To know, when God the nations calls
Before his throne to stand,
Our spirits, too, must there appear
Amid that countless band.
Thrice blessed they who watch and pray
In faith that hour to see;
Lord! since for ever we must live,

Oh let us live with Thee !

THE BEST MONARCHY.

'Let us love one another, for love is of God.'

WHENE'ER an angry word is said, or unkind look is given,

I think of my beloved dead, and of their rest in heaven;

No cloud is ever on their brow, or passion taints their lips,

The peace that wraps their spirits now, can suffer no eclipse.

On earth they ever walked in love, amid a finer air, Robed in untiring gentleness, as in a mantle rare ; And if some shallow worldling soul e'er offered slight or wrong,

They did but shake their glittering folds, and passed in light along.

How often has a silent look, when accents harsh were spoken,

Stayed, at its source, the flood that soon its bounds had madly broken;

How oft the tender smile that told the offence was all forgiven,

Hath pled with tongue most eloquent the cause of truth and heaven !

We boast the might of ancestry, of knowledge, wit, and gold,

But there's a nobler sovereignty, of kingly lineage old; And passions' legions, 'neath that sway, fall back abashed and dumb,

The power supreme of every age, past, present, and to

come.

O law of Love! the world within thou fill'st with holy light,

Even as the morn the world without makes beautiful and bright!

Of visible things, the sun is still God's grandest work confest,

And of His secret gifts to man, thou art the purest— best!

Ye, then, who e'er by hearth or board, with wrathful tones would mar

The dear domestic peace, should guard our households like a star

Weigh well the motto of my verse-a pearl with meaning fraught-

And let it sink, like holy dew, into your inmost thought;

If wise as serpents ye would prove, yet harmless as the dove,

Give place to all sweet charities, and rule- O rule by love!

JAMES G. SMALL.

AMES G. SMALL is a native of Edinburgh, in which city his father, George Small, held office in the magistracy, and established the House of Refuge and the Lock Hospital. Having attended the University of Edinburgh, he there attained distinction as a successful competitor for various prize poems. In 1843, he published a volume of poems, entitled The Highlands, &c., and this work has since passed through several editions. Two small poetical works from his pen have likewise been well received. In 1847, Mr Small was ordained pastor of the Free Church at Bervie, Kincardineshire.

THE WELCOME TO GLORY.

A HEAVENLY Voice is falling
Upon my silent heart,
I hear it softly calling

My spirit to depart.

With tottering footsteps wending
Along a rugged path,
I feel I am descending

Into the vale of death.

Yet its dark precincts treading-
Feeling its gloom so near-

I enter it undreading;

For, wherefore should I fear?

R

That Shepherd is beside me,
To guard me and to cheer,
Who wont through life to guide me,
Has brought me safely here.

Then let me still, as slowly
I tread this region dim,
Breathe through my heart a holy,
A deep and silent hymn.

Soon, soon shall it be given
This feeble voice of mine,
With all the choir of heaven,
To raise a song divine.

In one full chorus pouring
The everlasting strain!
With grateful joy adoring

The Lamb that once was slain.

And even while yet I'm numbered
With those who dwell below,
With mortal flesh encumbered,
Amid a world of woe,

May not this heart be sweetly
Attuned by God's own hand,
To join, and not unmeetly,
With that rejoicing band-

Its deep tones humbly blending
With that celestial song,
Whose strains of joy, unending,
In heaven it shall prolong.

HYMN FOR THE OPENING YEAR.

'MIDST wintry gloom, and winds that wail,
As through the woods they sweep,
The new-born year, all sad and pale,
Awakes to sigh and weep.

Even so the life of faith begins-
Grief clouds the soul at first,
When all its once unheeded sins
On startled Conscience burst.

But as the balmy airs of spring
The brooding clouds dispel,

Or from their breasts sweet nurture bring
The clustering buds to swell;
So gales of heavenly comfort sweep
Contrition's gloom away;

And they who sow in tears, shall reap
In joys that last for aye.

Lord, if the year that now has fled
With all its golden hours,

Has left my soul so dark and dead
As winter's leafless bowers;
Oh, make me now myself to know,
Unscale my blinded eye,
And bid those blessed tears to flow,
Which thine own hand will dry!

Let all old things be passed away
With that old fruitless year,
And make a new and glorious day
My new-born soul to cheer.
Let all things now be new to me,
And teach me that new song,
Which now thy children sing to Thee,
And shall in heaven prolong.