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IV.

Fallen spouse of the Highest! Heaven's consort dethroned!
Go, read thy dark tale to each wanderer bereaved;
His sin thy rejection-a Saviour disowned:

Thy hope his salvation—a Saviour received.

V.

Turn, Husband of Israel! O turn, and renew

Thine Image divine from earth's contact impure; O wean our weak hearts from all love but the true! O rein our wild hopes from all joy but the sure!

VI.

The severed, the dead, to thy love we entrust,
Too blest to repose in thy bosom alone;—
Yet oh! if one sigh for the treasures of dust

May breathe on the incense that floats to thy throne ; —

VII.

If earth have some hopes which not heaven will condemn,
Some ties which aspire the High Presence to see;

The friends past to glory-O raise us to them!
The friends left in sorrow- -O guide them to Thee!

Rectory, Wrington. August 6, 1830.

PASSAGES.

BY WILLIS GAYLORD CLARK.

"Blessed are they that mourn; for they shall be comforted."

Matthew, v. 4.

YE! who with tearful eyes

Walk through the devious ways of life and mourn,

'Neath ever changing skies ;

;་

Plucking few roses where there lurks no thorn;

And from whose hastening hours few sunny gleams are

born:

Ye! whose rejoicing wave

Of early life, with bitter tides did blend;
Who, in the all-voiceless grave,

Have laid the kind of earth-lover and friend;
Burying with them the joy that other years might lend ;-

And ye! whom sicknesses

And heaviness of heart have chastened down;

Like the autumnal trees,

Stript of the glory of their Summer crown,

While sullen winds fly sad, o'er meadows sere and

brown:

N

Come ye! and from THE WORD Receive deep comfort as your days go by;

Weep not the unrestored;

But looking upward, with Faith's steady eye,
Restrain the unbidden tear, and check the restless sigh.

For blest are they that mourn,

Though dark and sunless all their paths may be;

Though o'er the mouldering urn

They pour the voice of wail, while Memory

Paints all the vanished years which they no more may see.

Thrice blest are they who mourn,

Sorrowing, but with a hope which cheers them on;—
Though friend from friend be torn ;

Though the heart yearns for sweet enjoyments flown,
Stirred by remembered smiles, and love's confiding tone.

Oh! 'tis but for a day

Before these phantoms, like the pall of night,

Will fade and pass away;

Then Heaven will break on the believer's sight,

And earth's dull clouds be lost in blaze of endless light!

Philadelphia, United States, 1829.

A VISIT TO BEACHY HEAD.

BY THE REV. CHAUNCY HARE TOWNSHEND, M.A.

I had never seen Beachy Head. It was near the close of a fine autumn day that this monarch of our English cliffs was pointed out to me by the driver of the coach, on the roof of which I was travelling towards Eastbourne. Probable as it is that my reader may have seen Beachy Head, I will yet describe its peculiar appearance; for I know, by my own feelings, that it is far more pleasant to read the description of a place one has, than that of a place one has not seen. With what delight the inhabitants of our metropolis throng to the panorama of London itself, while each complacently discovers his own house, or at least his own street! A representation of Pekin would not be half so attractive.

Beachy Head, then, is only the seaward termination of that vast ridge, known by the name of the South Downs, which boldly presents its forehead

to the British Channel, and runs back through the interior of Sussex, till it blends with the high ranges of the Kent and Surrey hills. I now beheld this ridge in all its inland length, skirting the horizon with a line which was grand only from its continuity and the elevation at which it was drawn ; for it presented no striking inequalities, and in two places alone rose into abruptness; the one near the centre, the other just before its descent into the ocean, then hidden by intervening headlands. At the time I speak of, the whole range was overspread with a tint of the deepest blue, strongly contrasted with the orange hues of the setting sun.

"Well, that's a fine sight and a grand one!" ejaculated the coachman, as he pointed his whip towards the half-sunk Orb.

I was a little surprised at his sensibility to the beauties of nature; for in all my stage-coach journeyings, I had observed that the extreme indifference with which any striking spectacle of heaven or earth was beheld by the lower orders, could compete with the most chilling apathy of any child of fashion ;-sad proof that the human mind, under all circumstances, is disinclined to regard the operations of the Almighty Hand! In the present

instance our coachman's enthusiasm soon exhausted

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