Therefore free from every pain,
Now in radiant realms above,
With their Lord they ever reign,
Fill'd with holiness and love.

Therefore now their grief is o'er,
Every tear is wip'd away;

Now their praise shall cease no more ;
God is with them night and day.

While eternity endures,

While the Self-Existent lives,

He their perfect bliss secures,

Everlasting glory gives.

T. CHALLIS.

HOME.

THERE is a land, of every land the pride,
Belov'd by Heaven o'er all the world beside;
Where brighter suns dispense serener light,
And milder moons emparadise the night;
A land of beauty, virtue, valour, truth,
Time-tutor'd age, and love-exalted youth:
The wandering mariner, whose eye explores

The wealthiest isles, the most enchanting shores,

Views not a realm, so bountiful and fair,

Nor breathes the spirit of a purer air;

In every clime the magnet of his soul,

Touch'd by remembrance, trembles to that pole; For in this land of Heaven's peculiar grace,

The heritage of nature's noblest race,

There is a spot of earth supremely blest,
A dearer, sweeter spot than all the rest,
Where man, creation's tyrant, casts aside
His sword and sceptre, pageantry and pride,
While in his soften'd looks benignly blend
The sire, the son, the husband, brother, friend;
Here woman reigns; the mother, daughter, wife,
Strew with fresh flowers the narrow way of life!
In the clear heaven of her delightful eye,
An angel-guard of loves and graces lie;
Around her knees domestic duties meet,
And fire-side pleasures gambol at her feet.
Where shall that land, that spot of earth be found?
Art thou a man ?—a patriot ?—look around;
O, thou shalt find, howe'er thy footsteps roam,
That land thy country, and that spot thy Home.

MONTGOMERY.

WHERE IS GOD?

WHERE is He? Ask his emblem

The glorious, glorious sun,

Who glads the round world with his beams

Ere his day's long course is run.

Where is He? Ask the stars that keep

Their nightly watch on high.

Where is He? Ask the pearly dews

The tear drops of the sky.

Where is He? Ask the secret founts
That feed the boundless deep,

The dire simoon, or the soft night breeze
That lulls the earth to sleep.

Where is He? Ask the storm of fire

That bursts from Etna's womb,

And ask the glowing lava flood

That makes the earth a tomb.

Where is He? Ask the Malstrom's whirl

Shivering tall pines like glass;

Ask the giant oak, the graceful flower,
Or the simplest blade of glass.

Where is He? Ask the Behemoth

That drinketh rivers dry;

The ocean king Leviathan,

Or the scarce seen atom fly.

Where is He? Ask the awful calm

On mountain tops that rests,

And the bounding threatening avalanche

Rent from the rugged crests.

Ask the wide wasting hurricane,

Careering in its might;

The thunder crash, the lightning blaze,

Earth all convulsed with fright.

Where is He? Ask the crystal isles

On arctic seas that sail,

Or ask from lands of balm and spice
The perfume breezing gale.

Where in the Universe is found

That presence favour'd spot?

All, all proclaim his dwelling place,
But say where is He not?

SPEAK GENTLY.

SPEAK gently!-It is better far
To rule by love than fear;
Speak gently-let not harsh words mar
The good we might do here.

Speak gently-Love doth whisper low
The vows that true hearts bind;
And gently Friendship's accents flow,-
Affection's voice is kind.

Speak gently to the little child,

Its love be sure to gain;
Teach it, in accents soft and mild :
It may not long remain.

Speak gently to the young, for they

Will have enough to bear;

Pass through this life as best they may, "Tis full of anxious care.

Speak gently to the aged one,

Grieve not the careworn heart;

The sands of life are nearly run,
Let such in peace depart.

Speak gently, kindly to the poor,-
Let no harsh tone be heard:

They have enough they must endure,
Without an unkind word!

Speak gently to the erring-know,
They may have toiled in vain,
Perchance unkindness made them so;
Oh, win them back again!

THE USE OF FLOWERS.

GOD might have made the earth bring forth
Enough for great and small,

The oak tree and the cedar tree,
Without a flower at all.

God might have made enough-enough

For every want of ours,
For luxury, medicine, and toil,

And yet have made no flowers.

The clouds might give abundant rain,
The nightly dews might fall;
And the herb that keepeth life in man,
Might yet have drunk them all,

Then wherefore, wherefore were they made, All dyed with rainbow light?

All fashioned with supremest grace,

Upspringing day and night?