streams of living waters, even the upper and the nether springs are his. For the hungry, here is meat indeed, even the broken body of the Son of God, the bread from above, that nourishes the soul unto eternal life.

CONSCIENCE.

WHENCE springs this wondrous intern power,

Whose unseen counsels guide the soul,
The wakeful guardian of each hour,
Stern, rigid, keen, she scorns control;
Who wakes the soul to dread alarm,
Or gives to life the sovereign charm.

Not fam'd Idalia's scented gales,
Dispers'd on dewy wings of morn;
Nor Hygeia's aromatic vales,

Whom ever blooming sweets adorn:
With these, nor peace, nor pleasure lives,
Like that approving conscience gives.

Nor poverty with all its stings,

(The meed of scorn to little minds,) 'E'en pale disease no terror brings,

Grim death a fearless welcome finds. Sweet rectitude each pang beguiles, 'Tis heaven still where conscience smiles.

But when the rebel dares offend

The sacred institutes of heaven, While vice his vagrant steps attend,

By fierce contending passions driven; There conscience takes her awful stand, With scorpions writhing in her hand.

Pursuing earth's unhallow'd joys,
The sad prelude of future woe,

In vain he flies the still small voice".
Which bids him view the gulf below,
Which bids him 'scape th' impending rod,
The vengeance of an angry God.

But when the "mad career" is o'er,

And well earn'd anguish wrings his heart, When death stands knocking at the door, And bids the trembling wretch depart, Then angry conscience rises too, To call each sin in dread review.

Ah me! in all the varied round,

Where finite bliss and pleasures roll, What can so rich with these be found, To purchase one immortal soul? Like gilded clouds they quickly fly, But ah! the soul can never die.

Oh conscience! to my prayer incline,
Implant thy olive in my breast;
Still may'st thou soothe with peace benign,
Each adverse thought to gentlest rest.

Then calmly yield my parting breath,
And greet a kindlier friend in death.

JESUS Christ hath fulfilled all righteousness; I trust, for me, every requirement of the divine law. This is the anchor of hope on which my soul shall rest. He hath suffered all the penalties due to me for my sins. This is my "city of refuge" and "those whom He loves, He loves to the end." This is the rock on which I build, and which can never be moved, though heaven and earth pass away.

PHILANTHROPY.

ORB of the mind, ethereal queen,

Thy smile, like beamy morn, Dispels the mental mists of spleen, Of envy, hate, and scorn.

Love in thine eye, peace on thy brow,
With sympathy divine,

In pearly dew, or raptur'd glow,
O'er thy fair features shine.

Parent of every social good,

Of every generous thought,
The sanguine tie of kindred blood,
With kind affection fraught.

Oh! may thy presence ever charm
My humble lowly cot;

May fortune's frowns give no alarm,
Her gifts, not too much sought.

Inspir'd by thee, I'll fondly taste
Friendship's spontaneous spring;
Nor time, nor chance impair or waste
The nectars thence we bring.

Awake my soul to each soft strain

Of pity's weeping lyre,

Whose tear-fraught note, with pleasing pain,

Doth human bliss inspire.

With sweet compassion's plastic hand,

To raise the drooping head; For anguish flies at thy command From sorrow's thorny bed.

Short is the date, and fleet the bliss,
All other joys impart;
Substantial pleasure sure is this,
To heal the wounded heart.

bid the brow o'erhung with woe,

Irradiate with a smile;

To dry the bitter tears that flow,

And every pang beguile.

And thine the skill-the power thine,

To smooth life's rugged way,

Of mortal bliss the source divine,

Of mortal grief the stay.

APHORISMS.

He is continually drowning in a turbule

who keeps not his own spirit in due sub All goes right without, when all is right wi

Too often is the saint ashamed of his alas! how incorrigibly does the sinner g

shame.

Ignorance is wearisome; pride, irritat disgusting; timidity, troublesome; and aff tolerable.