beside you when dead, and recognize the same dear family in heaven!"

Years have passed since this happy evening; long and far have been my wanderings, and no tidings have ever more reached me from the little valley of the Jura: yet my heart often turns to the interesting scene, and would fain hope, that happiness and peace are still presiding over that innocent flock, and the good Pastor of the Lac de Joux.

HYMN.

BY JOHN BOWRING.

THE everlasting streams which flow
In Eden's garden, by whose side
Immortal trees and flow'rets grow-
Are from that mighty found supplied,
Which to our lowlier earth has given
Streams pure and fresh as those of heaven.

The music whose enchanting strains

Are waked by angels-first was taught By Him who to our groves and plains The melodies of nature brought;

And those, like these, commingling blend, And to His hallowed seat ascend.

That God who gave immortal breath
To million cherubs near his face,
Is He who disciplines by death
Man's here probationary race;
And sends delight, or sends distress,
Alike to benefit and bless.

THE MOTHER TRIED.

"Oh! blessed be my baby boy!"
Thus spoke a mother to her child—
And kissed him with excess of joy,
Then looked upon his face and smiled.

Then, as the mother breathed his name,-
The fervent prayer was scarcely said,-
Convulsions shook his infant frame,-
The mother's only babe was dead!

But still her faith in Him she kept-
In Him who turned to grief her joy;
And still she murmured, as she wept,

Oh! blessed is my baby boy!"

P. D.

HYMN OF THE ARCHANGELS.

[From the Prologue to Göthe's Faust.]

RAPHAEL.

THE sun pours forth his emulous song,
'Mid kindred spheres, with ancient force,
And his prescribed path along,

With thunder-pace pursues his course. His look with strength doth angels fill, Though him to fathom none have power;

The sumless lofty works are still
As grand as in creation's hour.

GABRIEL.

And swift, and past conceiving swift,
The earth revolves, in beauty dight;

The bloom of Paradise doth shift

And change with deep and chilling night. O'er beds of rock, deep-set and strong, The sea foams up in billows broad, And rocks and sea are whirled along

The sphere's eternal rapid road.

MICHAEL

And vying storms roar out amain,
From sea to land, from land to sea;
And wildly raging, form a chain
Around, of deepest energy.

There flames the lightning's wasting fire,
Before the thunderbolt's dread way ;-

Yet, Lord, thy messengers admire

The gentle progress of thy day.

ALL.

Thy look with strength doth angels fill,
Though thee to fathom none have power;

And all thy lofty works are still

As grand as in creation's hour.

S. E.