The thorn and the thistle around me may grow-
I would not lie down e'en on roses below:

I ask not my portion, I seek not a rest,

Till I find them forever on Jesus' lov'd breast.

Afflictions may press me, they cannot destroy,
One glimpse of his love turns them all into joy:
And the bitterest tears, if he smiles but on them-
Like dew in the sunshine, grow diamond and gem.

Let trials and danger my progress oppose,
They only make Heaven more sweet at the close:
Come joy, or come sorrow, whate' er may befall,
A home with my God, will make up for it all.

With a scrip on my back, and a staff in my hand,
I march on in haste, through an enemy's land;
The road may be rough, but it cannot be long,
And I'll smooth it with hope, and cheer it with song.

A COLONIZATION SONG.

Will you be colonized on the African shores?

And your fears will sleep, and you will rouse them no more.
Will you, will you, will you, will you be colonized?
Will you, will you, will you, will you be colonized?

'Tis a land that with honey and milk doth abound,

Where the lash is not heard, and the scout ge is not found.

If you stay in this land where the white man hath rule,
You will starve by his hand in both body and soul.

For a nuisance you are, in this land of your birth,
Held down by his hand, and crushed to the earth.

My religion is pure, and it came from above,
But I cannot consent the black negro to love.

It is true, there are judgments that hang o'er the land, But they all turn aside when you follow the plan.

'Tis a land where Sun-beams will addle your brains, And savage banditti rove over the plains.

You're ignorant I know, in this land of your birth,
And religion though pure, cannot remove the curse.

But only consent, though extorted by force,
What a blessing you'll prove, on the African coast.

Tis a land where sand-banks made hot from the skies,
Like clouds arise round you to dazzle your eyes.

Will you, will you, will you, will you be colonized?
Will you, will you, will you, will you be colonized?

THE FREE SLAVE.

Go, go! thou that enslavest me; now, now thy power is o'er, Long, long have I obeyed thee: I'm not a slave any more! No, no,-oh! no, I'm a free man ever more!

Thou, thou, broughtest me over deep, deep sorrow and pain,
But I have left thee forever, nor will I serve thee again.
No, no,-oh! no, no I'll not serve thee again.

Tyrant! thou hast bereft me, home, friends, pleasures so sweet Now, now forever I've left thee, thou and I never shall meet. No, no,-oh! no thou and I never shall meet!

Joys, joys, bright as the morning; now, now on me will pour,
Hope, hope sweetly is dawning, I'm not a slave any more!
No, no,-oh! no, I'm not a slave any more.

Hark, ten thousand harps and voics, sound the note of praise above,

Jesus reigns, and heaven rejoices, Jesus reigns the God of love See he sits on yonder throne, Jesus rules the world above.

Hallelujah! Hallelujah! Hallelujah!—Amen.

Jesus hail! whose glory brightens all above and gives it worth; Lord of life, thy smile enlightens, cheers and charms thy Saints on earth;

When we think of love like thine, Lord we own it, love divine Hallelujah! etc.

King of glory reign forever, thine an everlasting crown, Nothing from thy love can sever, those whom thou hast made

thine own;

Happy objects of thy grace, destined to behold thy face;

Hallelujah! etc.

Saviour hasten thine appearing, bring, oh! bring the glorious day,

When the awful summons hearing, heaven and earth shall pass

away,

Then with golden harps we'll sing, glory, glory, to our king!

Hallelujah! etc.

A CRADLE HYMN

Hush my dear lie still and slumber,
Holy Angels guard thy bed,
Heavenly blessings without number,
Gently falling on thy head.

Sleep my babe thy food and raiment,
House and home thy friends provide,
And without thy care or payment,
All thy wants shall be supplied.

How much better thou 'rt attended, Than the Son of God could be, When from Heaven he descended, And became a child like thee.

Soft and easy is thy cradle,

Coarse and hard thy Saviour lay, When his birth-place was a stable, And his softest bed was hay.

Blessed babe what glorious features, Spotless, fair, divinely bright; Must he dwell with brutal creatures, How could Angels bear the sight?

Was there nothing but a manger,
Cursed sinners could afford?
To receive the heavenly stranger,

Could they thus affront their Lord?

Soft, my child, I did not chide thee,
Though my song might sound too hard,
Tis thy mother sits beside thee,

And her arms shall be thy guard.

While I read the shameful story,
How the Jews abused their king,
How they served the Lord of glory,
Makes me angry while I sing.

See the kinder Shepherds round him,
Telling wonders from the sky,

There they sought him, there they found him,
With his Virgin mother by.

See the lovely babe a dressing,
Lovely infant how he smiled,

When he wept, the mother's blessing,
Soothed and hushed the holy child.

Lo! he slumbers in a manger,
Where the horned oxen fed,
Peace my darling there's no danger,
Here's no oxen near thy bed.

'Twas to save thee, child from dying,
Save my dear from burning pains,
Bitter groans and endless cryings,
That thy blessed Redeemer came.

Mayest thou live to know and fear him,
Trust and love him all thy days,

Then go dwell forever near him,
See his face and sing his praise.

I could give thee a thousand kisses,
Hoping what I most desire:
Not a mother's fondest wishes,

Can to greater joys aspire.

DR. WATTS.