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He is our first and greatest friend,
Our mercies all from Him descend,

His providence their stream;
Our life, and health, and mental powers,
Our bibles, teachers, sabbath hours,

All point us up to Him.

To Him then, may our praises rise,
For blessings which we fail to prize,

As to be priz'd they vught;
And teach us, Lord, thy throne to address,
That on our minds thou wouldst impress

The truths which we are taught.

The gospel on our hearts engrave,
Its power that we may know, to save

From error's crooked way,
From Satan's deep-laid, varied snare,
The world's alluring, empty glare,

And folly's evil sway.
In mercy Lord, thou dost delight-
Then let thy gentle mercy's might,

Our spirits humble make;
Bid sin's dominion o'er us cease,
And lead us in the way of peace,

For Christ the Saviour's sake.

To us let all thy grace abound,
That after death we may be found

Amongst the blest above;
Then never will we cease to praiso,
In noble, sweet, triumphant lays,

The power of saving love.

SABBATH-SCHOOL ANNIVERSARY.

Dear TEACHERS, now we you address,-
Though fully we can ne'er express

How much to you we owe;
The zeal you for our good display,
Your labour, care, and prayers, repay

We never can, we know.
Yet our acknowledgements we make,
For all the anxious pains you take,

Our youthful minds to guide;
On you may God all good bestow,
That your appointed days below,

In sweetest peace may glide.
The Lord your work of faith” succeed,
And from our number raise a seed,

Who, when to rest you're gone,
May wisely, in your stead, supply
As instruments, to multiply

Disciples to his Son.
Kind PATRONS now assembl'd here,
Our Anniversary to cheer,

Your favours to renew
To you, for every kindness shewn,
And gifts into our treasury thrown,

Our gratitude is due.
Our thanks accept for all the past,
Yet once again we beg to taste,

The fruit of your regard ;
Our funds re-stock, and we will pray,
You may find mercy in that day,

And God your love reward !
Bilston.

W. H. B.

SABBATH SCHOOL ANNIVERSARY,

AT HUAHINE, IN THE SOUTH SEAS. Yes: here they have their Anniversaries. At one of these the little islanders acquitted themselves most creditably, and showed their acquaintance with the principles of the Christian religion, to the surprise and gratification of all. Nor could their neat appearance escape notice. After whole chapters, portions of catechism, and various hymns, had been recited, some books as rewards were distributed, which added not a little to the interest of the occasion ;—particularly in the instance of one scholar, a boy, who, for his diligence and good conduct, received the Gospel of St. Matthew bound in morocco. From amidst the admiring multitude stepped forth this child : with beating heart and smiling face, he reached out his hand to take the book, put it into his bosom, and could hardly return to his seat, his little heart was full

It was a scene in which it was hard to tell whether children or parents shared the most pleasure ;—but there was one present, ther,-in whose sad countenance was depicted the deepest grief, now suppressed by covering her face with a cloth, and wringing her hands amidst heavy sighing and sobbing, till, overcome by the emotions of her soul, it burst forth in touching exclamations. Oh, that God had sooner taken away our hard hearts! Oh, that

of joy.

-a mo

TO THE FURZE BLOOM.

the light of his word had sooner come to these islands,—then my poor, poor child had not been gone,-she too might have been here to-day !” This woman

once had a daughter, and had offered her as a sacrifice to the idols of the Islands, previous to the Gospel being made known to them by the missionaries.

TO THE FURZE BLOOM.
Thor fearless flower ! I hail thee,

Whose beauties ever glow;
When winter storms assail thee,

Thou bloom'st 'midst frost and snow.
While each revolving season

Alternate change their name,
There sure must be a reason

Why thou art still the same.
For thou retain'st thy glory

When Nature seems to sigh,
And other flowers grow hoary,

And droop, and fall, and die.
Now, since thon do'st enquire,

Perhaps I may impart
An emblem of that fire,

Which warms the Christian's heart.
That bliss-inspiring motion,

Which moves within his breast, -
That smoothes life's troubled ocean,

And lulls his fears to rest.
Alike, when prospects brighten
Beneath a cloudless sky,--

Or adverse storms affrighten,

And worldly comforts fly.
Still heaven-born Hope is vernal,

It never can decay;
But points to days eternal,

Beyond life's transient day.
Then, little flower, I'll love thee,

Since thou hast answer'd well;
No flower shall be above thee, -

Not one shall thee excel.

S. S.

THE TIDY GIRL. Who is it each day in the week may be seen, With her hair short and smooth, and her hands and

face clean; In a stout cotton gown, of dark and light blue, Though old, so well mended, you'd take it for new; Her handkerchief tidily pinn'd o'er her neck, With a neat little cap, and an apron of check; No great flouncing border, no ragged old lace, But an hem neatly plaited, sits close round her face; Her top coat of stuff, and an under of serge, Without one hole or rip, either little or large; Her shoes and her stockings all sound and all clean, She's never fine outside, and dirty within. Go, visit her cottage, tho' humble and poor, 'Tis so neat and so clean, you might eat off the floor; No rubbish, no cobwebs, no dirt could be found, Tho' you hunt ev'ry corner, and search all around. Who sweeps it so nicely, who makes all the bread, Who tends her sick mother, and works by her bed? 'Tis the neat tidy girl, she needs no other name, Abroad, or at home, she's always the same.

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