A DIVINER SUN.

F those refulgent beams of heaven's great light

Gild not the day, what is the day but night?

The drowsy shepherd sleeps; flowers bloom and

fade;

The birds are sullen, and the beasts are sad:

But if bright Titan dart his golden ray,

And with his riches glorify the day,

The jolly shepherd pipes; flowers freshly spring;
The beasts grow gamesome, and the birds all sing.
Thou art my sun, great God! O when shall I
View the full beams of Thy meridian eye?
Draw, draw this fleshly curtain, that denies
The gracious presence of Thy glorious eyes;
Or give me faith and, by the eye of grace
I shall behold Thee, though not face to face.
FRANCIS QUARLES.

THE HAPPINESS OF HEAVEN.

SONNET.

F, with such passing beauty, choice delights,

The Architect of this great round did frame

This palace visible, short lists of fame,

And failing mansion of poor dying wights; How many wonders, what amazing lights

Must that triumphant seat of glory claim,
That doth transcend all this All's vasty heights,
Of whose bright sun ours here is but a beam!
O blest abode! O happy dwelling-place!
Where visibly th' Invisible doth reign!
Blest people, who do see true Beauty's face,
Even in whose shadow mortals cannot 'plain :

All joy is but annoy, all concord strife,
Match'd with your endless bliss and happy life.

WM. DRUMMOND.

*

* Complain.

M

MORNING THOUGHTS.

HEN first thine eyes unveil, give thy soul leave

To do the like: our bodies but forerun

The spirit's duty :-true hearts spread and heave Unto their God, as flowers do to the sun.

Give Him thy first thoughts then: so shalt thou keep

Him company all day, and in Him sleep.

Yet never sleep the sun up: prayer should

Dawn with the day: there are set, awful hours 'Twixt Heaven and us: the manna was not good After sunrising: far day sullies flowers.

Rise to prevent the sun: sleep doth sins glut; And heaven's gate opens, when the world's is shut.

Wake with thy fellow-creatures; note the hush

And whisperings among them: not a spring Or leaf but hath his morning hymn; each bush And oak doth know I AM! Canst thou not sing? O leave thy cares and follies! go this way, And thou art sure to prosper all the day.

HENRY VAUGHAN.

THE CHILD'S DEATH.

E did but float a little way

Adown the stream of time;

With dreamy eyes watching the ripples play,

Or listening to their chime.

His slender sail

Scarce felt the gale:

He did but float a little way,
And, putting to the shore,
While yet 'twas early day,
Went calmly on his way,

To dwell with us no more.

No jarring did he feel,

No grating on his vessel's keel;
A strip of silver sand

Mingled the waters with the land,
Where he was seen no more:

O stern word, Never more!

Full short his journey was; no dust
Of earth unto his sandals clave;
The weary weight that old men must,
He bore not to the grave.

He seem'd a cherub who had lost his way,
And wander'd hither: so his stay

With us was short: and 'twas most meet

That he should be no delver in earth's clod, Nor need to pause and cleanse his feet

To stand before his God:

O blest word, Never more.

AUTHOR UNKNOWN.

IN ADAM ALL DIE.

SAW him dead, I saw his body fall Before death's dart, whom tears may not recall :

Yet is he not so dead, but that his day Might have been lengthen'd, had th' untrodden way To life been found: he might have rose again, If something had, or something had not, been. What mine sees past, God's eye foresaw to come ; He saw how that contingent act should sum The total of his days; His knowing eye

(As mine doth see him dead) saw he should die : He saw the great, the necessary death,

Yet not so firm decreed but that the breath