But I know 'tis my parent's breast,-
There held, I must needs be blest;
And with joy, to that promised rest,
I hasten away."

SIR ROBERT GRANT.

A STARLESS CROWN.

"It would be a sad thing to wear a starless crown in heaven."

IF grief in heaven might find a place,
And shame the worshipper bow down,
Who meets the Saviour face to face,
'Twould be to wear a starless crown!

Nor find in all that countless host
We meet before the eternal throne,
Who once like us were sinners lost,
Any to say, we led them home!

The Son, to do his Father's will,

Could lay his own bright crown aside;
The law's stern mandate to fulfil-

Poured out his blood for us and died!

Shall we, who know his wondrous love,
While here below sit idly down?
Ah then,-if we reach heaven above,

There'll be for us a starless crown!

Oh may it ne'er of me be said,

No soul that's saved by grace divine,
Has called for blessings on my head,
Or linked her destiny with mine.

Anon.

"WHY STAND YE IDLE?"

THE God of glory walks his round,
From day to day, from year to year,
And warns us each with awful sound,
"No longer stand ye idle here.

"Ye whose young cheeks are rosy bright,

Whose hands are strong, whose hearts are clear, Waste not of hope the morning light!

Ah, fools! why stand ye idle here?

"Oh, as the griefs ye would assuage, That wait on life's declining year, Secure a blessing for your age,

And work your Master's business here!

"One hour remains, there is but one!
But many a shriek and many a tear
Through endless years the guilt must moan,
Of moments lost and wasted here!"

Oh Thou, by all thy works adored,
To whom the sinner's soul is dear,
Recall us to thy vineyard, Lord!
And grant us grace to please thee here!

BISHOP HEBER.

A MORNING HYMN.

COME, my soul, thou must be waking-
Now is breaking

O'er the earth another day;

Come to Him who made this splendourSee thou render

All thy feeble powers can pay.

From the stars thy course be learning;
Dimly burning,

'Neath the sun, their light grows pale: So let all that sense delighted,

While benighted,

From God's presence fade and fail.

Lo! how all of breath partaking,
Gladly waking,

Hail the sun's enlivening light!

Plants, whose life mere sap doth nourish, Rise and flourish,

When he breaks the shades of night.

Thou, too, hail the light returning—
Ready burning

Be the incense of thy powers;
For the night is safely ended-
God hath tended

With his care, thy helpless hours.

Pray that He may prosper ever
Each endeavour,

When thine aim is good and true,
But that he may ever thwart thee,
And convert thee,

When thou evil wouldst pursue.

Think that He thy ways beholdeth-
He unfoldeth

Every fault that lurks within;
Every stain of shame glossed over,
Can discover,

And discern each deed of sin.

Fettered to the fleeting hours

All our powers,

Vain and brief, are borne away. Time, my soul, thy ship is steering, Onward veering,

To the gulf of death a prey.

Mayst thou, then, on life's last morrow, Free from sorrow,

Pass away

in slumber sweet;

And, released from death's dark sadness,

Rise in gladness,

That far brighter Sun to greet.

Only God's free gifts abuse not,
His light refuse not,

But still his Spirit's voice obey;

Soon shall joy thy brow be wreathing,
Splendour breathing

Fairer than the fairest day.

If aught of care this morn oppress thee,
To Him address thee,

Who, like the sun, is good to all.
He gilds the mountain tops, the while
His gracious smile

Will on the humblest fall.

Round thee, gifts His bounty showers;
Walls and towers

Girt with flames, thy God shall rear;
Angel legions, to defend thee,

Shall attend thee

Hosts whom Satan's self shall fear.

BARON VON CANITZ.

LIFE.

LIFE is onward: use it

With a forward aim;

Toil is heavenly-choose it,
And its warfare claim.

Look not to another

To perform your will;
Let not your own brother
Keep your warm hand still.