"Be not weary," tempted Christian; sin allures but here on earth:

Faith is tried by sore temptation; 'tis the furnace proves its worth.

Bounds are set unto the tempter, beyond which he cannot go :

Patient still, on GOD relying, faith will overcome the foe.

"Be not weary," weeping Christian; tears endure but for the night:

Joy, deep joy, thy spirit greeting, soon returns with morning light.

Every tear thou shedd'st is numbered in the register above:

Heaven is tearless; sweet the prospect, sighless, tearless land of love!

"Be not weary," hoping Christian, though the vision tarry long;

Hope will bring the blessing nearer; change thy sorrow

into song.

Nought shall press thy spirit downwards, if thy hopes all brightly shine!

:

Hold thy hope, whate'er thou losest living, precious hopes are thine.

"Be not weary," troubled Christian, rest remains for thee on high,

Dwell upon the untold glory of thy future home of joy.

There, nor sin, nor sorrow entereth: there, thy soul attuned to praise,

Shall, in strains of heavenly fulness, songs of happy triumph raise.

"Be not weary," loving Christian; in this heavenly grace abound;

JESUS, well thou knowest, loved thee, though in mad rebellion found.

Drink, drink deeply, of His Spirit; JESUS' love knows great nor small;

Nature loves but what is lovely; grace embraceth one and all.

"Be not weary," fighting Christian; fierce the battle, strong the foe,

Yet, in heav'nly armour conquer; onward to the battle go. See thy Captain, crowned in glory, gives thee power, and shares thy toil:

No sword, no weapon 'gainst thee shall prosper; but only on the foe recoil.

Warrior Christian, fight the battle; soon the enemy shall fly:

Crowns and glory yet await thee; fight and win the victory.

Angels' joys in JESUS' presence, soon for ever thine shall be;

Fight and conquer; GoD shall crown thee: come to th' eternal jubilee.

Christian, thus in grace unwearied, pass thy sojourn

here below;

Spurn lukewarmness: let thy bosom ever with true fervour glow!

Look to CHRIST, thy great example, copy Him in all His ways;

Let thy life and conversation echo thy Redeemer's praise.

A. M.

SALVATION OF THE HEATHEN.

Is virtue then, unless of Christian growth,
Mere fallacy, or foolishness, or both?
Ten thousand sages lost in endless woe
For ignorance of what they could not know?
That speech betrays at once a bigot's tongue :
Charge not our GOD with such outrageous wrong.
Truly not I. The partial light men have,

My creed persuades me, well employed, may save;
While he that scorns the noon-day beam, perverse,
Shall find the blessing, unimproved, a curse.
Let heathen worthies, whose exalted mind
Left sensuality and dross behind,

Possess for me their undisputed lot,

And take un-envied the reward they sought.

F

But still in virtue of a SAVIOUR's plea,
Not blind by choice, but destined not to see.
Their fortitude and wisdom were a flame

Celestial, though they knew not whence it came;
Derived from the same source of light and grace
That guides the Christian in his swifter race.
Their judge was conscience, and her rule their law.
That rule, pursued with reverence and with awe,
Led them, however faltering, faint, and slow,

From what they knew, to what they wished to know.
But let not him that shares a brighter day,
Traduce the splendour of a noon-tide ray;
Prefer the twilight of a darker time;
And deem his base stupidity no crime.

The wretch who slights the bounty of the skies,
And sinks, while favoured with the means to rise,
Shall find them rated at their full amount;

The good he scorned all carried to account.

COWPER.

GOING HOME.

"WILL you come with me, my love?"
I asked a little child;

"Will you come and gather flowers ?"
She looked at me and smiled.

Then in a low, sweet, gentle voice,
She said, "I cannot come ;
I must not leave this narrow path,
For I am going home."

"But will you not?" I asked again,
"The sun is shining bright,

And you might twine a lily wreath
To carry home at night;

And I could shew you pleasant things,

If you would only come;

But still she answered as before, "No; I am going home."

"But look, my child, the fields are green,
And 'neath the leafy trees,
Children are playing merrily,
Or resting at their ease.

"Does it not hurt your tender feet,
This stony path to tread ?"
"Sometimes; but I am going home,"
Once more she sweetly said.

"My Father bid me keep this path, Nor ever turn aside;

The road which leads away from Him, Is very smooth and wide;