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Can the huge mountains hide me in some cave
Which, unexplored, from age to age hath stood
In gloomy solitude ? or ocean's wave
Bury me deep beneath the briny flood ?-
Vain is the fleeting hope, the rolling surge
Stops at the sandy barrier; at His word
The proud waves stay, and to their utmost

verge The firm rocks shake, and own their Maker,

God. Is there no cleansing stream, no refuge, say, To hide my soul, and wash my guilt away ?

Peace, troubled spirit-stay the flowing tears,
Calm thy deep grief, and cast away despair ;
In Gilead's land a healing balm appears,
A cleansing stream, a kind Physician there.
A Saviour's blood has flowed to make thee

whole, In willing love He bowed His head and died;

In glory, now, He still invites thy soul
To rest in Him, and in His care confide.
Trust in His love, a Saviour's call attend,
And cast thyself upon the sinner's Friend.

THE RUFFLED NEST.

“As an eagle stirreth up her nest, fluttereth over her young, spreadeth abroad her wings, taketh them, beareth them on her wings; so the Lord alone did lead him, and there was no strange God with him."Deut. xxxii. 11, 12.

He hath stirred up thy nest, His chastening

hand Has touched thy pleasant gourds, thy brightest

hopes Of happiness, that in this foreign land Thou mayest not linger by the sunny slopesThe rich and verdant plains, but speed thy way To the bright realms of everlasting day.

He hath stirred up thy nest, to make thee feel
Thou hast no portion in this land of woe;
A life of ease, of earthly joy might steal
Thy heart from heaven, and chain thy thoughts

below. Love rules the dealings of thy gracious God, Then faint thou not, but kiss the chastening

rod. What hast thou here? a frail and shattered tent All weather-worn, and rocked by every blast. Loosen'd the tottering stakes, the canvass rent, The cordage rotten-it must fall at last. What hast thou there! a mansion in the skies, A radiant home, too bright for mortal eyes.

Linger not here, e'en by the murm’ring fount, Or palm tree's pleasant shade, but onward

move, And climb with eager foot the heavenly mount, Dwell in the sheltering rock, the cleft of love,

Till Christ, thy glorious Lord, with clouds shall

come, And call thee hence, to share His heavenly

home.

SPRING.

"For, lo, the winter is past, the rain is over and gone; the flowers appear on the earth, the time of the singing of birds is come, and the voice of the turtle is heard in our land; the fig tree putteth forth her green figs, and the vines with the tender grape give a good smell. Arise my love, my fair one, and come away."-Canticles ii. 11–13.

WINTER is over, with its chilling rains,
And the stern frost that bound in icy chains
The mourning earth, has melted in the stream
Of living light poured from the sun's bright

beam. Fresh from her death-like sleep, Creation wakes, And, with a bound, to life and beauty breaks.

The woody glades, and sloping valleys ring With Nature's choir, the warbling birds of

Spring. Deep in the forest shades, the gentle dove Breathes her low notes of melody and love, And childhood looks with rapture at the sky, Bright as the blue of his own laughing eye; Then plucks the primrose pale and violet sweet That deck the springiug turf beneath his feet. Tis Nature's holiday, and every hour Breathes a fresh loveliness o'er tree and flower.

Winter is over, and the new-born soul
Basks in the beams of heaven, that now control
With genial influence, the life divine,
Springing from Christ, the true and living vine.
Bright as the shining sun His glories rise,
And drive the gloomy shadows from the skies.
The iron chains that Satan cast around
The captive soul, fall powerless to the ground.

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