The graven flowers that wreath the sword Make not the blade lefs ftrong. But smiting hands fhall learn to heal, To build as to destroy; Nor lefs my heart for others feel All as God wills, who wisely heeds And knoweth more of all my needs Enough that bleffings undeserved That more and more a Providence Making the springs of time and sense Sweet with eternal good That death seems but a covered way That care and trial seem at last, Through Memory's sunset air, That all the jarring notes of life And so the fhadows fall apart, J. G. Whittier. A ENDURANCE. STRONG and mailed angel, A strong and mailed angel In the midnight and the day; Walking with me at my labor, Kneeling by me when I pray. What he says no other heareth; That move in armed battalions, Low are the words he speaketh "Young dreamer, God is great! 'Tis glorious to suffer! 'Tis majefty to wait!" O, Angel of Endurance! O, saintly and sublime! White are the arméd legions That tread the halls of Time! Blessed, and brave, and holy! O, strong and mailéd angel! Still chant the same grand anthem The beautiful and great "'Tis glorious to suffer, 'Tis majesty to wait!" L. H. F. 1 TIMES GO BY TURNS. HE loppéd tree in time may grow again; TH Toft naked plants renew both fruit ad Howers; The sorrieft wight may find release from pain; The sea of fortune doth not ever flow, Her tides have equal times to come and go, Her loom doth weave the fine and coarseft web; Not always fall of leaf, nor ever spring; A chance may win what by mischance was loft; In some things all, in all things none are croff'd ; PRESUMPTION AND DESPAIR. ON NE time I was allowed to steer, But here fhall evermore abide, My heart one time the rivers fed, Which fhall not pass away; But when I lay upon the fhore, |