast inspire,
To weary tortures, and rejoice in fire;
Or had I faith like that which Israel saw,
When Moses gave them miracles and law;
Yet, gracious Charity, indulgent guest,
Were not thy power exerted in my breast,
Those speeches would send up unheeded prayer ;
That scorn of life would be but wild despair;
A tymbal's sound were better than my voice;
My faith were form; my eloquence were noise :

Charity, decent, modest, easy, kind,

Softens the high, and rears the abject mind;
Knows with just reins and gentle hand to guide,
Betwixt vile shame and arbitrary pride.
Not soon provoked, she easily forgives;
And much she suffers, as she much believes.
Soft peace she brings wherever she arrives;
She builds our quiet, as she forms our lives;
Lays the rough paths of peevish nature even,
And opens in each heart a little heaven.

Each other gift, which God on man bestows, Its proper bounds, and due reflection knows; To one fix'd purpose dedicates its power, And finishing its act, exists no more. Thus, in obedience to what Heaven decrees, Knowledge shall fail, and prophecy shall cease; But lasting Charity's more ample sway, Nor bound by Time, nor subject to decay,

In happy triumph shall for ever live,

And endless good diffuse, and endless praise receive.

As through the artist's intervening glass, Our eye observes the distant planets pass; A little we discover; but allow,

That more remains unseen than art can show ;

So while our mind its knowledge would improve, (Its feeble eye intent on things above,)

High as we may, we lift our reason up,

By Faith directed, and confirm'd by Hope;

Yet are we able only to survey

Dawnings of beams, and promises of day.

Heaven's fuller influence mocks our dazzled sight,
Too great its swiftness, and too great its light.

But soon the mediate cloud shall be dispell'd;
The sun shall soon be face to face beheld,
In all his robes, with all his glory on,
Seated sublime on his meridian throne.

Then constant Faith, and holy Hope shall die,
One lost in certainty, and one in joy ;
Whilst thou more happy power, fair Charity,
Triumphant sister, greatest of the three,
Thy office and thy nature still the same,
Lasting thy lamp, and unconsumed thy flame,
Shalt still survive

Shalt stand before the host of heaven confess'd,
For ever blessing, and for ever bless'd.

MATTHEW PRIOR, 1664-1721.

FRIENDSHIP DEFINED.

LOVE, nature's plot, this great creation's soul,
The being and the harmony of things,
Doth still preserve and propagate the whole,

From whence man's happiness and safety springs :