And dazzling scenes had met his gaze,
The glare of pride, the pomp of power,
And he had walk'd mid wealth's full blaze,
Till wonder lost its feverish hour.

But that sweet girl, with noble zeal,
Amid the throng that round him press'd,
Oft to his side would gently steal,

And seek t'instruct her princely guest.
She taught his lips to move in prayer,

To breathe those words. so soft, so mild The Saviour spoke, when, ling'ring here, He walked with sinners undefiled.

And oft she raised her beaming eye

To mark the glance he upward gave, When first he raised his voice on high

And bless'd Him who has power to save.

Bright angels, on their starry wings,

Beheld the scene with rich delight; And touch'd their sweet celestial strings, In yonder realms of perfect light.

Fair teacher!-may thy generous soul
Its rich reward from mercy gain,

When, as eternal ages roll,

Thy charge shall swell th' entrancing strain;

And bow with thee before the throne,

With uncreated splendour bright,

Where sits the high and holy One,

Robed in the beams of living light.

FRIENDS LOST IN EIGHTEEN HUNDRED AND THIRTY-THREE.

BY THE REV. H. F. LYTE, A. M.

GONE?-have ye all then gone—

The good, the beautiful, the kind, the dear?

Passed to your glorious rest so swiftly on,
And left me weeping here?

I gaze on your bright track;

I hear your lessening voices as ye go.
Have

ye no sign, no solace, to fling back
To us who toil below ?

They hear not my faint cry,

Beyond the range of sense for ever flown.

I see them melt into eternity,

And feel I am alone.

To the high haven passed,

They anchor far above the skaith of ill;
While the stern billow, and the reckless blast,
Are mine to cope with still.

Oh! from that land of love,

Look ye not sometimes on this world of wo?
Think ye not, dear ones, in bright bowers above
Of those you left below?