Is not His voice in evening's gale?
Beams not in Him the star so pale?
Is there a leaf can fade or die,
Unnoticed by His watchful eye?

Each fluttering hope, each anxious fear,
Each lonely sigh, each silent tear,
To thine Almighty Friend are known,
And sayest thou, "I am all alone ? "

CONDER.

THE NATIVITY.

WHEN Jordan hushed his waters still,
And silence slept on Zion's hill;

When Bethlehem's shepherds through the night
Watched o'er their flocks by starry light;

Hark! from the midnight hills around,

A voice of more than mortal sound,
In distant Hallelujahs stole,

Wild murmuring o'er the raptured soul.

Then, swift to the uplifted eye,

New streams of glory light the sky;
Heaven bursts her azure gates to pour

Her Angels to the midnight hour.

On wheels of light, on wings of flame,
The glorious Hosts of Zion came;

High Heaven with songs of triumph rang,
While thus they struck their harps and sang :

O Zion! lift thy raptured eye,
The long expected hour is nigh;
The joys of nature rise again,

The PRINCE of Salem comes to reign.

See, Mercy from her golden urn

Pours a rich stream to them that mourn;

Behold, she binds with tender care
The bleeding bosom of despair.

He comes to cheer the trembling heart;
Bids Satan and his host depart;

Again the day star gilds the gloom,
Again the bowers of Eden bloom.

O Zion! lift thy raptured eye,
The long expected hour is nigh;
The joys of nature rise again,

The PRINCE of Salem comes to reign.

T. CAMPBELL.

TIME.

WHY sittest thou by that ruined hall,
Thou aged carle, so stern and grey;
Dost thou its former pride recall,
Or ponder how it passed away?

"Knowest thou not me?" the deep voice cried,
"So long enjoyed, so oft mis-used,

Alternate in thy fickle pride,

Desired, neglected, and accused?”

"Before my breath, like burning flax,
Man and his marvels pass away;
And changing empires wane and wax,
Are founded, flourish, and decay."

"Redeem mine hours, the space is brief;
While in my glass the sand grains shiver,
And measureless thy joy or grief;

When time and thou shalt part for ever."

LONG years had elapsed since I gazed on the scene, Which my fancy still robed in its freshness of green; The spot where a schoolboy, all thoughtless I strayed, By the side of the stream, in the gloom of the shade.

I thought of the friends who had roamed with me there, When the sky was so blue, and the flowers were so fair, All scattered, all sundered by mountain and wave, And some in the cold silent womb of the grave.

I thought of the green banks that circled around, With wild flowers, with sweet-briar, and eglantine crowned:

I thought of the river, all peaceful and bright,
As the face of the sky on a blue summer night.

And I thought of the trees under which we had strayed,

Of the broad leafy boughs, with their cool dark shade;
And I hoped, though disfigured, some token to find
Of the names, and the carving, impressed on the rind.

All eager I hastened the scenes to behold,
Rendered sacred and dear by the feelings of old;
And I dreamed that, unaltered, my eye should explore,
This refuge, this haunt, this elysium of yore.

"Twas a dream! not a token nor trace could I view
Of the names that I loved, of the trees that I knew!
Like the shadows of night at the dawning of day;
Like a tale that is told, they had vanished away.

And methought the low river that murmured along, Was more dull in its motion, more sad in its song, Since the birds that had nested and warbled above, Had all fled from its banks, at the fall of the grove.

I paused, and the moral came home to my heart,
Behold how of earth all the glories depart!
Our visions are baseless, our hopes but a gleam,
Our staff but a reed, and our life but a dream.

Then Oh! let us look, let our prospects allure
To scenes that can fade not, to realms that endure;
To glories, to blessings, that triumph sublime
O'er the blightings of change, and the ruins of time!

THE CHRISTIAN WARFARE.

SOLDIER, go; but not to claim

Mouldering spoils of earth-born treasure ;

Not to build a vaunting name,

Not to dwell in tents of pleasure.

Dream not that the way is smooth,
Hope not that the thorns are roses.
Turn no wishful eye of youth,
Where the sunny beam reposes.
Thou hast sterner work to do,

Haste to cut thy passage through;
Close behind thee gulfs are burning:
Forward!-there is no returning.

Soldier, rest; but not for thee

Spreads the world her downy pillow;