There's none can give where thou deny'st. Alas! fond world, thou boasts; false world, thou ly'st.

What well-advised ear regards
What earth can say ?

Thy words are gold, but thy rewards
Are painted clay :

Thy cunning can but pack the cards,
Thou canst not play:

Thy game at weakest, still thou vy'st;
If seen, and then revy'd, deny'st:

Thou art not what thou seem'st; false world, thou ly'st.

Thy timid bosom seems a mint

Of new-coin'd treasure;

A paradise, that has no stint,

No change, no measure;

A painted cask, but nothing in't,

Nor wealth, nor pleasure:

Vain earth! that falsely thus comply'st

With man; vain man! that thou rely'st

On earth, vain man, thou dot'st; vain earth, thou ly'st.

What mean dull souls, in this high measure,
To haberdash

To earth's base wares, whose greatest treasure
Is dross and trash?

The height of whose enchanting pleasure
Is but a flash?

Are these the goods that thou supply'st
Us mortals with? are these the high'st?

Can these bring cordial peace? false world, thou

ly'st.

F. QUARLES.

ALL THE ANGELS STOOD ABOUT

THE THRONE.

(HERE is no night in heaven:
In that blest world above
Work never can bring weariness,
For work itself is love.
There is no night in heaven:
Yet nightly round the bed
Of every Christian wanderer
Faith has an angel tread.

There is no grief in heaven:
For life is one glad day,

And tears are of those former things
Which all have passed away.
There is no grief in heaven:
Yet angels from on high

On golden pinions earthward glide,
The Christian's tears to dry.

There is no want in heaven:
The Lamb of God supplies
Life's tree of twelvefold fruitage still,

Life's spring which never dries.
There is no want in heaven:
Yet in a desert land

The fainting prophet was sustained
And fed by angel's hand.

There is no sin in heaven: Behold that blesséd throng; All holy is their spotless robe, All holy is their song.

There is no sin in heaven: Here who from sin is free? Yet angels aid us in our strife For Christ's true liberty.

There is no death in heaven: For they who gain that shore Have won their immortality, And they can die no more. There is no death in heaven: But, when the Christian dies, The angels wait his parting soul, And waft it to the skies.

THE LAMB IS THE LIGHT THEREOF.

(HAT clime is not like this dull clime

of ours;

All, all is brightness there;

A sweeter influence breathes around its flowers,

And a benigner air.

No calm below is like that calm above,

No region here is like that realm of love; Earth's softest spring ne'er shed so soft a light, Earth's brightest summer never shone so bright.

That sky is not like this sad sky of ours,
Tinged with earth's change and care:

No shadow dims it, and no rain-cloud lowers :
No broken sunshine there:

One everlasting stretch of azure pours

Its stainless splendour o'er those sinless shores: For there Jehovah shines with heavenly ray, And Jesus reigns dispensing endless day.