Yes, thou must sicken, thou must die,
The hour is fix'd — it may be nigh.

Yet weep not in despair: ah! see,

A victim bleeds, He bleeds for thee;
The thorns thy sin had sown He wears;
The death thou earn'dst, for thee He bears;
Then rises from the grave, that thou
Might'st find in death a baffled foe.

Still weep'st thou? ay, but hope and love
Thy spirit's depths now gently move;
Contrition meek-not guilty fears,

Has op'd a fount of holier tears:
Such tears bespeak a soul forgiven,

Such tears awaken joy in heaven.

And does no change, no second birth,

Await the desolated earth?

Yes, earth,

sore smitten for man's sake,
Shall of his glorious change partake.
Arise, O Lord! disperse the gloom,
Redeemer, let thy kingdom come!

THE EVERGREEN THORN.

MESPILUS PYRACANTHA.

"Phillyria, here, and pyracantha spread
Their verdant foliage, and berries red
In glowing clusters."

THIS well-known shrub is a native of the south of Europe: it also grows plentifully on Mount Caucasus, in the Chersonesus, and in China. It was introduced here early in the seventeenth century, but has never yet got beyond the pale of the garden or shrubbery, notwithstanding Evelyn's hint that it might be cultivated, with little trouble, for fences and other common purposes. "The pyracantha, paliurus, and like preciouser sorts of thorns and robust evergreens, adorned with caralin berries," says he, "might easily be propagated by seeds, layers, or cuttings, into plenty sufficient to store even these vulgar uses, were men industrious; and then how beautiful and sweet our fields would be! For there are none of the spinous shrubs more hardy, none that make a more glorious show, none fitter for our defence." But, surely, it would be a sight scarcely less strange than

unwelcome to see our native hawthorn and holly supplanted even by this pretty foreigner, which we have hitherto only been accustomed to observe trained against houses or walls as an ornamental covering.

The pyracantha puts forth its bunches of delicate white flowers in May, and may claim admiration even then, when the garden is in its glory; but it is when the fascinations of spring, and summer, and autumn are over that it is most attractive. Greeting us, when there is little else to cheer, with its verdant foliage and beautiful scarlet clusters, it reminds us of some friend, who, though always kind and ready to serve us, reserves his tenderest and warmest affection for the hour of adversity. In common with all other trees whose fruit ripens in the winter, it affords the birds a most timely supply of sustenance, and thus,

"For every song that made their summer merry,
The shrubs repay in winter with a berry.”"

The beauty of its aspect in that dreary season, and the associations to which it gives rise, are alluded to in the following lines, which were presented to a beloved friend on her birthday in December.