Into the brightness, o'er the cloud,
I can but trace his quivering flight;
Is he, that tuneful pilgrim, (10) vowed

To visit yonder world of light?
No 'tis a creature formed by God
To share the heavens and the sod.

His home is on the dewy earth,
His joy is in the heavens to be;
Oh! with a soul of heavenly birth

May this his lot come home to me! Father! thy child, I sojourn here, But guide me to a brighter sphere.

SATURDAY MORNING.

"And God said, Let the earth bring forth the living creature after his kind."-GENESIS i. 24-30.

My soul! to trace thy Maker's hand

In all creation's round,

And see the wond'rous frame He planned,
With its perfections crowned;
This hath been thy sweet duty past,
But this day's gift was best, as last.

The blossomed herb, the fruitful tree,
The sun and spangled sky,
The deep, with all its treasury,

The air, for them who fly;

These all were made, one beauteous plan,
And then a lord was given them-man.