orchards, but this industrious creature always alive to its true interests, flies in all directions to secure the blessings of the day. It waits not till the flowers have faded, and its own strength is enfeebled; but in all its vigor, dives into the cup which contains the treasure it seeks, secures the prize, and bears it away for future support and enjoyment. Thus should every individual act in reference to spiritual and eter, nal things; he should bring his noblest powers to God; he should seek at the proper time, and in the manner prescribed, the blessings of redemption so freely and graciously offered, till he has obtained the blessed sense of sin forgiven.

3. The bee is an example of unremitting diligence and activity. Intent upon its object it never seems to loiter, but to pursue its work steadily, and with the greatest zeal. If it flies from flower to flower, it is not from fickleness or a wish for something new, but because it desires to gain something for the hive. Whoever has watched its labors must have been struck with the rapidity with which it proceeds, remaining no longer abroad than is necessary for the accomplishment of its object. It proves all things, and secures that which is good. Diligence and activity are necessary in those who value time, and desire to improve it. And what should be our motto as the candidates for eternity? Read it; mark it; practise it "Work while it is day; the night cometh when no man can work." "We desire," says the apostle, "that every one of you do shew the same diligence to the full assurance of hope unto the end." Diligence in reading, in hearing, in meditation, in prayer, in self-examination. "Whatsoever thy hand findeth to do, do it with thy might." Seize the golden hours to gain that which will ensure thy happiness, here and hereafter. Promptitude in religion is absolutely necessary. The harvest requires diligence and zeal. He that sleepeth in harvest is a son that causeth shame. The herald of mercy will not always invite. The Sabbath will not always arrive. Trifle not with present opportunities, but improve them. Hear every sermon, read every chapter with a desire to gain spiritual good, and while the opportunity is before you, gather what you can, and lay it up in the secret place of the heart. Minutes, hours, days, and years, are preparing to depart. The leaves are fading.

Time is bearing you on to death, judgment, and eternity-
Hasten, O sinner, to be blest,

And stay not for the morrow's sun;

For fear the curse should thee arrest,
Before the morrow is begun.

4. The bee performs its work with cheerfulness. It sings as it goes, and finds pleasure in its employment. A cheerful disposition acts like a charm upon every object, and transforms labor itself into a recreation. Christianity not only renders all its subjects happy, but it enables them to rejoice even in tribulations, knowing that tribulations work patience, and patience experience, and experience hope." David says, "Thy statutes have been my song in this house of my pilgrimage:" A Christian has joys to which the votaries of dissipation are strangers. Is it asked, whence they are derived? I answer in the house of God; at the throne of grace; in the word of promise; in the prospect of heaven; for the love of God is shed abroad in his heart by the Holy Ghost, which is given to Him. And there are seasons when he rejoices with joy unspeakable. In waiting upon the Lord, he renews his strength, he tastes the sweets of the rose of Sharon, and the lily of the valley, and extracting from the doctrines, and duties, and privileges of the Bible, that which instructs, admonishes, and consoles him, he proceeds on his way rejoicing in God his Saviour.

Let the conduct of the bee impart instruction to all classes and all ages. Let the young enter upon the work of improving their minds, and cultivating their talents at an early period. How much may be acquired by industry! From the blossoms of science vast stores of sweets may be extracted; but from the flowers of religion may be drawn that which will sweeten every part of human existence, and make the bitter waters of life salutary and grateful.

The subject should excite the Christian to diligence in all that God has appointed for the safety and prosperity of the soul. He must say to every temptation, to every worldly attraction, "Hinder me not."

I will only add, that as there is nothing gloomy in religion, those who profess it should manifest their cheerfulness and joy. Let them celebrate His praises, who died for them and rose again, and sitteth at the right hand of God, to make intercession. R. C.

POETRY.

THE VANITY OF EARTHLY AMBITION.

THE following verses were found written with a pencil, by an unknown hand, about 1784, on a plastered wall in the venerable remains of Corfe Castle, Dorsetshire, but have been long since obliterated,

CHANG'D is the scene, lo! Corfe's no more

The seat of royal pride;

Nor grandeur marks, nor wealth, nor power,
Where hapless Edward died.

There would I sit-lament the day
When envy plum'd her wings;
When tott'ring fragments mould away,
I'd weep o'er murder'd kings.

While storms around these ruins blow

I'd learn ambition's fate;

Read in these broken walls below

What ills the proud await.

FOSTER,

FRAMPTON.

THE EVENING PRIMROSE.

I LOVE that modest, lowly flow'r,
Which shuns the glare of day;
Nor ventures till the ev'ning hour
Its beauties to display.

No plant that in my garden grows
More pleas'd do I behold;

Than that which just at ev'ning shows

Its tints of virgin gold.

The gaudy flow'rs that court the sun

To others' praise I leave;
And sing the charms of that alone

Which gilds the gloom of eve.

Chaste, simple, unaspiring flow'r,
In innocence array'd;

Retiring from the noon-beam's pow'r,

It blossoms in the shade.

Apt emblem of that plant divine,

Which not in nature grows,
An offset of the Living Vine,
A graft of Sharon's rose.

Yes, in thy sweet simplicity,
Fair flow'r, I seem to view
The heav'n-inspired humility
Of spirits form'd anew.

And I will look upon thee still,
Still look and still admire;
And in accordance with the will
Of Christ my Lord aspire,—

(Like thee, amid the gaudy throng,
Unknown, unseen, pass'd by ;)
The lowliest plants of grace among
To bud, and bloom, and die.

J. S. HARVEY.

"I LOATH IT; I WOULD NOT LIVE ALWAY."

O! that I could for ever leave

This busy world-its vain alarms
Make me continually to grieve,

Its business has for me no charms-
Envy and Passion hold their strife,
And on the brightest things of life
Cast gloomy moods, like dimming dust,
Or spread dull care's corroding rust.

When joy is mounting to the skies,

And seems to soar without a bound,
Some ill, like a sharp arrow flies,

And brings it bleeding to the ground.
But Death alone can cut the string,
That ties my soul to this clay thing,
And give my spirit leave to be
For ever happy, safe, and free.

Job vii. 16.

T. M. B.

UNCLE'S LINES.

"Remember now thy Creator in the days of thy YOUTH, for them that honour me, I will honour, saith the Lord."

Eccles. xii. 1. with Sam. ii. 30.

The following lines were composed at the request of Georgiana that "Uncle would write something in her Scrap Book,"

GIVE thy best Friend the morning of thy time:
'Tis not the dregs of life, but 'tis the prime
That God demands! And he who gives thee all,
For earliest fruits of gratitude doth call.
If thou wilt honour Jesus Christ thy Lord,
Honour from him shall be thy sure reward.

G. C.

"EMMANUEL."

WHO is it that can wipe each tear
That falls down sorrow's pallid cheeks;
Who, who, expels the sinner's fear,
And pardon, peace, and comfort speaks?

Who heals the stricken souls that go
To Him for cure, and bids them dwell
In his salvation here below?

The Lamb of God, "Emmanuel."

Who listens to the widow's prayer—
Who hears the orphan's wretched cry—
Who loves his people every where,
And comforts those about to die?

Who is it that deserves the praise
Of men and angels, sinner tell!
Who merits adoration's lays?
The King of kings, "Emmanuel."

Entangled once in sin's dark wood,
No moon to give a friendly light;
I lost the path and sad I stood,
Wrapp'd in the gloom of thickest night.

Despair had seized my aching breast,
Within me rung my funeral knell—
Who led me to a place of rest?
The Prince of Peace, "Emmanuel."