Every bush and tufted tree
Warbles sweet philosophy :-

Mortal, flee from doubt and sorrow :
God provideth for the morrow!

Say, with richer crimson glows
The kingly mantle than the rose?
Say, have kings more wholesome fare
Than we poor citizens of air?

Barns nor hoarded grain have we,
Yet we carol merrily :—

Mortal flee from doubt and sorrow:

God provideth for the morrow!

One there lives whose guardian eye
Guides our humble destiny:
One there lives, who, Lord of all,
Keeps our feathers lest they fall :
Pass we blithely, then, the time,
Fearless of the snare and lime,

Free from doubt and faithless sorrow :
God provideth for the morrow!

HEBER.

The Use of Flowers.

OD might have made the earth bring forth
Enough for great and small;

The oak-tree and the cedar-tree,
Without a flower at all.

He might have made enough,-enough,
For every want of ours;
For medicine, luxury, and toil,
And yet have made no flowers.

The ore within the mountain mine
Requireth none to grow;

Nor doth it need the lotus-flower

To make the river flow.

The clouds might give abundant rain,
The nightly dews might fall;

And the herb that keepeth life in man
Might yet have drunk them all.

Then wherefore,-wherefore were they made,
All dyed with rainbow light;
All fashioned with supremest grace,

Upspringing day and night.

Springing in valleys green and low,

And on the mountains high,

And in the silent wilderness

Where no man passeth by.

Our outward life requires them not,
Then wherefore had they birth?
To minister delight to man,

To beautify the earth.

To comfort man-to whisper hope
Whene'er his faith is dim;

For whoso careth for the flowers,
Will much more care for him.

MRS. HOWITT.

With a Wreath of

Roses and Lilies, given to a Bride.

W

TREATHED roses red with lilies fair,
We for a youthful bride prepare ;

A sacred Head was bound with thorn

That lilies might His spouse adorn :
May these sweet flowers an earnest prove
Of mingled purity and love.

TEACHERS OF TRUTH.

BEFORE Thy mystic altar-Heavenly Truth-
I kneel in manhood as I knelt in youth:
Thus let me kneel till this dull form decay,
And life's last shade be brightened by this ray.

SIR W. JONES.

FRUTH

Teachers of Truth.

is in each flower,

As well as in the solemnest things of God; Truth is the voice of Nature and of time; Truth is the startling monitor within us: Nought is without it,-it comes from the stars, The golden sun, and every breeze that blows: Truth, it is God! and God is everywhere!

W. T. BACON.

Christ's Voice in the Soul.

"Come ye yourselves into a desert place and rest awhile: for there were many coming and going, and they had no leisure so much as to eat."

Μ'

ID the mad whirl of life, its dim confusion, Its jarring discords and poor vanity, Breathing like music over troubled waters, What gentle voice, O Christian, speaks to thee?

It is a stranger, not of earth, or earthly :
By the serene deep fulness of that Eye,
By the calm pitying smile, the gesture lowly,
It is thy Saviour as He passeth by.

"Come: come," He saith, "into a desert place,
Thou who art weary of life's lower sphere;
Leave its low strifes, forget its babbling noise;
Come thou with Me,-all shall be bright and clear.

"Art thou bewildered by contending voices, Sick, to thy soul, of party noise and strife? Come leave it all, and seek that solitude

:

Where thou shalt learn of Me a purer life.