Though whirlwinds tear the blossoms fair, yet still the stem may thrive,

While a cold season's withering blight scarce leaves the root alive.

But as our earthly pleasures fade, if plants of heavenly

peace

Spring in our bosom's wilderness, and, nurtured there, increase,

In humble hope, and holy fear, our hearts will daily prove That, "smitten friends are angels sent on errands full of love."

Then seek not hours of sober grief or sorrowing thought to

shun,

Until our hearts are brought in truth to say, "Thy will be

done."

And grateful love for strokes like these, our hearts to God

may warm,

Perhaps He saw the gathering cloud, and housed them from the storm.

If in his own good time and way he shelter these from ill, And in his mercy bless the blow to those remaining still, May we not hope to join in heaven the song the blessed raise?

Almighty God, and King of saints, how just and true thy

ways.

HYMN TO THE FLOWERS.

DAYSTARS! that ope your eyes with man to twinkle
From rainbow galaxies of earth's creation,
And dewdrops on her lonely altars sprinkle
As a libation.

Ye matin worshippers! who, bending lowly
Before the uprisen sun, God's lidless eye,
Throw from your chalices a sweet and holy
Incense on high.

Ye bright Mosaics! that, with storied beauty,
The floor of Nature's temple tesselate,
What numerous emblems of instructive duty
Your forms create!

'Neath clustered boughs, each floral bell that swingeth
And tolls its perfume on the passing air,
Makes Sabbath in the fields, and ever ringeth
A call to prayer..

Not to the domes where crumbling arch and column

Attest the feebleness of mortal hand,

But to that fane, most Catholic and solemn,
Which God hath planned;—

To that cathedral, boundless as our wonder,
Whose quenchless lamps the sun and moon supply,
Its choir the winds and waves-its organ thunder-
Its dome the sky.

There, as in solitude and shade I wander

Through the green aisles, or stretched upon the sod, Awed by the silence, reverently ponder

The ways of God.

Your voiceless lips, O flowers! are living preachers,
Each cup a pulpit, every leaf a book,
Supplying to my fancy numerous teachers
From loneliest nook.

Floral apostles! that, in dewy splendour,

"Weep without wo, and blush without a crime," Oh! may I deeply learn, and ne'er surrender Your lore sublime!

"Thou wert not, Solomon! in all thy glory,

Arrayed," the lilies cry-" in robes like ours;

How vain your grandeur! ah, how transitory
Are human flowers."

In the sweet-scented pictures, heavenly Artist!
With which thou paintest nature's wide-spread hall,
What a delightful lesson thou impartest

Of love to all!

Not useless are ye, flowers! though made for pleasure, Blooming o'er field and wave, by day and night, From every source your sanction bids me treasure Harmless delight.

Ephemeral sages! what instructors hoary

For such a world of thought could furnish scope? Each fading calyx a memento mori,

Yet fount of hope.

Posthumous glories! angel-like collection!
Upraised from seed or bulb interred in earth,
Ye are to me a type of resurrection,

And second birth.

Were I, O God! in churchless lands remaining,
Far from all voice of teachers and divines,

My soul would find, in flowers of thy ordaining,

Priests, sermons, shrines!

HORACE SMITH.

HEAVENLY HAPPINESS.

HEAVEN is not merely a thing to come; it is in one sense a present possession; for "he that believeth on the Son hath everlasting life." It is a state within us, rather than a place without us; it is the likeness and the enjoyment, and the service of God; that which every true Christian carries in his bosom now, and into which he will fully enter hereafter, when he shall be made perfect in love.

To this state all true religion is ever tending. The spirit of love is the motion and progress of the soul towards its eternal rest in the presence of God. No man can be prepared for heavenly happiness while his heart is destitute of this; and whosoever has most of it, knows most of the unseen and ineffable joys of the righteous. He lives in the vestibule of the heavenly temple, and is ready,