That church-the unperverted gospel's seat; In their afflictions a divine retreat; In doctrine and communion they have sought But theirs the wise man's ordinary lot,To trace right courses for the stubborn blind, And prophesy to ears that will not hear. EXILED REFORMERS. SCATTERING, like birds escaped the fowler's net, By dauntless Luther freed, could they forget Free to pour forth their common thankfulness, With speculative notions rashly sown, Whence thickly-sprouting growth of poisonous weeds Is he who can, by help of grace, enthrone SPONSORS. FATHER! to God Himself we cannot give A holier name. Then lightly do not bear Both names conjoined; but of thy spiritual care Be duly mindful; still more sensitive VOL. II. 13 Do thou, in truth a second mother, strive Against disheartening custom; that by thee This ordinance, whether loss it would supply, Or seek to make assurance doubly sure. NEW CHURCHES. Bur liberty and triumphs on the main, Intent, and sedulous of abject gain, Forbear to shape due channels which the flood I hear their sabbath-bells' harmonious chime THE NEW CHURCH-YARD. THE encircling ground, in native turf arrayed, And wild deer bounded through the forest glade, Unchecked as when by merry outlaw driven, Shall wound the tender sod. Encincture small, BERNARD BARTON, A MEMBER of the Society of Friends, is the author of numerous pieces, marked alike by sweetness of versification, and tender and Christian feeling. HUMAN LIFE. "In the morning it flourisheth, and groweth up; in the evening it is cut down, and withereth."-Ps. xc. 6. I WALKED the fields at morning's prime, The skylark sang his matin chime, "And thus," I cried, "the ardent boy, I wandered forth at noon:-Alas! The scythe had left the withering grass, And stretched the fading blossom. And thus, I thought with many a sigh, Like flowers which blossom but to die, Once more, at eve, abroad I strayed, The perfumed air, the hush of eve, For thus "the actions of the just," When memory hath enshrined them, E'en from the dark and silent dust SPIRITUAL WORSHIP. THOUGH glorious, O God! must thy temple have been, On the day of its first dedication, When the cherubims' wings widely waving were seen On high, o'er the ark's holy station; When even the chosen of Levi, though skilled Retired from the cloud which the temple then filled, Though awfully grand was thy majesty then; And by whom was that ritual for ever repealed But by Him, unto whom it was given To enter the Oracle, where is revealed, Not the cloud, but the brightness of heaven. Who, having once entered, hath shown us the way, Not with shadowy forms of that earlier day, This, this is the worship the Saviour made known, By the patriarch's well sitting weary, alone, With the stillness of noon-tide around Him. How sublime, yet how simple, the homage He taught, If Jehovah at Solyma's shrine would be sought, "Woman! believe me, the hour is near, When He, if ye rightly would hail Him, Will neither be worshipped exclusively here, Nor yet at the altar of Salem. "For God is a spirit! and they who aright Would perform the pure worship He loveth, In the heart's holy temple will seek, with delight, That spirit the Father approveth." THE POOL OF BETHESDA. AROUND Bethesda's healing wave Waiting to hear the rustling wing Which spoke the angel nigh, who gave With patience and with hope endued, |