MARK XIII. 2.

"Seest thou these great buildings? there shall not be left one stone upon another, that shall not be thrown down."

BRIGHT as the summer clouds that sail,
Borne onward by the western gale,

And float amid the skies:

Or like the wreaths of Alpine snow,
That in the morning sun-beams glow;
Thy towers, O Salem, rise.

A thousand marble columns gleam,
And stately domes, amid the stream
Of sunshine, glow with light:

The palaces where monarchs dwelt,
The shrines and altars where they knelt,
Burst forth upon the sight.

High over all the hallowed scene

The temple of the Lord is seen,

Where once his glory shone,

Where nought might break the long repose,
Save when the choral hymn arose,

Before Jehovah's throne:

Or when, amid the weeping throng,
Some priest or prophet's hallowed song
Proclaimed each coming ill,

Then, melting into words of peace,
Bade the soft floods of sorrow cease,

And whispered, 'Peace, be still.'

But now is every sculptured stone
In wild and sad confusion thrown,
And sunk beneath the sod:

No more those hallowed strains ascend-
No more those sainted monarchs bend,
And call upon their God.

Mark how the waving flames on high,
Cast their wild horrors o'er the sky,
And blaze with deathly light,

And when the fires exhausted cease,
The city, once of joy and peace,
Has sunk in utter night.

And thus the world shall pass away,
It shall not moulder to decay,
It shall not gently die;

But, wrapt in wild terrific fire,
A tossed and blazing wreck expire,
And burst amid the sky.

See, o'er the surface of the deep
The heaven-commissioned whirlwinds sweep,
While all around beneath

Now glows intense with fires below,
Now stunned beneath the mighty woe,
Sinks amid shades of death.

That day-no sun shall burst the gloom:
That night-no star shall shine, no moon
Her soothing influence shed;

In darkness and in silence, all
Shall hear the archangel trumpet call,
The voice that wakes the dead.

Saviour! the tempest blast is chill,
But thou canst bid the winds be still,
And bind the stormy wave:

Drear is the moonless starless night,
But thou art there, a soothing light,
To shine, and guide, and save.

Saviour! on thee thy people call,
By every changeless word, by all

Thy great and glorious power;
And more-by every tear and sigh,
By every human sympathy,

Oh! save me in that hour!

LAICUS.

HINTS TO GOVERNESSES.

MADAM,

THE insertion of my letter on the subject of 'Governesses,' induces me to send you a few more remarks in continuation.

My former letter was intended to shew that the disagreeables and annoyances of which governesses so frequently complain, more, it is to be feared in anger than in sorrow, generally originate in part, at least, with themselves. How far many of the troubles of life, I might say all the troubles incident to humanity, are aggravated by the sufferer, even if they have not their origin in his or her own sin or imprudence, is one of those questions which man may propose, but which man cannot answer. thing however is certain—“ It is hard to kick against the pricks," and the burdens incident to our situation in life, be that situation what it may, are less felt, when they are submissively and cheerfully borne.

One

I say cheerfully, for there is hardly any circumstance which can befal us, which may not be viewed on two sides;-and it is the part of wisdom-of that wisdom which "is the principal thing"-of that understanding which we are commanded "with all our getting to get "-to see things on the bright side, so that every cross, as well as every comfort, may be the means, under the blessing of God, of teaching us to "rejoice in the Lord alway."

1 know that there is such a thing as a false colouring; I know deeply, experimentally, painfully, the deceptive power of imagination; the Claude Lorraine glass which casts the tints of midnight, as well as of meridian sunshine, over the commonest landscape, and makes the things that are not, appear as if they were. But this is very far from what I am wishing to recommend. That intellectual dram drinking, which throws the mind into a fever-and which, if it gives, like the more vulgar but scarcely more dangerous species of intoxication, during the state of excitement, an increase of power, is likewise attended, during the state of collapse, by depression of spirits in an extreme degree-is not to be more dreaded, more deprecated, than calm, cheerful equanimity is to be sought and cherished; that equanimity which has a higher origin than earth, and which has been described by the pen of inspiration, to be " righteousness, and peace, and joy in the Holy Ghost."

We all remember a story which is told us in childhood-the quarrel of the knights respecting a shield; brass on one side, silver on the other. There is no law that I know of, to prevent us from gazing, if we choose it, on the more pleasing and valuable metal, for we cannot travel long on the highway of life, without finding many shields of the kind, which the fable describes. There is an excellent little tract, published by the Religious Tract Society, called Contentment and Discontent; which, in plain and familiar language, illustrates this valuable lesson. Two old women are described as nearly as possible, in the same situation and circumstances; one always looks on the bright side, the other on the