They come with banner, steed, and plume,
Across the dim horizon's gloom;

They come in fearful silence first,
Then forth the pealing clarions burst,
And forty thousand voices raise
To God their battle hymn of praise.

"Prepare to meet thy God, prepare!"
The solemn words repeat,

And the cadence of their harmony
Is awful, yet how sweet.

For voices mingle in that strain
That ne'er shall sound on earth again;
A few brief hours, night's sable pall
On yonder scene sublime shall fall;
But on that field shall thousands keep
Their rest, but not the rest of sleep.

But look! the clouds are breaking now,
The mist has cleared away,

And the noon-day sun looks brightly down
Upon that dread array.

One ever yet unconquer'd leads ;-
Ye know-ye trust him, gallant Swedes!
Amidst the battle's deepest night,

Upon his spirit shines the light;
Yet blends he with the laurel crown
A wreath of holier renown.

The awful moment comes at last.
Amidst the clang of steel,
The volleying thunders of the gun,
The cannon's deaf'ning peal,
In dread confusion blend and rise
The shock, the shout, the battle cries.
Still hangs o'er all the deep blue sky
Its calm, unclouded vault on high;
Oh! many a time on such a scene,
Those azure heavens have smiled serene.

'Tis eve! the sun is sinking fast,—

The bloody day is done;

For conscience, truth, and liberty,
That glorious fight is won.

The Swede has conquer'd! German soil
Again shall yield him noble spoil;
Go! raise the shout of triumph proud,
Amidst the war-notes pealing loud;
Swell high the trump, the clarion's voice,
And bid the victor host rejoice.

What! silent all, and sad, and still!
They raise no joyous cry!

No tones of proud thanksgiving swell!
No martial notes reply!

Oh! oft has victory twined ere now
The cypress wreath around her brow,
But never yet so mournful seem'd
As by that orphan'd host esteem'd;
That host, whose tears of heart-wrung grief
Flow for their noble, matchless Chief!

Oh! many a year, as years roll on,
Shall Sweden weep that day;
Pale, cold, amidst his warrior bands,
A mangled corse he lay.

They fought like lions in the toil,

To win from wrong that precious spoil ;-
'Twas won, and vengeance too was won
Before the bloody fight was done;
Now softer, milder tears might fall
Upon the dark funereal pall.

I ween there was no heart on earth

Could bear that scene unmoved; Never was monarch so revered, And never man so loved.

But other eyes must weep for him,
Weep all their beaming lustre dim;
One mourner yet-she was not there-
Woe, woe for her! the loved, the fair,
Whose heart beneath that awful stroke
Was crush'd, although it was not broke.

But glancing backwards, through the mists
That shroud the mighty past,
We scan it 'neath the soft'ning veil

By time and distance cast.

Though short thy course and sad thy lot,

Yet, hero, yet we mourn thee not;
Still has thy track a sunset glow

Of holy radiance left below;

And steadfast as thine own our trust,

Thy God shall raise thee with the just.

DEBORAH.

THE BIBLE IN EVERY LAND.

THE JESUIT AND THE CHILD.

THE following fact has just occurred in one of the northern departments of France :—

Two or three years back some worthy peasants, becoming embarrassed in their affairs, were under the necessity of parting with their seven children; and they got those who were of sufficient age into service with the neighbouring farmers. Their greatest difficulty was in finding a suitable place for their youngest daughter, a girl of about ten years of age. At length, however, they heard of a respectable family, the heads of which were looking out for such an assistant in their household concerns. A few days before the girl left the paternal roof, one of our colporteurs called at the house, and was particularly struck with the seriousness with which she listened to what he

said about the Scriptures. At her pressing entreaties the father was prevailed upon to buy a New Testament for her.

She took it with her on going to her new abode, with the avowed determination of making a daily use of it. She learnt that she must entreat the Lord for faith to believe in His word. She therefore prayed night and morning before beginning to read her book: nothing could withdraw her from this practice. To accomplish this, she was obliged to sit up later and get up earlier than the rest of the family; she had to bear the jokes of her fellow-servants older than herself. But nothing deterred her; and the Lord soon granted her all the blessings with which such perseverance is invariably attended. She became a decided Christian.

Her employers were at first struck with her good behaviour: no fault had they to find with the manner in which she performed the duties assigned to her. One thing alone displeased her mistress; she had declared that, from motives of conscience, no one could make her attend mass. The lady spoke of the matter to her husband, who, in his devotion, consulted his confessor on the subject-a Jesuit of great renown. A few day afterwards, the Abbé in question, who was the religious director of persons only of the first rank, deigned to converse with the little maid. On learning that it was the reading of the New Testament which had plunged her into what he styled the most detestable heresy, he tried at first words of kindness; but, finding them useless, he proceeded to the most terrible threats, with a view of inducing the little girl to deliver her book into his hands. But it was all labour lost; and the priest, after more than an hour's contest, went away vanquished by the firmness of the little maid.

He then, it seems, ordered the master and mistress to take the poisonous book from one who had already

made so bad a use of it. The little girl watched with greater care than ever over her treasure which it was now sought to deprive her of. As her New Testament was one of the smallest size, it was easy for her always to have it about her without its being seen. At night her precious book was placed under her pillow; but her great care was to learn every day by heart a number of passages, so that if the attempt to deprive her of the word of God were successful, she might still possess a source of edification. It was well for her that she did this; for being betrayed by a fellow-servant, her mistress, one night, while she was soundly asleep, succeeded in laying hold of the New Testament, which the next day was forwarded in triumph to the Jesuit, to be by him committed to the flames.

The sorrow of the little girl was intense, and it was only assuaged by a repetition of the consoling passages which she was able to recall to memory. It seemed to her, when repeating them to herself evening and morning at her devotions, that these passages affected her much more than when she had read them from her book.

In the meanwhile, trials of various kinds came upon the family in whose service she was: pecuniary losses, and the death of beloved offspring, plunged the master and mistress of our young friend into mourn ing and tears. The afflicted ones, in the first instance, had recourse to their confessor: numerous masses were said, and an abundance of candles burnt; but, alas! their sorrow remained as deep as ever, and consolation they found not.

The little servant did not look on with a dry eye: her heart sympathized with their affliction: she implored, on behalf of her employers, that comfort which proceeds alone from the Supreme Comforter.

One evening, when she thought herself secure from any disturbance, she, on her bended knees, in her