Then, for a moment, flitted o'er his face
A look of eager hope, of joy to think
That all those brilliant treasures might be his.
Too soon it passed, and o'er his sunny face
A dark shade fell once more, a troubled look,
That, to my fancy, seemed as though it said,
"How many weary hours must pass away
Ere I can reach those sunny glades! Perchance
Dangers may lurk, concealed, beside my path;
The serpent, with his poisoned fang may hide
Beneath the flowers; or, if it be not so,

Weary and footsore I must surely be

Ere I can reach the end." While thus he mused,
And idly stood to grieve o'er coming ills,
The sun had set: but the child marked it not,
Till, startled by the shadows gathering round,
He turned in haste, that, ere the light had fled
And Night come on, he might, at least, have culled
The blossoms near him,—but, alas! too late.
Their beauty faded with the sun's decline,

And when, with eager, trembling hands, he grasped
Those flowers, erewhile so bright, he found, alas,
He grasped but withered stems.-The darkness fell!
Then, through the silence of those forest depths
Echoed a bitter cry of childish grief;

And with the cry I woke.-'Twas but a dream!
As home I turned I mused upon the scene,
And musing, thus my heart in warning spake :-
"Mortal, learn hence, the present time alone

Is thine, the Future and the Past are God's ;
Leave them to Him; waste not, in vain regrets,

The time He gives thee now. Nor, brooding, grieve
O'er future ills, o'er dangers yet to come;

Thou hast no power to change them if thou wouldst :

Trust all to God, assured, whate'er betides,
Since 'tis His will, is best. And, for thyself,
Use thou thy best endeavours to improve
The Present, which is thine, that when it flies
Into the Past, the irrevocable Past,
Into thy Maker's hands, He may not find
The gift He gave thee to improve, return

Empty and void as when He gave it thee,

Or stained with deeds, that, when once past and gone,
Can never be undone. Mortal, work on ;

Work while the daylight lasts-Time swiftly flies;
Work, lest the night come, and the darkness fall
Ere thy allotted task be done."

THE WIND.

WHENCE Come ye, mighty winds, whose giant power
Bows the dark forest, shakes the mountain tops,
And lashes into foam old Ocean's billows,

Making men's hearts to tremble at the sound
Of your fierce revelry ?-say, whence come ye?
And whither go ye? 'Mid the rushing blast

Is heard a voice," Forth from the throne of God
We come, our errand high to do His will,

And thither, when our mission here is ended,
Thither shall we return." The storm hath sunk,

And the soft breezes whisper lovingly,

Like rustling angel wings, murmuring, "We come,

Or in our wrath, or in our gentleness,

Alike to do His will, whose name is Love."