The Field, the World.

CONSIDER thou,-the world in which we live
Is God's great field for wise experiment;
Wherein, except what mercy must forgive,

All else goes on by rule and measurement, True root and fruit, fit cause and consequent: And angels watch it all; those loving minds Note every just effect and mean and cause,

And each Intelligence delighted finds

In all the working of eternal laws,

And so adores the Ruler: faith in Him

Makes every riddle clear that else were dim;

And all our trials to one issue tend,

That issue, dear to saints and cherubim,

GOD's glory, our beginning, middle, end.

a Generous Youth.

I.

child of feeling,

led eye and kindly heart

revealing

ng and how true thou art,

men will use thee,

while they use contemn,

ir turn refuse thee

that thou hast yielded them.

II.

Yet holy angels love thee,

And yearningly they shield from harm As glorious guards above thee

A spirit found so fresh and warm ; And God Himself doth bless thee,

And all the souls made perfect now

In sympathy caress thee,

Kissing thine illumined brow!

III.

Still, while I praise thy beauty,

Thy characters of lovely light,

In friendship's tender duty

I counsel thee, dear youth, aright:

Remember one true sentence

That "pearls should not be cast to swine,”

And never shall repentance

Becloud one generous act of thine.

Time's Honour.

THE attributes of GOD are all in all

Of beauty and of glory: man admireth

In creature-excellence despite the fall

Just what reflected Deity inspireth:

So cometh it, that loveliness hath love,
Truth doth enchant, and Mighty Force appal:

And, as The Father is enthroned above,

"Ancient of Days,”—Antiquity requireth

Man's homage for such nearness to his GOD: And so, when ancestry beneath the sod,

And old old woods, and rooftree black with age, To modern days reflect an ancient fame Enshrined in history's medieval page,

These paint the gilded halo round a Name.

A Thought in a Thoroughfare.

SURGING on in ceaseless shoals

Thousands of immortal souls,

Wave on wave of restless life

Crested rough with selfish strife,—

What a cavalcade comes nigh

In this crowd of passers by!

O the sorrows, pains, and cares,—

O the troubles, sins, and snares,—

O the histories past belief

Piled with wrong and soak'd in grief,—

O the hidden woes that lie

In this crowd of passers by!