We court love's thrilling dart; And when we think our joys supreme, We find it's rapture but a dream,

Its boon a wounded heart.

We pant for glittering Fame; And when pale Envy blots the page, That might have charm'd a future age, We find 'tis but a name.

We toil for paltry ore; And when we gain the golden prize, And death appears-with aching eyes,, We view the useless store.

How frail is beauty's bloom,

The dimpled cheek, the sparkling eye; Scarce seen before their wonders fly, To decorate a tomb.

Then since this fleeting breath

Is but a zephyr of a day,

Let conscience make each minute gay,

And brave the shafts of death.

And let the generous mind

With pity view the erring throng ; Applaud the right, forgive the wrong,

And feel for all mankind.

For who, alas! shall say,
To-morrow's sun shall warmer glow;
And o'er this gloomy vale of woe,
Diffuse a brighter ray.

Human Frailty.

Borghes

WEAK and irresolute is man;
The purpose of to-day,
Woven with pains into his plan,
To-morrow rends away.

The bow well bent, and smart the spring,
Vice seems already slain;
But passion rudely snaps the string,
And it revives again.

Some foe to his upright intent

Finds out his weaker part;

Virtue engages his assent,

But pleasure wins his heart.

'Tis here the folly of the wise

Through all his art we view ;

And, while his tongue the charge denies,
His conscience owns it true.

Bound on a voyage of awful length
And dangers little known,
A stranger to superior strength,
Man vainly trusts his own:

But oars alone can ne'er prevail

To reach the distant coast;
The breath of heaven must swell the sail,
Or all the toil is lost.

Praise for the Blessings of the
Gospel.

AWAKE, my, muse, awake and sing
The praises of thy heavenly King;
Awake and join the sacred throng,
The Saviour's love demands thy song:

In grateful strains attune thy lyre,
And emulate th' Angelic choir;
Loudly the joyful news proclaim,
Salvation, is in Jesus' name!
Salvation! shout the glorious sound,
Proclaim it to the world around.
Tell very fearful trembling soul,

The Saviour's word shall make him whole;
Invite the indigent to come,

Jesus declares there still is room:

Jesus! that name shall calm their fears,
Dispel their doubts and dry their tears ;
Shall ease the anxious throbbing breast,
And give the weary mourner rest :—
Jesus! my Prophet, Priest, and King!
To him in grateful strain I'll sing;
I'll praise him whilst I have my breath,
And when my voice is lost in death,
O may my happy spirit rise

To join the chorus in the skies!

God manifest in his Works.

GREAT is our God :—His works of might

To praise his glorious name unite;
Heaven, earth, and sea, confess his hand,
And wait, obedient, his command.

His hand, unseen, sustains the poles,
On which the vast creation rolls;
The starry skies proclaim his power;
His pencil glows in every flower.

In various shapes and colors, rise
Ten thousand wonders to our eyes;
And beasts and birds, with lab'ring throat,
Teach us of God in every note.

Across the waves, around the sky,
There's not a place, or deep or high,
Where the Creator has not trod,
And left the footsteps of a God.