Thou wast the branch on which, in weakness,
We, early tendrils, fondly hung;

Around thy glorious strength, in meekness,
Our timid woman's love was flung.

Brother! a tie, whose mighty power

Death breaks not, sweetly held us threeNot that we each, in life's first hour,

Drank at one breast, and clasped one knee : Stronger than this- the silken cord That linked our souls in gentle love, The tie that bound us to our Lord So firm below, fails not above.

Brother! the palm at morning towers
Its stem by Jordan's placid stream,
And shows its crown of leaves and flowers,
Bathed in the burning noonday's beam :
At eve, the sorrowing maidens see

The bruised stem, the broken bough:
Weeping the sad beholders we,

-

Prostrate in all thy beauty, thou!

The Master's come! - Him Martha hastes to meet, And falls in tears of anguish at his feet. Why was her earnest, pious suit denied? "Hadst thou been here, my brother had not died; Yet even now, such is thy power with God, He can return, who hath death's valley trod He shall arise in Resurrection's day."

"I am," saith Christ, "the Resurrection! yea,

He that in me believeth, were he dead,

Yet shall he live! Believest thou what I've said?"

He stands beside the grave; He, the grave's King, Spoiler of hell, can spoil Death's lesser sting. Yet Jesus wept : what rich compassions flow From that deep fountain sorrow breaks up so!The stone removed-to Him, by whom is won Victory alone, in praises speaks the Son; That God, the Father, making known His power, Should raise Sin's numerous slain to life this hour: Then, in a voice at which Death, trembling, fled, "LAZARUS! COME FORTH!" he cries. He that was dead Came forth, in grave clothes clad, and, buoyant, trod The green earth-telling Christ is very God!

THAT SAD SECOND CHILDHOOD.

I have wished that sad, second childhood might have a mother still, to lay its head upon her lap. — Elia.

CHILDHOOD, its little grief

May, on its mother's breast,

Lay it, and find relief,

Where childish cares have rest.

But what for Age remains ?

Age,

Where

- with neglect and gloom,— may it hide its pains

But in the friendly tomb?

FELLOWSHIP.

On Saturday, 30th July, I landed at Liverpool; on Sabbath attended service in Dr. Raffles' church; on Monday visited with him several of his members, and in the evening attended a concert of prayer, where, by invitation, I addressed the meeting. There was much feeling-many wept- and I saw, indeed, that the language of Canaan is every where the same. Notes of an American Traveller.

IT IS THE SAME ! wherever men
That love the Saviour meet,

Heart leaps to kindred heart, and then
The interchange is sweet;

Each holds with each communion high,

The sacred kindlings run,

And with imperishable tie,

Their souls are knit in one.

One language speak the saints below,
They speak but one above,.

How readily affections flow,

When that which prompts is love!
For Love's the same in every zone
Where minds, thus taught, adore —

In our America 'tis known,

And on the English shore.

They speak this common language well,
Who own a different speech;

This fellowship has signs that tell

What this alone doth teach;

And he that's skilled in Canaan's tongue, Where'er his foot has trod,

Has found with his, some accent strung In unison to God.

The toiler in his city walls,
The journeyer on the sea,
The dweller of imperial halls,
And he of low degree —
Man, in his northern world of snow,
Who herds from man apart, -

In India's vales, where soft winds blow,
Or Afric's mighty heart, —

The foreigner and he at home,
The stranger by the way,
Whoe'er has enterprize to roam,
Or who content to stay;
If of this holy brotherhood,
Each bosom beats the same,·

And each one in the Son of God
Has part, that wears his name.

Where'er thou stray'st or tarryest, know! If cast with Him thy lot,

Thou mayst not in life's passage go

Where kindred mind is not;

Where is not found some follower still,

His witness in each clime

Men keeping cov'nant, whom He will

Keep when sealed up is time.

THE SILENT STREET.

IN Boston is a street, about a rod

From her famed Common, by men seldom trod;
Never by the mere lounger, or the fair,

To kill off time, or sport attractions there.
'Tis shunned by such as play the flutterer's part
In folly's sunshine; - by the wise in heart
Its thought is entertained. Ranged on each side
Are mansions, not of opulence or pride,
Of structure simple; taste was not invoked
In rearing these. Envy itself, provoked,
Could find no food in gorgeous trappings here.
Yet taste is wanting not, though still severe;
And you may note, in marble, o'er the door,
Each owner's name. Of fame's selectest store
Are some of these. The wise, the good, the great-
And he* among them, whom the cares of state
This moment occupy, - New England's son, —
Confessedly, who has her suffrage won,

And wears it too. His domicil, though fit
before he shall inhabit it,

For use,

May years pass on! —

-

Here, where earth's kindred meet,

And friends convene, how silent is the street!

Each, in due time, takes lodgings, and the gate,
Closed sullenly upon him, seems to wait,

*D-1 W-b-r.