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THE

YOUTHS' MAGAZINE;

OR,

EVANGELICAL MISCELLANY.

OCTOBER, 1845.

TO MY DORMOUSE,

(In his cage.)
Round, and round, and round again!

Merry little ranger!
In that wiry prison pent,
Though thy lonely day be spent,
Thou art happy and content,
-Wanting other solacement-

To be free from danger.
Would that mortals knew so well

How to prize the blessing!
--Fainting, though the fervid sky
Whispers that their Rock is High;
And, when Faith forbids to fly,
Restless, with a Helper nigh

Needful strength possessing.
Be thy life one giddy whirl-

Be thy travel bootless-
Yet, vain man who would be wise,
Little need thy toil despise,
Whilst a like pursuit he plies,
Wasting all his energies

On a round as fruitless.

U

Cling and swing, and rattle on,

Blithe as any mummer!
Though an exile from thy nest,
Where the mournful dove finds rest,
And the fragrant fern is prest
By the leveret's beating breast,

Through the joyous summer.
Where the grass is high and green-

Where soft airs are blowingWhere the mossy oaks are spread, Gemmed with acorns, over head, Where thy fellows make their bed, Scared by no intrusive tread

Coming there, or going.
Care has schooled thee well; for though

Changed be thy condition-
Joyous, and at ease thou art,
Acting patiently thy part,
Bearing with an honest heart
All the bondage, and the smart

Of thy new position.
O! for patience liker thine !

All my path to brighten;
Then, though exiled here, indeed,
And to bonds and toil decreed;
God supplying all my need,
What, thus tended, could I plead

Toil or bonds to lighten?
Now--that merry game is o'er,

To thy rest repairing,
All the luxury of sleep,
Calm, oblivious, dreamless, deep,
Will thine o'ertasked senses steep,
While thy betters wake to weep,

Doubting or despairing.

Fickle, foolish, faithless heart!

To thy rest returning,
Canst thou find no sure repose
Calming life's tempestuous woes,
Such as trustful childhood knows,
When the parent's heart o'erflows,

For its offspring yearning ?
Yet the cords of mortal love

Change or Death may sever-
But thy God who comforts thee,
Bids us to His bosom flee,
And, though dark the waters be,
Sets us from Fear's bondage free,

Fully and for ever!

THE PARSON'S CHOICE MEMORIES.

CHAP. X.-THE FAITHFUL GRANDCHILD. Ir was in the humble dwelling of a country curate that the narrative was told, which I am about to present to the reader. It was related by an elderly clergyman, the vicar of a neighbouring parish; a mild and quiet man, and one to whom we had not given the credit for intelligence and piety which he richly deserved. He had seldom spoken much at our meetings, and was therefore little known in general society.

Having previously told us that he was prepared with a little history, which might tend to encourage such of our party as were too impatient to gather the fruits of their endeavors before the period when, by the pleasure of the Almighty, their development was complete – he thus proceeded.

We cannot, as ministers, of the Divine word,” he said, “ be too forcibly impressed with this solemn truth, and especially ought we to bring it to bear upon our minds, when we are called upon, as at this present time, to give an account of any sweet influences which seem to have proceeded from our ministry,) that the regeneration of an individual is a work as much above the power of man as the creation of a world ; and that, even

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where man seems to have been most influential in changing and reforming an evil nature, he is no more than the pencil in the hand of a skilful artist, and has no more merit in effecting the glorious work, than belonged to the pencil of Raphael in the development of those brilliant designs for which that delineator of angels is so renowned.

“It is now more than forty years since I was inducted to my present vicarage, hy which appointment, as my village is withdrawn amid much wild wooded scenery from the busy thoroughfare of the world in general, I was made to understand that my destiny was a retired life, and that if I desired peace, I must endeavor to cultivate such tastes as can be gratified in simple life.

“One of my principal pleasures at the commencement of my ministry, when in the full vigour of my youth, was to explore every nook and corner of my parish, which, though not populous, extends itself in various directions over a very irregular but rich surface. In the warmer seasons I used to take my Testament with me on these occasions, and often thus I studied my sermons for the ensuing Sunday.

“Having one Summer morning crossed over a small elevation covered with tangled copse wood, I saw on the opposite side several neat cottages in the narrow valley below me; these cottages were so beautifully interspersed with tall trees, and the grass on the banks on each side was so fresh, and there was such a singing of birds, and bleating of sheep, together with the merry voices of happy children, that I was thoroughly delighted ; and extending myself on the grass, under the shadow of a tree, I remained there some time, all the while meditating on my text, for which I was endeavoring to find parallel and elucidatory passages.

“ This hamlet was, I knew, in my parish ; but it was so conveniently near to a neighbouring church, the spire of which peeped up from the woods of the opposite bank ; that the inhabitants, especially the old and infirm, seldom got the length of their own parish church, for which, as I was well assured they heard the truth elsewhere, I saw no reason to blame them.

“Whilst I lay there, meditating on my text, and being drawn thereby more and more to the fuller reception of the mighty truth which it conveyed, I saw the door of one of the neatest

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