THE VALEDICTION.

Time posteth, oh, how fast!
Unwelcome death makes haste,

None can call back what's past,

Judgment delays not:

Though God bring in the light,

Sinners awake not; Because hell's out of sight,

They sin forsake not.

Man walks in a vain show,
They know, yet will not know,
Sit still when they should go;

But run for shadows:

While they might taste and know

The living streams that flow

And crop the flowers that grow,

In Christ's sweet meadows.

Life's better slept away,

Than as they use it:

In sin and drunken play,

Vain men abuse it.

Malignant world, adieu !

Where no foul voice is new,

Only to Satan true,

God still offended:

Though taught and warn'd by God,

And his chastising rod,

Keeps still the way that's broad,

Never amended.

Baptismal vows some make,

But ne'er perform them; If angels from heaven spake, "Twould not reform them.

BAXTER

The Resurrection.

"Twas in the middle watch of night, when darkness hung profound About the city of the Lord, and Judah's heights around,

That at the portal of a tomb a Roman guard patroll'd—

A new-made grave, against whose mouth a mighty stone was roll'd.

Slow tramp'd the guard, and hollowly the armour's clank was heard,
For all was still upon the hill, and not a vine-leaf stirr'd;
The neighbouring city silent heaved, in hush'd and heavy dream,
And sleep outspread with wings of lead hung o'er Jerusalem.

The listless soldier's heart was back to his far-distant home,
Where red the Tiber roll'd along by old familiar Rome;
A spell was cast across the past, and shapes of things gone by
Came back distinct upon his soul, and pass'd portentously.

Then thoughts arose of where he was, the story of the land,
The mystic spirit here adored, the marvels of His hand,

The rumour of divinity beneath that tombstone there;

And closer to his band he drew, and moved his lips in prayer.

Whisper'd the palm-trees, stirr'd the grass, on Kedron's banks below;
The rushes shiver'd; was't a breeze that shook the mountain so?
It gathers, strengthens; from above a burst of thunder breaks,
And horribly beneath their feet the earth's foundation shakes!

A step is in the earthquake, and a voice upon the storm;

Jehovah's angel hath come down, reveal'd in human form;
Straight to the sepulchre he strides, rolls back the pondrous stone,
And in a flood of glory forth the Crucified hath gone!

THE RESURRECTION.

Nor witness'd this by mortal eye, for struck with sore dismay,
The steel-clad heathens fell to earth, and like the lifeless lay;
And when the vision disappear'd, they rallied not again,
But rose and hasted from the spot, like conscience-stricken men.

'Tis past and all hath long been hush'd,—the fading stars are set,
And now the early lines of light gleam o'er Mount Olivet,
When two worn, weeping women come-rebuke them not this morn;
The grateful heart will hover near, though all should laugh to scorn.

They stop-the stone is roll'd away-they look, and quake at heartThere are the grave-clothes scatter'd round; the napkin wrapp'd apart;— The tenant's fled, but, in his stead, One of seraphic mien

Sits smiling where the mangled corse of Him they sought had been.

Why, daughters of Jerusalem, why bow ye thus the knee?
Seek ye the man whose life-blood ran from yon accursed tree?
Go-be of comfort; he hath left this dark and cheerless prison;
The work is done, and Mary's son, the Lord of lords, is risen!

When man would bend in pain of heart o'er some beloved tomb,
Oh, may a voice as sweet as this make answer from the gloom-
That when the bitterness of death to dust directs the eyes,
An angel may be waiting there, to turn them to the skies!