There is a world above,

Where parting is unknown;
A long eternity of love,

Formed for the good alone;
And Faith beholds the dying here
Translated to that glorious sphere.

Thus star by star declines,
Till all are passed away,

As morning high and higher shines
To pure and perfect day;

Nor sink those stars in empty night,

But hide themselves in heaven's own light.

MONTGOMERY.

ALL MEN BRETHREN.

HILDREN we are all

Of one great Father, in whatever clime
His providence hath cast the seed of life,

All tongues, all colours; neither after death

Shall we be sorted into languages

And tints,-white, black, and tawny, Greek and Goth,

Northmen, and offspring of hot Africa.

The all-seeing Father, -He in whom we live and

He, the impartial Judge of all,—regards

Nations, and hues, and dialects alike;

According to their works shall they be judged,

When even-handed Justice in the scale

Their good and evil weighs.

SOUTHEY.

CHARITY.

39ERE see, acquitted of all vain pretence,
The reign of genuine Charity commence.
Though scorn repay her sympathetic tears,

She still is kind, and still she perseveres;
The truth she loves, a sightless world blaspheme,
'Tis childish dotage, a delirious dream!
The danger they discern not they deny,
Laugh at their only remedy, and die.

But still a soul thus touched can never cease,
Whoever threatens war, to speak of peace.
Pure in her aim, and in her temper mild,
Her wisdom seems the weakness of a child:
She makes excuses where she might condemn,
Reviled by those that hate her, prays for them;
Suspicion lurks not in her artless breast,
The worst suggested, she believes the best;
Not soon provoked, however stung and teased,
And, if perhaps made angry, soon appeased;
She rather waives than will dispute her right,
And injured makes forgiveness her delight.
Such was the portrait the apostle drew,
The bright original was one he knew

Heaven held his hand, the likeness must be true.

COWPER.

CHARITY.

OFT are the graces that adorn the maidSofter than dew-drops to the sun-burnt glade! She's gracious as an unpolluted stream, And tender as a fond young lover's dream! Pity and Peace precede her as she flies, And Mercy beams benignant from her eyes! From her high residence, from realms above, She comes, sweet messenger of heavenly love!

The lofty pyramid shall cease to live,-
Fleeting the praise such monuments can give;
But Charity, by tyrant Time revered,
Sweet Charity, amidst his ruins spared,
Secures her votaries unblasted fame,
And in celestial annals 'graves their name.

J. W. CUNNINGHAM

CHARITY.

ATHER of heaven! how bright and clear,
Within the record of thy grace,

The truth thy willing servants trace:

Of all the countless gifts that spring
Beneath the shadow of thy wing,
Not one is half so full of thee-
So like thyself-as charity!

Father of might! in ancient days,
Untutored lips thy Spirit caught,
And lisping tongues were instant taught
To show, in varied speech sublime,
Thy truth to men of every clime:

But they who spoke, if owned by thee,
Poured forth the words of charity!

Father of mercy! thou art nigh,
To smile on deeds of tenderness:
And, when afflictions rudely press,
Thou teachest us to scatter wide
The bounty which thy hands provide;
Yet, giving all, we please not thee,
Till warm our hearts with charity!

Father of Him who died to save!
Thou bidst us in his work believe;
By faith alone our souls receive

The free salvation of thy Son—

The crown a dying Saviour won;
But vain e'en faith, as viewed by thee,
That yields not fruit of charity!

Father of love! this gift is thine;
Its deep exhaustless fountain thou!
Lo! at thy mercy-seat we bow-
With conscious need thy grace implore;
Give faith, give hope-yea, give us more
The bond of all that leads to thee,
Heaven's imaged virtue-charity.

HUTTON.

HUMILITY.

OU ask me how the Christian stands
Unharmed by sin and shame:

And how alone 'mid faithless hands

Maintain a virtuous name?

Then tell me how yon towering oak
Endures each angry storm

And still uninjured from the stroke
Uprears its leafy form?

High as beneath the eye of heaven

Its lofty branches rise,

So far, by earthly power unriven,

Its root extended lies.

Thus while the Christian's course is traced

Through higher paths ascending,

The more his spirit sinks abased,

Before his Saviour bending.

ANON

FAITH.

E saw thee not when thou did'st tread,
O Saviour, this our sinful earth,

Nor heard thy voice restore the dead,
And wake them to a second birth;
But we believe that thou didst come,
And quit for us thy glorious home.

We were not with the faithful few

Who stood thy bitter cross around,
Nor heard the prayer for those who slew,
Nor felt that earthquake rock the ground:
We saw no spear-wound pierce thy side;
Yet we believe that thou hast died.

No angel's message met our ear

On that first glorious Easter-day: "The Lord is risen, he is not here;

Come see the place where Jesus lay!" But we believe that thou did'st quell The banded powers of death and hell.

We saw thee not return on high;

And now, our longing sight to bless,
No ray of glory from the sky

Shines down upon our wilderness;
But we believe that thou art there,
And seek the Lord in praise and power.

REV. E. BICKERSTETH.

FAITH.

"And touched the border of his garment."-LUKE viii. 44.

AITH, trusting faith, entire and pure and true,

Urged thee to nearer draw, thou blessed one, And touch his garment hem, and healing drew From love divine, that shone that deed upon;