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THE GOSPEL MENTOR.

How does the spirit bounding, free,
Exult in new-found liberty!

Such was thy gladdening task on earth,
To foster the celestial birth—

To teach the soul how light divine
Does in its inner chambers shine,
To trace The Rise and Progress there,
Of heavenly grace, bedewed with prayer,
Which quickens or which sooths the while,
By God's dread frown or favouring smile.
And thou hadst learned with pure desire,
To touch the strings of Judah's lyre,
'Twas thine in measured strains, to sing
Salvation and her glorious King,
Whilst truth's own signet lives to bless
Thy strains of truth and tenderness.
Then at thy close, when life's last sun,
The horizon gained,-his circuit run,-
From earth declines-our eyes behold
Where clouds of amber and of gold-
A fair pavilion in the sky,
Receive his parting radiancy;
Where, through a sea of living light,
His glories vanish from our sight,

To rise in new resplendent dress,

And meet the Lord, thy righteousness.

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"But the path of the just is as the shining light, that shineth more and

more unto the perfect day."-PROV. iv. 18.

"Then shall the righteous shine forth as the sun in the kingdom of their Father. Who hath ears to hear, let him hear.”—MATT. xiii. 43.

HEBE.

LIKE to the babbling rill

That softly flows,

And murmuring wanders at its own sweet will,
Where blooms the rose ;

Like to the linnet's note
When skies are clear,

Or like the robin's silver throat

In winter sere;

Like nature's own sweet flower,
Forget me not,"

That haunts accustomedly in summer hour,

Each well-known spot;

Like golden broom and ling

That blossom free,

And win the smile that greets each gentle thing— With amity.

Like to the thoughts that dwell

Within the breast,

Whilst they the harmony of feeling tell,
And quiet rest;

Like the remembered hours

Of love and youth,

Of sweet companionship in friendship's bowers,

Of peace and truth;

Like each glad thing and fair

That earth can give;

Which bids us in her furnished banquet share,

And joy receive;

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A spirit greets mine ear,
A form I see,

A genius all to taste and feeling dear,
That smiles on me.

Welcome the glorious light
That God hath given!

The beams of intellect with radiance bright,
Descend from heaven.

Not all, not all of earth

Let poets tell;

There is a land of pure celestial birth,
Where seraphs dwell.

There is a Saviour risen

Our hearts to cheer ;

Yes, He hath soared aloft from this dark prison

He is not here:

For He hath burst these bands,

This house of clay,

And pleading for His people, now He stands

In heaven's own day.

Redeemer! Saviour! King!

We bless Thy name;

Whilst we well-pleased, thy glorious praise would sing,

Thy power proclaim.

Honor and thanks and praise

Oh Lord, to Thee,

Shall every lip and tongue in concert raise

Eternally.

"That at the name of Jesus every knee should bow, of things in heaven, and things in earth, and things under the earth; and that every tongue should confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father."PHIL. ii. 10, 11.

H

THE NIGHTINGALE OF THE CHURCH.

A MILD and polished courtier! who attends
Upon his Master's call-and serves His friends;
Well used to wait His bidding, and supply
The Prince's cup of joy and charity :-
How blest is such a service, for 'tis sweet
The face of such a favouring Lord to greet.

He seeks the presence-chamber, and 'tis there
He pours his soul's request in fervent prayer,-
He fain would touch the sceptre-like that Queen
Who walked in eastern courts with gracious mien,
Commissioned by her sovereign-sent to bless
His remnant church amid the wilderness.
Such was thy high commission, saintly bard!
Instructed in the counsels of thy Lord;

Whilst thou didst guard His oracles, and shed
The light of truth, where night's dark wing was spread,
Thy mind was clothed in beauty, and thine eye
Surveyed the shores of immortality;

Sin marred thy soul's complacence—themes divine
And heavenly musings fill'd that breast of thine.

Now from the thorny paths of life withdrawn,
We see thee to thy home of blessing gone,
And there in shelter from the world's dark frown,
Bowers of domestic bliss thy presence own.

Thou gentle nurse! beside that cradle bed,

Thy hand could softly sooth the infant's head,

And rock him to repose-thy book the while,

Made scenes of peace like these, with moral culture smile : There to thy cherished loves, thy breast supplies

The current of its own sweet charities;

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