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Drop thou a tear, and take the last adieu,
Before she sinks for ever from thy view.

Hail, glorious Sun! sole monarch of the day,
Who shines unrival'd in the aeriel way:
Shall thy bright beams be veiled in endless night?
And shall these eyes no more behold thy light?
Oft hast thou, when in childhood's opening dawn,
Tempted my feet across the dewy lawn;
Or, when the little bark has crossed the stream,
Have gazed with pleasure on thy golden beam.
Still lovelier thou appear'd when Calvary groan'd,
And the Great Saviour of mankind aton'd;
Behind a sable cloud thou didst retire,

Nor would behold thy glorious Lord expire.
Thou silver moon, that shed'st a glimmering light,
To sooth the horrors of the wintry night,-
The sweeping blast shall hurl thee from thy car,
When JESUS calls the nations to his bar.

Ye glittering stars, that sparkle in your spheres,
Ye soon shall tumble midst the wreck of years,
When the last trumpet wakes each vital soul,
And heaven is wrapt together like a scroll.
Behold, the sleeping dust springs forth to life!
The faithful husband meets the loving wife;
Like kindred spirits they forsake the clod,

And fly athwart the heavens to meet their God.
But hark! that awful crash, the world expires!
The mighty ocean from its bed retires!
The lofty mountains change their threatening form,
And tumble headlong mid the general storm!

My soul, with joy anticipate the day

When thou to brighter worlds shall soar away Up through the sky, on angel's pinions borne, To view the wonders of that happy morn!

JAMES HILL.

ON VISITING THE DAIRYMAID'S
GRAVE.

BENEATH this heap, where the cold sod
Waves in the wind its tender blade,
Lie sleeping, in their dark abode,
The ashes of the "Dairymaid."

There let them lie till that great day,
When time shall droop his weary wing;
Then shall they rise in rich array,

And bloom through one eternal spring.

Alas! no more her honest smile

Shall cheer yon little rustic cot;
No more the passing hours beguile
With useful toil, and serious thought.
Oft would she, with a theme divine,
Her parents' aged bosoms warm;
Kind actions with her precepts join,
And aid them in their little farm.

But oh! the cold chill blast of death,
Soon swept her from her earthly home;
But undismay'd she yields her breath,
And nobly triumphs o'er the tomb.

She faintly smiled, then closed her eyes,
To her the welcome call was given;

She took the chariot of the skies,
And and like Elijah rose to heaven.

No more these pleasant fields she'll roam,
The blackbird's cheerful notes to hear;
Far sweeter flowers, and joyful tones,
Delight her soul, and charm her ear.

Oh! how the prospect charms my soul,
To think that I, among the rest,
In that eternal sphere shall roll,
And join the anthems of the blest.

Be this my hope, be this my care,

Far from my thoughts vain world be driven; That, when I end life's short career,

My soul may take its flight to heaven!

JAMES HILI..

THE NEW SABBATH SCHOLAR.

THE Teacher often told us all
That we were born in sin;
And bid us on the Saviour call,
For none could save like him.

He dwelt on all his precious love,
And death upon the tree;
And how he lives, and pleads above,
For children young as we.

He told us how the world was made,
And all creation wide;

The morning light and evening shade,
And many a thing beside.

We listen'd to the wondrous tale,
As it appeared to be,-

And thought that none on hill or dale
Were half so wise as he.

O sure, thinks I, I'll never miss
One single Sabbath day;
For 'tis a precious season this,
To learn, and praise, and pray.

With joyful heart, I gaily tript
Towards our little cot,

And there related, while I wept,
How happy was my lot!

My parents bade me always mind
Whate'er my teachers say,
And then the profit I should find
Upon some future day.

So off I went, and tried to learn
For many Sabbath days;
Nor fail'd, as I could well discern,
To gain my teacher's praise.

From class to class I upward rose,
And was rewarded too;

Till I was told my time must close,
And we must say "Adieu."

It came, I wept, and inly sigh'd,
To think that we must part:
They gave a Bible for my guide,—
I press'd it to my heart.

This book I read, and o'er it prayed;
When, to my grief, I found

That I had wandered far away,
Upon forbidden ground.

Conflicting thoughts oppress'd my mind,
Like billows mounting high;
But when I knew the Saviour mine
My grief was turned to joy.

And now I'll praise Him while I live,

For all his love to me;

My life and all that I can give,

To him devoted be!

And may my head, and hands, and heart,

Forget their wonted rule,

If I should ever once forget,

My much lov'd Sabbath School.

THE SABBATH SCHOLARS' SONG.

Air. "From Greenlands icy mountains."

I AM a Sabbath Scholar,

I'll chant my cheerful lay,
More happy than a Monarch,
Upon the Sabbath day;
My Bible is my treasure,
My School is my delight,
My heart is fill'd with pleasure
From realms of endless light.

Redemption, O! Redemption,
From satan's dark domains,
We'll sing for this redmption
On Salem's boundless plains.

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