In fairy pinnace gaily flashing,

Through the white foam proudly dashing,
The joyous playmate of the buxom breeze,
The fearless fondling of the mighty seas.

Thou the light sail boldly spreadest,
O'er the furrowed waters gliding,—
Thou nor wreck nor foeman dreadest,
Thou nor helm nor compass needest ;
While the sun is bright above thee,
While the bounding surges love thee,
In their deepening bosoms hiding,
Thou canst not fear,

Small marinere ;

For though the tides with restless motion
Bear thee to the desert ocean,

Far as the ocean stretches to the sky
"Tis all thine own,-'tis all thy empiry.

Lame is art, and his endeavour

Follows nature's course but slowly,—
Guessing, toiling, seeking ever,
Still improving, perfect never.

Little Nautilus, thou showest

Deeper wisdom than thou knowest,

Lore which man should follow lowly :
Bold faith and cheer,

Small marinere,

Are thine within thy pearly dwelling.—
Thine a law of life, compelling

Obedience, perfect, simple, glad, and free,
To the Great Will that animates the sea.

HARTLEY COLERIDGE.

W

The Sandal Tree.

HEN on the fragrant sandal tree
The woodman's axe descends,

And she who bloomed so beautously

Beneath the keen stroke bends,—

E'en on the edge that wrought her death,
Dying, she breathes her sweetest breath,
As if betokening, in her fall,

Peace to her foes and love to all.

How hardly man this lesson learns,—
To smile and bless the hand that spurns,
To see the blow and feel the pain,
But render only love again.

This spirit not to earth is given ;

One had it, but He came from Heaven!
Reviled, rejected, and betrayed,

No curse He breathed, no plaint He made,
But, when in death's deep pang He sighed,
Pray'd for His murderers, and died.

Trusting to the Uttermost.

Hab. iii. 17.

LTHOUGH the vine its fruit deny,
The budding fig-trees droop and die,
No oil the olives yield;

Yet will I trust still in my God,—

Yea, bend rejoicing to His rod,
And by His grace be healed.

Though fields in verdure once arrayed,
By whirlwinds desolate be laid,

Or parched by scorching beam;
Still in the Lord shall be my trust,

My joy, for though His frown is just,

Though from the fold the flock decay,
Though herds lie famished o'er the lea
And round the empty stall,-

My soul above the wreck shall rise:
Its better joys are in the skies;

There God is all in all.

In God, my strength, howe'er distrest,
I yet will hope, and calmly rest,

Nay, triumph in His love:

My ling'ring soul, my tardy feet,

Free as the hind he makes, and fleet,

To speed my course above.

BISHOP ONDERDONK.

Teachers of Trust.

HE child leans on its parent's breast,
Leaves there its cares and is at rest;
The bird sits singing by its nest,
And tells aloud

His trust in God, and then is blest
'Neath every cloud.

He has no store, he sows no seed;
Yet sings aloud and doth not heed:
By flowing stream or grassy mead,
He sings to shame
Men, who forget in fear and need
A Father's name.

The heart that trusts for ever sings,
And feels as light as it had wings;
A well of peace within it springs.
Come good or ill :

Whate'er to-day-to-morrow brings,—

It is His will.

ISAAC WILLIAMS.

"Ever with the Lord."

BY A MISSIONARY'S WIDOW.

Do not think of thee, beloved, As in thy lonely quiet grave, Although the place is calm and fair, With bloom of flowers and sound of wave. My heart goes after thee above, Rejoicing in God's light and love.

I never think of thee, beloved,

As lying still in dreamless sleep, While over thee the narrow tomb

A constant silent watch does keep. Thou art "for ever with the Lord," And I take comfort in that word.

I never think of thee, beloved,

With anxious heart or loving pain, Fearing the work will ever tire

Or overtask thy heart or brain.

All that is passed with earthly life:
Thou art beyond the toil and strife.

I never think of thee, beloved,

Save as a pure and perfect saint :