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Think no more of want and sorrow,
Who feeds to-day will feed to-morrow,
Learn from us, his kindness prove,
Join the chorus, God is Love.

God is Love, each flowret cries,
With o'erflowing, dewy eyes,
"Tends my wants from day to day,
Warms me with his sunny ray,
Feeds me with refreshing rain,
Cheers my failing strength again ;
Let such care to praises move-
Join the anthem, God is Love.

God is Love, my comforts

Every hour and every day ;
Food and knowledge, friends and home,
All from my Creator come ;
Blessings I each hour receive,
On his bounty still I live ;
By His care I breathe and move,
O forget not! God is Love.
God is Love: lo Calvary's hill,
Deeper love, develops still!
See th’ Incarnate Son of God
Sheds for man his precious blood,
Hell to conquer, death to slay,
Adam's sins to cleanse away :
Here its fullest truth we prove-

Glorious knowledge! God is Love.-
From 'Important Truths in Simple Verse,' 2nd Edition.


Mourn not the dead! earth's best and brightest flowers
Are only taken hence, to bloom again
In Heaven's eternal amaranthine bowers,
Far from this world of woe, and want, and pain.

Mourn not the dead.

Mourn not the dead, “The vacant chair” may stand
Unused, deserted, by thine own fireside;
But she who filled it, in the spirit-land
May claim a throne amongst the glorified.

Mourn not the dead.
Mourn not the dead, though desolate and lone
May seem the homes, where once they used to dwell ;
But if to Heavenly mansions they are gone,
Their rapturous bliss no mortal tongue may tell.

Mourn not the dead.
Mourn not the dead; why would ye have them here
Again to tread the pilgrim path of life?
In the celestial climes above, no tear
Can dim their eyes, as in this world of strife.

Mourn not the dead.
Mourn not the dead; for ye may meet again ;--
Faith, with uplifted finger, points the way,
Let not her gentle guidance be in vain,
'Twill lead thee on to realms of endless day.

Mourn not the dead.

ANNIE White.

“Some fell upon stony places,” Matt. xiii. 5.
“Some fell on stony ground;" and soon the seed

Made root, and sent up shoots rejoicingly,
Through the green Spring-time; but when o'er the mead,

From summer beavens, the sun shone fierce and high,
Oh, then, because it found not depth in need,

The stately plant shrank from the glowing sky, And parched, and withered, like a scentless weed,

A broken, wasted thing, bowed down to die ! Not so, my heart! should sceptred powers of earth

Sweep in their ire, our peaceful fanes away, Spreading dim silence o'er the pious hearth,

Where once the prayer was poured at shut of day; Not so: forget thou that Pure Fountain's worth, Whose streams shall yield thee strength to brave oppression's sway?


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VESUVIUS. The first eruption of this mountain described in history, took place in the year 79, during the reign of the Emperor Titus. Pliny, himself an eye-witness, has made us familiar with it. That eruption was supposed at the time to be the first that had ever occurred; but local traditions of much earlier date, indicate that the whole district was known to be volcanic during the mythic ages of the Greeks.

The destruction of Pompeii and Herculaneum which occurred at the period referred to, did not, as might have been expected, operate as a warning to after ages, and though numerous eruptions of greater or less violence took place subsequently, they failed to prevent the erection of the city of Ottaiano, at the foot of the mountain of Somna, close to Vesuvius. Of the eruption which proved fatal to that city, Sir W. Hamilton, ambassador to the Sicilian court in 1766, has left us a painfully interesting account. Our engraving represents the eruption of last August.

“On the morning of the 1st,” says the Athenæum, “the wells at Portici, and other localities in the same neighbour


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