IMMORTALITY.

WHAT is it cheers the aching breast,
What bids corroding sorrows flee?

What sooths the heart with accents blessed? 'Tis hope of IMMORTALITY.

When tired of this revolving span,
This painful, disappointing round,
If asked of bliss, poor hapless man
Responds, " on earth it is not found.”

For here, misfortune's angry lour
Shadows the fairest, brightest morn;
And he that crops the straggling flower,
Is wounded with the secret thorn.

The fairy dreams that sense beguile,
Like dreams, how soon they disappear!
And who can boast, when e'en Love's smile
Is but the prelude to a tear?

What panacea blest shall cure
The soul-disease, satiety?

What, but the prospect, bright, and sure,
Of pleasing Immortality?

Life is a desert, but afar

The pillar burns with steady ray;
And HOPE OF FUTURE, is the star
That guides the wanderer on the way.

Here then, I'll hold, and doubt disclaim,
And while I bid despondence flee,
Will, grateful, bless my Maker's name,
For hope of Immortality.

12

GALILEE.

་་ AND HE AROSE AND REBUKED THE WIND, AND SAID UNTO THE SEA, PEACE! BE STILL."

NIGHT mantles Judea, but the star hath not shone
On thy bosom, Galilee;

The tempest is loud, yet the barque alone

Is labouring o'er the sea;

The Master, entranced, rides the foam of the waveO say, shall its womb yield the Godhead a grave?

Heeds not the Redeemer the thunder's increase:

Shall he not the proud whirlwind disarm?
For see, he hath gone to the slumbers of peace;—
With Jesus all is calm:

By his waves and his tempest, the Maker is tost;
In dreams, beatific, the Sleeper is lost.

The disciple, in terror, hath sprung from his rest,
Yet vain is the shipmen's skill,

Till aroused, HE of Nazareth, proclaims the behest, "Ye billows, peace, be still!"

The billows, obedient, have sunk on the shore,

The sea sleeps in murmurs, the tempest is o'er.

O thus, when my soul on life's ocean is tost,

That sea without a calm;

When faith shines but dimly, each hope is lost,

And all is rude alarm;

When the waves of remembrance, in mountain-wreaths

roll,

When the billows of sin have gone over my soul:

At the Cross of the Sufferer, while humbled to weep, I mourn my stubborn will,

Do thou, in compassion, rebuke the deep,

And whisper" Peace! be still!"

The billows, obedient, will die on the shore,

The sea sleep in murmurs, the tempest be o'er.

STANZAS.

LOOK AT T'OTHER SIDE."

WHEN JIM, one day, with brother JoE,
A simple, thoughtless clown;
With father's leave, set out to go

And see the shows in town:

It chanced, with idly gaping round,
Each wonder to descry;

An orange fair and seeming sound,
Caught Joe's attentive eye.

Joe gazed awhile, and quick had bought,
Whith haste and chuckling pride;

But Jim, a youth of keener thought,
Said," look at t'other side!"

Joe viewed again, without ado,
And questioned well his sight;
For underneath, half hid from view,
The fruit was rotten quite: