brightness of gospel truths, and that the Cross of our Lord shall rise once more triumphantly in that long benighted city where his followers were first distinguished by the name of Christians.

The present appearance of Antioch, as given in the plate, is from a drawing made on the spot during the past year. The View is taken from the heights enclosed within the walls, -the modern town is on the left, and the long range of the broken walls of the ancient city stretching to the right: beyond are glimpses of the river Orontes; the plain is nearly uncultivated, except in the immediate vicinity of the river: the range of mount Amanus, (the Amana of Scripture,) is beyond; and the pass into Cilicia is at the extreme point on the right. There are still leopards and ounces in the fastnesses of the range. In the foreground are native Christians sitting on a tomb; and a fountain, from which women, enveloped in a large white robe, very generally used in the country, are fetching water.

COLLECT.

GRANT, O Saviour, to our prayers,
That this changeful world's affairs,
Ordered by thy governance,
May so peaceably advance,

That thy church with ardour due
May her proper work pursue,

In all godly quietness,

Thro' the Name we ever bless.

J. C.

SONG OF THE HUSSITES.

BY THE HON. AND REV. BAPTIST W. NOEL, M. A.

He is dead! but his spirit lives on,

In the quenchless devotion we feel;

And think not, ye despots, we'll turn at your frown,
Or quail at your fagot and steel.

Ye thought to extinguish his name,

When ye doomed him to death and despair,

When ye laughed as he writh'd in the conquering flame,
And ye drown'd with your curses his prayer.

But he's gone, as a glorious conqueror, home,
And his name shall be hallow'd through ages to come.

Oh! shame on you, worst of your race!

Though you glitter in purple and gold;

Though you hide, by a smiling and sanctified face,

The hearts that are wicked and cold.

Though you serve at the altar of God—

Though loudly your thunders are hurl'd,
And long in your pride have ye scornfully trod
On the neck of a prostrated world,-

Yet millions are learning their rights to discuss,
And heroes shall rise from the ashes of Huss.

How pale and how feeble he lay

In thy desolate vaults, Gottleben!

Shut out from the heart-cheering light of the day,

And driven from the converse of men.

In darkness, in hunger, and pain,

Which the haughtiest spirit can break,

He was linked to the wall by the riveted chain,
And he looked for the torturing stake;

Yet he soared like an eagle away from his care,
And triumph'd where others would sink in despair.

Who are these in their splendour and state

Have come to the gloomy abode,

With accents of honey, and feelings of hate,
They would tempt him away from his God.
As soon might yon glorious sun

At their word from its circuit be driven;

For his conscience approv'd the career he had run,His heart was already in heaven.

And DE CHLUM and DE DUBA supported his faith. And bade him be constant in trial and death.

The Saviour stood by him in pain,

Nor left him in sorrow forlorn;

And mitred blasphemers and monarchs in vain
Heaped on him their hatred and scorn.

He was meek as the innocent child,

He was firm as the storm-stricken rock,

And so humbly he prayed, and so gently he smiled,
And so sweet were the words that he spoke,
That the murderous keepers who guarded their prey,
Could weep for the man they were marshall'd to slay,

How the murderous hierarchs swarm'd!

Their hatred how fierce and how keen!

For their ill-gotten honours and empire alarmed,
Should the Gospel be known among men;

Then the prelate of G'nese would rehearse
Their devotions, to sanctify crime;

There Lodi was uttering his impotent curse,
And they chanted the holiest hymn,

And they loaded the saint with derision and shaine,
Then bound to the stake and consumed in the flame.

He is gone to the land of the blessed,

But the men who enkindled his pile--
Those priestly usurpers by monarchs caressed-
If they turn not from malice and guile,
They shall have men's perpetual hate,

God will turn a deaf ear to their prayer;
False friends of the church, proud foes of the state,
They shall die in blaspheming despair.

And the curses they breathe round his funeral pyre
Shall return on their hearts like a torrent of fire!

We have steel in our hearts and our hands,-*
We are thousands that fear not to die,-
We will faithfully keep to his latest commands,
And will follow his path to the sky!

Let them hunt us like hares on the heath

Let them fasten our limbs to the stake

Our Saviour for us did endure to the death,
And we can endure for his sake.

Let them do what they will to our children and us,

They shall know that we dare to be martyrs with Huss!

* The followers of Huss maintained the right of defensive war for religion. It is not meant to defend that doctrine here.

E

THE SUMMER BROOK.

BY MISS SARAH STICKNEY.

IN vain I watch, thou summer brook,
With weary brow and anxious look,
To see thy streams gush forth again,
And dance along the verdant plain,
Gladd'ning the flowers, the trees, the grass,
With liquid music as they pass.

In vain I watch; the sun is high,
The burnish'd leaves are bright and dry,
And, drooping o'er thy vacant bed,

Thy silent couch where weeds are spread,
Implore thee in their utmost need,

To come once more, and come with speed.

In vain, the dark and distant cave
Now hides, and holds thy silver wave,
And neither drooping leaves nor flowers,
Nor smiling earth, nor sunny hours,
Can lure thee from thy cool retreat,
To bathe the mountain's burning feet.

Are there not streams of human love,
Once pure as fountains fill'd above,

That, shrinking from their course like thee,

The wanderer pines in vain to see,
That neither grief, nor want, nor pain,

Shall ever more bring forth again?