EXTRACT.

THE soul is better than its frame,

The spirit than its temple. What's the brow,
Or the eyes' lustre, or the step of air,

Or colour, but the beautiful links that chain
The mind from its own element? There lies
A talisman in intellect, which yields
Celestial music, when the Master hand

Touches it cunningly. It sleeps beneath
The outward semblance, and to common sight,

Is an invisible and hidden thing

But when the lip is faded, and the cheek

Is robbed of its rich bloom; and when the form

Delights the eye no more, and human love
Falters in its idolatry, this charm will hold
Its strength unbroken, and go on

Stealing anew the affections.

RELIANCE ON GOD'S PROMISES.

"As thy day, so shall thy strength be."

WHEN adverse winds and waves arise,
And in my heart despondence sighs-
When life her throng of care reveals,
And weakness o'er my spirit steals-
Grateful I hear the kind decree,
That" as my day, my strength shall be."

When with sad footsteps memory roves
'Mid smitten joys and buried loves-
When sleep my tearful pillow flies,
And dewy morning drinks my sighs-
Still to thy promise, Lord, I flee,
That," as my day, my strength shall be."

One trial more must yet be passed,

One pang-the keenest and the last;
And when, with brow convulsed and pale,
My feeble, quivering heartstrings fail,
Redeemer, grant my soul to see,
That "as her day, her strength shall be."

L. H. SIGOURNEY.

2

HYMN TO THE STARS.

Ay, there ye shine, and there have shone,
In one eternal" hour of prime,"

Each rolling burningly, alone,

Through boundless space and countless time. Ay, there ye shine! the golden dews

That pave the realms by seraphs trod, There, through yon echoing vault diffuse' The song of choral worlds to God.

Ye visible spirits! bright as erst
Young Eden's birthnight saw ye shine
On all the flowers and fountains first,

Yet sparkling from the hand Divine;
Yes, bright as then ye smiled to catch

The music of a sphere so fair,
Ye hold your high immortal watch,
And gird your God's pavilion there.

Gold frets to dust-yet there ye are ;
Time rots the diamond-there ye roll
In primal light, as if each star
Enshrined an everlasting soul!
And does it not-since your bright throngs
One all enlightening Spirit own,
Praised there by pure siderial tongues,
Eternal, glorious, blest, alone?

Could man but see what ye have seen,
Unfold awhile the shrouded past,

From all that is, to what has been,

The glance how rich! the range how vast!

The birth of time, the rise, the fall

Of empires, myriads, ages flown; Thrones, cities, tongues, arts, worships-all The things whose echoes are not gone.

Ye saw rapt Zoroaster send

His soul into your mystic reign; Ye saw the adoring Sabian bend

The living hills his mighty fane! Beneath his blue and beaming sky,

He worshipped at your lofty shrine, And deemed he saw, with gifted eye, The Godhead in his works divine.

And there ye shine, as if to mock

The children of a mortal sire. The storm, the bolt, the earthquake's shock,

The red volcano's cataract fire,

Drought, famine, plague, and blood, and flame,
All nature's ills, and life's worst woes,
Are naught to you: ye smile the same,
And scorn alike their dawn and close.

Ay, there ye roll-emblems sublime

Of Him whose spirit o'er us moves, Beyond the clouds of grief and crime, Still shining on the world he loves: Nor is one view to mortals given

That more divides the soul and sod, Than yon proud heraldry of heavenYon burning blazonry of God!