and thankfully we turn to our own favoured island, externally, indeed, "less winning fair," but blest with the "light that leads to heaven;" and whilst ours is that inspired volume which directs fallen man to "the Tree whose leaves are for the healing of the nations," whilst we live under a mild government and equal laws,

"Let India boast her plants, nor envy we

The weeping amber, and the balmy tree,
While by our oaks the precious loads are borne,
And realms commanded which those trees adorn."

But this should not be our only feeling: the more we appreciate our own advantages, the more desirous should we be to extend them to others; and, both nationally and individually, help on the day, when one song shall employ all people," Worthy is the Lamb that was slain !"

O shame on thee, thou peerless tree,
That such debasing task is thine,

To yield thy boasted fragrancy
As incense on an idol's shrine !'

Such were my musings as I caught

The lovely Sandal's perfumed sigh: Then paused, heart-stricken, for methought Elsewhere the censure might apply.

Born in an age, a land, of light,
'Tis true I yield not worship vain
To sun by day, to moon by night,
Or golden image on the plain:

Yet often at that solemn hour
When to my closet I repair,

And fain 'gainst all would "shut the door,"
Save Him, who hears and answers prayer;

Yea, even then, oh, thought abhorr'd!
How do I start appall❜d to find
That "other gods beside the Lord"
Within my bosom are enshrined!

Some thought I care not to control,

Some cherished friend, some darling aim:

These have the homage of my soul,

E'en whilst I name Jehovah's name.

Then point the well-earn'd censure home Erst lavish'd on the sandal tree,

Till never more an idol come,

False heart! between thy God and thee.

For thee, fair tree, whose sweets misplaced, Have roused this self-condemning strain, Grateful, I wish thou ne'er may'st waste Those sweets on idol-shrine again.

No! soon may He, — whose word is might,

His glory in the heathen's sight,

That shrine and votary both may fail.

May Error's darkling shades depart
Where'er His banners are unfurl'd;

His altar be the human heart,

His temple a converted world!