"ALL things that are of the earth turn to the earth again.

The life of one that laboureth and is contented, shall be made sweet."

ECCLESIASTICUS, Book iv.

DAY of Life! thine hours are fast advancing,
Faster, one by one!

Brilliant hopes, like diamonds adorning
Dewy meadows, disappear with morning,
'Neath the noon-day sun.

Now the mid-day heat and passion burneth,
May my arm be strong,

To plough in life's broad field beside my neighbour,
Singing with cheerful heart that lightens labour,
The old, untiring song!

Cast me gently on the shore at evening,
With the one I love!

May a sunset golden-calm surround us,
Sliding into darkness, where it found us,
Till the Dawn above!

HAMILTON AÏDÉ.

THE tree of Faith its bare, dry boughs must shed
That nearer heaven the living ones may climb;
The false must fail, though from our shores of time
The old lament be heard,—“ Great Pan is dead!”
That wail is Error's, from his high place hurled;
This sharp recoil is Evil undertrod;

Our time's unrest, an angel sent of God
Troubling with life the waters of the world.
Even as they list the winds of the Spirit blow
To turn or break our century-rusted vanes;
Sands shift and waste; the rock alone remains
Where, led of Heaven, the strong tides come and go,
And storm-clouds, rent by thunder-bolt and wind,
Leave, free of mist, the permanent stars behind.

Therefore I trust, although to outward sense
Both true and false seem shaken; I will hold
With newer light my reverence for the old,
And calmly wait the births of Providence.
No gain is lost, the clear-eyed saints look down
Untroubled on the wreck of schemes and creeds;
Love yet remains, its rosary of good deeds
Counting in task-field and o'er peopled town;
Truth has charmed life! the Inward Word survives,
And, day by day, its revelation brings;

Faith, hope, and charity, whatsoever things
Which cannot be shaken, stand. Still holy lives
Reveal the Christ of whom the letter told,

And the new gospel verifies the old.

JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER.

I BELIEVE we are now at an era which in social importance, has not had its equal in the last 1,800 years. I believe that there is no event that has ever happened in the world's history, which in a moral and social point of view-is more favourable to the enduring interests of humanity than the establishment of the principle of Free Trade, I do not mean in a pecuniary point of view merely, or as a principle applied to England alone; but we have a principle established now which is eternal in its truth and universal in its application, and which must be applied in all nations and throughout all times, and applied not simply to commerce, but to every item of the tariffs of the world; and if we are not mistaken in thinking that our principles are true, be assured that those results will follow, and at no very distant period. It is a world's revolution, and nothing else, and every meeting we have held may be looked back upon as the germ of a movement which will ultimately comprehend the whole world in its embrace. I see and feel, and always have felt, the great social and moral importance of this great question. Having known what I do of my fellow countrymen who have been engaged in this agitation-men who are the salt of this land, and who are active whenever any good is to be accomplished-I shall never despair of their moral power to conduct the good ship of the State through whatever storm may arise. We are dispersing our elements to be ready for any other good work, and it is nothing but good work that will be attempted by good Leaguers. Our body will perish, but our spirit is abroad, and will pervade all the nations of the earth because it is the spirit of truth and justice, because it is the spirit of peace and goodwill amongst men.

RICHARD COBDEN.

* Speech made at the final meeting of the Anti-Corn-Law League, July 2nd, 1846.

"COME unto me, all ye that labour, and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest."

MATTHEW Xi. 28.

O, REST a while, but only for a while;
Life's business presses, and the time is short:
Ease may the weary of reward beguile;

Let not the workman lose what he has wrought.

Rest for a while, if only for a while;

The strong birds tire, and gladly seek their nest: With quiet heart enjoy heaven's quiet smile; What strength has he who never takes his rest?

Rest for a while, though 'tis but for a while;
Home flies the bee, then soon re-quits the hive :
Rest on thy staff, walk then another mile;
Soon will the long, the final rest arrive.

O, rest a while, for rest is self-return;

Leave the loud world, and visit thine own breast, The meaning of thy labours thou wilt learn When thus at peace, with Jesus for thy guest.

THOMAS T. LYNCH.

NOTHING is left or lost-nothing of good,
Or lovely; but whatever its first springs
Has drawn from God, returns to Him again :
That only which 'twere misery to retain

Is taken from you, which to keep were loss ;
Only the scum, the refuse, and the dross
Are borne away unto the grave of things;
Meanwhile whatever gifts from Heaven descend
Thither again have flowed,

To the receptacle of all things good,

From Whom they come and unto Whom they tend, Who is the First and Last, the Author and the End.

For doubt not but that in the worlds above

There must be other offices of love,

That other tasks and ministries there are,

Since it is promised that His servants there

Shall serve Him still. Therefore be strong, be strong,
Ye that remain, nor fruitlessly revolve,
Darkling, the riddles which ye cannot solve,
But do the works that unto you belong;

Believing that for every mystery,

For all the death, the darkness, and the curse
Of this dim universe,

Needs a solution full of love must be :
And that the way whereby ye may attain
Nearest to this, is not thro' broodings vain.
And half-rebellious, questionings of God,
But by a patient seeking to fulfil
The purpose of His everlasting will,
Treading the path which lowly men have trod.
Since it is ever they who are too proud
For this, that are the foremost and most loud
To judge His hidden judgments, these are still

The most perplexed and lost at His mysterious will.

RICHARD CHENEVIX TRENCH.