For the Feast of St Margaret,

QUEEN OF SCOTLAND.

THE fair white rose now let us twinę
To deck our queen's and patron's shrine,
And humbly let us kneel, and say,
St Margaret, for Scotland pray!

To our dear land again restore
The ancient faith she loved of yore ;
Let not the spoiler win the day;
St Margaret, for Scotland pray!

Are there no poor and sad ones still,
Whose cup of sorrow care doth fill?
From such thou ne'er didst turn away;
St Margaret, for Scotland pray!

Instead of Scotland's circlet fair,
A heavenly crown thy brow doth wear;
Yet think on old Dunfermline gray;
St Margaret, for Scotland pray!

The Old Beggar Man.

FROM THE GERMAN OF UHLAND.

I AM a poor old beggar man,
And I live all alone:

I would that one bright day of joy
To me could yet be known.

When my dear children were alive,

A happy life I led;

But now I weep with bitter care,
Since every one is dead.

I see the rich men's gardens bloom,
I see the golden corn:

Mine is the fruitless path of gloom,
The thistle and the thorn.

And yet I love to linger near,
Where happy hearts I find,

And wish to every one, "good morn,"
So warmly and so kind.

O God most rich! Thou leav'st me not

All destitute and poor;

Thou sendest balm for every heart

From Heaven evermore.

In every little village fair

Thy holy house I see;

With organ's tone, and holy prayer,

'Tis open, too, for me.

And sun, and moon, and stars so bright, Shine mildly on my way:

When evening's Ave-bell I hear,

Then, Lord, to Thee I pray.

Once to a heavenly feast above
Thy children Thou wilt call;
Then I shall come, in bridal robe,
To Thy high banquet-hall.

THE BEACON OF

Our Lady of Succour.

WHEN the light of eve declineth
O'er the trackless ocean drear,
Oh, how bright thy beacon shineth,
Blessed Mary, ever near!

When the bark so frail is tossing
On the wide and stormy sea,

Mariner, his bosom crossing,
Breathes a lowly prayer to thee.

O'er the restless waters gleaming, Now there shines no gracious star; But thy radiance, ever beaming,

Gladly doth he hail afar.

Many a name he numbers over,

Deep within his heart enshrined, That thy light would o'er them hover, In the home he left behind.

C

Firmly still in heart believing,
In the lonely twilight dim,
And on wave, so darkly heaving,
Thou dost intercede for him.—
When the light of life declineth,
Pray for us, O Mary blest;
Ever bright thy beacon shineth,

Guide the weary soul to rest.