Ан, how wonderful is the advent of Spring!-the great annual miracle of the blossoming of Aaron's rod, repeated on myriads and myriads of branches!-the gentle progression and growth of herbs, flowers, trees-gentle, and yet irrepressible-which no force can stay, no violence restrain, like love, that wins its way and cannot be withstood by any human power, because itself is divine power. If Spring came but once in a century, instead of once a year, or burst forth with the sound of an earthquake, and not in silence, what wonder and expectation would there be in all hearts to behold the miraculous change!

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THE STORM.

That bolt, that voice, from heaven to heaven,
Their course, their charge by Thee are given;
And Thou, as merciful as dread,

Wilt keep them from Thy suppliant's head.

To sun and shade, to calm and shower,
Thou, only Thou, assign'st the hour-
Serene upon the tempest's wing,
As in the softest gale of Spring.

When ocean wears its halcyon hue,
Its matchless depth of native blue;
When wave on wave subsides to rest,
Thy Spirit broods upon its breast.

Or when those waves, convulsed and high,
Urge stern revolt against the sky;
When winds and rain, in mingled might,
More deeply cloud the powers of night;-

When masts are bowed, and sails are rent;
When skill and strength alike are spent ;
When danger rears its giant form,-
Thy gracious eye controls the storm.

Our hope, our comfort, staff and rod,
Are but Thy presence, glorious God!
In that confiding, safe we go,
Nor dread the storm, nor fear the foe.

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EARLY SPRING.

WINTER is past-the little bee resumes

Her share of sun and shade, and o'er the lea Hums her first hymnings to the flowers' perfumes, And wakes a sense of gratefulness in me : The little daisy keeps its wonted place,

Ere March by April gets disarmed of snow; A look of joy opes on its smiling face,

Turned to that Power that suffers it to blow.

Ah, pleasant time! yet, pleasing as you be,
One still more pleasing Hope reserves for me,

Where suns, unsetting, one long Summer shine, Flowers endless bloom, where Winter ne'er destroys: O may the good man's righteous end be mine, That I may witness these unfading joys!

RETURN OF MARCH.

THE Stormy March is come at last,

With wind and cloud and changing skies:

I hear the rushing of the blast,

That through the snowy valley flies.

RETURN OF MARCH.

Ah! passing few are those who speak,

Wild, stormy month, in praise of thee! Yet, though thy winds are loud and bleak, Thou art a welcome month to me.

For thou to northern lands again

The glad and glorious sun dost bring;
And thou hast joined the gentle train,
And wear'st the gentle name of Spring.

And in thy reign of blast and storm

Smiles many a long bright sunny day; When the changed winds are soft and warm, And heaven puts on the blue of May.

Then sing aloud the gushing rills,

And the full springs from frost set free,

That, brightly leaping down the hills,
Are just set out to meet the sea.

The year's departing beauty hides

Of wintry storms the sullen threat;

But in thy sternest frown abides

A look of kindly promise yet.

Thou bring'st the hope of those calm skies,
And that soft hue of sunny showers,

When the wide bloom on earth that lies,
Seems of a brighter world than ours.

I

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