Thy mortal sweetness, smitten
To scourge our souls from sin,
Is on our memory written,

And treasured deep therein;

While that which is immortal
Fond hope doth still retain,
And saith, "at heaven's bright portal
Ye all shall meet again."

Those heavenly habitations, where the souls of them that sleep in the Lord Jesus enjoy perpetual rest and felicity.

S. WILBERFORCE.

I NEVER watched upon a wilder night-
The maddened hurricane swept fiercely by,
And shook his sounding wings-Impatiently,
As wrathful men in anguish, for his flight
The tossing trees bowed down their heads of might.
To the rude war of earth, and sea, and sky,

I scarce could close at last my weary eye :—
Again I look, before the morning light,
And all is changed-In softest lullabies

The breeze just whispers ; o'er the countless ranks
Of Heaven's great host the mildest moonlight lies,
Like some broad stream fast sleeping in its banks.
The deep calm spake of rest in Paradise;

I thought upon my dead-and gave God thanks.

The souls of them that sleep in the Lord Jesus enjoy perpetual rest and felicity.

THE SLEEP.

PSALM CXXVII. 2.

ELIZABETH B. BARRETT.

Of all the thoughts of God that are
Borne inward unto souls afar,
Along the Psalmist's music deep-
Now tell me if that any is,

For gift or grace, surpassing this-
"He giveth His beloved, sleep?"

What would we give to our beloved?
The hero's heart, to be unmoved—
The poet's star-tuned harp, to sweep—
The senate's shout for patriot vows—
The monarch's crown to light the brows?
"He giveth His beloved, sleep."

What do we give to our beloved?
A little faith, not all unproved-

A little dust, to overweep-
And bitter memories, to make

The whole earth blasted for our sake?

"He giveth His beloved, sleep."

Sleep soft, beloved! we sometimes say,
But have no power to charm away

Sad dreams that through the eyelids creep :
But never doleful dream again

Shall break the happy slumber, when

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He giveth His belovèd, sleep.”

O earth, so full of dreary noises!
O men, with wailing in your voices!
O delved gold, the wailers heap!
O strife, O curse, that o'er it fall!
God makes a silence through you all,
And "giveth His beloved, sleep."

His dews drop mutely on the hill;
His cloud above it, saileth still,

Though on its slope men toil and reap!
More softly than the dew is shed,

Or cloud is floated overhead,

"He giveth His beloved, sleep."

Yea! men may wonder, while they scan
A living, thinking, feeling man
Sufficient such a rest to keep;

But angels say—and through the word
The motion of their smile is heard-

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He giveth His beloved, sleep."

For me, my heart,—that erst did go
Most like a tired child at a show,

Seeing through tears the juggler leap

Would fain its wearied vision close,
And childlike on His love repose,

Who "giveth His beloved, sleep."

And friends!-dear friends,-when it shall be
That this low breath is gone
from me,-

When round my bier ye come to weep;
Let one, most loving of you all,

Say, "Not a tear must o'er her fall-
"He giveth His beloved, sleep."

Our Lord Jesus Christ, who liveth and reigneth with Thee and the Holy Ghost, ever one God,

AN EASTER HYMN.

T. BLACKBURNE.

AWAKE, thou wintry earth,
Fling off thy sadness;

Fair vernal flowers, laugh forth
Your ancient gladness:
Christ is risen.

Wave, woods, your blossoms all,

Grim death is dead;
Ye weeping funeral trees,

Lift up your head:

Christ is risen.

Come, see, the graves are green ;

It is light; let's go Where our loved ones rest

In hope below:

Christ is risen.

All is fresh and new,

Full of spring and light;

Wintry heart, why wearest the hue
Of sleep and night?
Christ is risen.

Leave thy cares beneath,
Leave thy worldly love;

Begin the better life

With God above:

Christ is risen.