FLOWER-TEACHINGS.

DAY stars! that ope your eyes with man, to twinkle
From rainbow galaxies of earth's creation,
And dew-drops on her holy altar sprinkle
As a libation.

Ye matin worshippers! who bending lowly
Before the uprisen sun, God's lidless eye!
Throw from your chalices a sweet and holy
Incense on high.

Ye bright mosaics! that with storied beauty
The floor of Nature's temple tesselate
With numerous emblems of instructive duty,
Your forms create.

'Neath cloister'd boughs, each floral bell that swingeth,

And tolls its perfume on the passing air, Makes Sabbath in the fields, and ever ringeth

A call to prayer.

Not to the domes where crumbling arch and column

Attest the feebleness of mortal hand,

But to that fane, most catholic and solemn,
Which God hath plann'd.

To that cathedral, boundless as our wonder,
Whose quenchless lamps the sun and moon supply;
Its choir, the winds and waves-its organ, thunder-
Its dome, the sky.

There, as in solitude and shade I wander,

Through the green aisles, or stretch'd upon the sod,

Awed by the silence, reverently ponder

The ways of God.

Your voiceless lips, O flowers! are living preachers,
Each cup a pulpit, and each leaf a book,
Supplying to my fancy numerous teachers
From loneliest nook.

Floral apostles! that, in dewy splendour,

"Weep without woe, and blush without a crime," Oh! may I deeply learn and ne'er surrender Your lore sublime !

"Thou wert not, Solomon, in all thy glory,
Arrayed," the lilies cry, "in robes like ours;
How vain your grandeur! ah, how transitory,
Are human flowers!

In the sweet-scented pictures, heavenly Artist! With which Thou paintest Nature's wide-spread hall,

What a delightful lesson Thou impartest

Of love to all.

Not useless are ye, flowers, though made for pleasure, Blooming o'er field and wave by day and night, From every source your sanction bids me treasure, Harmless delight.

Ephemeral sages! what instructions hoary

For such a world of thought could furnish scope Each fading calyx a "memento mori,"

Yet font of hope.

Posthumous glories! angel-like collection!
Upraised from seed or bulb interr'd in earth,
Ye are to me a type of resurrection,

A second birth.

Were I, O God, in churchless lands remaining,
Far from all voice of teachers or divines,
My soul would find in flowers of Thy ordaining,
Priests, sermons, shrines.

HORACE SMITH, 1779-1849.

THE DIVINE PROVIDENCE.

As some fond mother views her infant race,

With tender love o'erflowing while she sees; She kisses one, one clasps in her embrace,

Her feet supporting one, and one her knees;

Then, as the winning gesture, speaking face,

Or plaintive cry explain their different pleas, A look, a word she deals with various grace,

And smiles or frowns, as Love alone decrees. O'er man, frail kind, so Providence Divine

Still watches; hears, sustains, and succours all, With equal eye upholding each that lives.

If Heaven denies, oh! let not man repine! Heaven but denies to quicken duty's call, Or feigning to deny, more largely gives. POETICAL REGISTER.

-Italian of Filicaja.

THE TEMPLE OF NATURE.

TALK not of temples-there is one

Built without hands, to mankind given;
Its lamps are the meridian sun,

And all the stars of heaven;

Its walls are the cerulean sky,

Its floor the earth so green and fair;
The dome is vast immensity—

All nature worships there!

The Alps array'd in stainless snow,
The Andean ranges yet untrod,

At sunrise and at sunset glow

Like altar-fires to God.

A thousand fierce volcanoes blaze,

As if with hallow'd victims rare ; And thunder lifts its voice in praiseAll nature worships there!

The ocean heaves resistlessly,

And pours his glittering treasure forth; His waves the priesthood of the sea— Kneel on the shell-gemm'd earth, And there emit a hollow sound,

As if they murmur'd praise and prayer ; On every side 'tis holy groundAll nature worships there!

The grateful earth her odours yield
In homage, Mighty One! to Thee;
From herbs and flowers in every field,
From fruit on every tree,

The balmy dew at morn and even
Seems like the penitential tear,
Shed only in the sight of Heaven-
All nature worships there!

The cedar and the mountain pine,
The willow on the fountain's brim,

The tulip and the eglantine,

In reverence bend to Him;

The song-birds pour their sweetest lays,
From tower, and tree, and middle air;

The rushing river murmurs praise-
All nature worships there!