Where woke the transient smile or tear,
When you and I were boys.

We were youths together,
And castles built in air,
Your heart was like a feather,

And mine weighed down with care;

To you came wealth with manhood's prime,
To me it brought alloys -
Foreshadowed in the primrose time,
When you and I were boys.

We're old men together:

The friends we loved of yore,

With leaves of autumn weather,
Are gone forevermore.

How blest to age the impulse given,
The hope time ne'er destroys,

Which led our thoughts from earth to heaven

When you and I were boys!

NEAR THE LAKE

NEAR the lake where drooped the willow,
Long time ago!

Where the rock threw back the billow,
Brighter than snow,

Dwelt a maid, beloved and cherished
By high and low;

But with autumn's leaf she perished,
Long time ago!

Rock and tree and flowing water,
Long time ago!

Bee and bird and blossom taught her
Love's spell to know.

While to my fond words she listened,
Murmuring low,

Tenderly her dove-eyes glistened,
Long time ago!

Mingled were our hearts forever,
Long time ago!

Can I now forget her?- Never!
No-lost one
- no!
To her grave these tears are given,
Ever to flow:

She's the star I missed from heaven,
Long time ago!

MY MOTHER'S BIBLE

THIS book is all that 's left me now!
Tears will unbidden start,
With faltering lip and throbbing brow
I press it to my heart.

For many generations past,
Here is our family tree;

My mother's hands this Bible clasped,
She, dying, gave it me.

Ah! well do I remember those

Whose names these records bear; Who round the hearth-stone used to close

After the evening prayer,

And speak of what these pages said, In tones my heart would thrill ! Though they are with the silent dead, Here are they living still.

My father read this holy book
To brothers, sisters dear;
How calm was my poor mother's look
Who leaned God's word to hear!
Her angel face -I see it yet!

What vivid memories come!
Again that little group is met
Within the halls of home!

Thou truest friend man ever knew,
Thy constancy I've tried;

Where all were false I found thee true,
My counsellor and guide.

The mines of earth no treasures give
That could this volume buy:

In teaching me the way to live,
It taught me how to die.

WHERE HUDSON'S WAVE

WHERE Hudson's wave o'er silvery sands
Winds through the hills afar,
Old Cronest like a monarch stands,
Crowned with a single star!
And there, amid the billowy swells
Of rock-ribbed, cloud-capped earth,
My fair and gentle Ida dwells,
A nymph of mountain-birth.

JEANNIE MARSH JEANNIE MARSH of Cherry Valley, At whose call the muses rally;

Of all the nine none so divine
As Jeannie Marsh of Cherry Valley.
She minds me of her native scenes,
Where she was born among the cherries;
Of peaches, plums, and nectarines,
Pears, apricots, and ripe strawberries.

Jeannie Marsh of Cherry Valley,
In whose name the muses rally;

Of all the nine none so divine
As Jeannie Marsh of Cherry Valley.
A sylvan nymph of queenly grace,

A goddess she in form and feature;
The sweet expression of the place,
A dimple in the smile of nature.

To thee I'll return, overburdened with care; The heart's dearest solace will smile on me there;

No more from that cottage again will I

roam;

Be it ever so humble, there's no place like home.

Home! Home! sweet, sweet Home! There's no place like Home! there's no place like Home!

JOHN HOWARD PAYNE

EXHORTATION TO PRAYER

NOT on a prayerless bed, not on a prayerless bed

Compose thy weary limbs to rest;
For they alone are blest
With balmy sleep

Whom angels keep;

Nor, though by care opprest,

Or anxious sorrow,

Or thought in many a coil perplexed
For coming morrow,
Lay not thy head
On prayerless bed.

For who can tell, when sleep thine eyer shall close,

That earthly cares and woes
To thee may e'er return?
Arouse, my soul !
Slumber control,

And let thy lamp burn brightly;
So shall thine eyes discern
Things pure and sightly;
Taught by the Spirit, learn

Never on prayerless bed

To lay thine unblest head.

Hast thou no pining want, or wish, or care,
That calls for holy prayer?

Has thy day been so bright
That in its flight

There is no trace of sorrow?
And thou art sure to-morrow

Will be like this, and more Abundant? Dost thou yet lay up thy store And still make plans for more?

Thou fool! this very night
Thy soul may wing its flight.

Hast thou no being than myself more dear,

That ploughs the ocean deep,
And when storms sweep

The wintry, lowering sky,
For whom thou wak'st and weepest?
Oh, when thy pangs are deepest,
Seek then the covenant ark of prayer;
For He that slumbereth not is there -

His ear is open to thy cry.

Oh, then, on prayerless bed
Lay not thy thoughtless head.

Arouse thee, weary soul, nor yield to slumber,

Till in communion blest
With the elect ye rest -

Those souls of countless number;

And with them raise
The note of praise,

Reaching from earth to heaven-
Chosen, redeemed, forgiven;
So lay thy happy head,
Prayer-crowned, on blessed bed.

MARGARET MERCER

FORGIVENESS OF SINS A JOY UNKNOWN TO ANGELS

TREMBLING before thine awful throne,
O Lord! in dust my sins I own:
Justice and Mercy for my life
Contend! Oh, smile, and heal the strife!

The Saviour smiles! Upon my soul
New tides of hope tumultuous roll:
His voice proclaims my pardon found,
Seraphic transport wings the sound!