in this universe, is but as a shadowy stroke in a fair picture, or the mournful notes in music, by which the beauty of the one is more lively and expressive, and the melody of the other more pleasing and melting."

In the Pilgrim's Progress, there is a charming passage, descriptive of the Pilgrim's entertainment in the Palace Beautiful, which was thus: "The Pilgrim they laid in a large upper chamber whose window opened towards the sun rising; the name of the chamber was Peace; where he slept till break of day, and then he awoke and sang." A great and thoughtful poet, who "loves the flower as his own child, and sees beauty in a ragged burr,” has written a poem with this sentence as its motto, which he has entitled "Daybreak," and which closes with the following stanza :

How suddenly that straight and glittering shaft
Shot 'thwart the Earth!-In crown of living fire
Up comes the Day!-As if they, conscious, quaffed
The sunny flood, hill, forest, city, spire,
Laugh in the wakening light.—Go, vain Desire!
The dusky lights have gone; go thou thy way!
And, pining Discontent, like them, expire!

Be called my chamber, PEACE' when ends the day;

And let me with the dawn, like PILGRIM, sing and pray!

TO WILLIAM.

BY W. C. BRYANT.

It was but yesterday, my child, thy little heart beat high,

And I had scorn'd the warning voice that told me, thou must die.

I saw thee move with active bound, with spirits light

and free,

And infant grace and beauty threw their every charm on thee.

Upon the dewy field I saw thy early footsteps fly, Unfettered as the native bird that cleaves the radiant sky,

And often as the sunrise gale blew back thy shining hair,

Thy cheek display'd the red, rose-tinge that health had painted there.

Then, withered as my heart had been, I could not but rejoice

To hear upon the moring wind the music of thy voice,

Now echoing in the careless laugh, now melting down to tears,

Twas like the sounds I used to hear in old and hap

pier years.

Thanks for that memory to thee, my little, lovely

boy,

'Tis all remains of former bliss that care cannot des

troy :

I listened as the mariner suspends the outbound

oar,

To taste the farewell gale that flows from off his native shore.

I loved thee and my heart was blest-but ere the day was spent,

I saw thy light and graceful limbs in drooping illness bent,

And shuddered, as I cast a look upon thy fainting head,

For all the glow of health was gone, and life was almost fled.

One glance upon thy marble brow made known that hope was vain,

I knew the swiftly wasting lamp should never light

again :

Thy cheek was pale, thy snow white lips were gently thrown apart,

And life in every passing breath seemed gushing from the heart.

And when I could not keep the tear from gathering in my eye,

Thy little hand prest gently mine in token of reply, To ask one more exchange of love thy look was up

ward cast,

And in that long and burning kiss thy happy spirit passed.

I trusted I should not have liv'd to bid farewell to

thee,

And nature in my heart declares it ought not so to

be,

I hoped that thou within the grave my weary head should lay,

And live beloved, when I was gone, for many a happy day.

With trembling hand I vainly tried thy dying eyes to close,

And how I envied in that hour thy calm and deep

repose;

For I was left alone on earth, with pain and grief opprest,

And thou wast with the sainted, where the weary are at rest.

Yes I am left alone on earth-but I will not repine, Because a spirt loved so well is earlier blest than mine;

My fate may darken as it will, I shall not much de

plore,

Since thou art where the ills of life can never reach

thee more.

RELIGIOUS DUTIES-THE POOR WOMAN.

VARIOUS are the opinions of professors of religion relative to their required duties; and it is believed if every one would conscientiously discharge his own, without interference with those of others, knowing that different situations and circumstances so modify these duties, that what would be imperious in one, would be next to impossible, and perhaps superfluous in another, there would be more happiness in the world, and more charity and Christian fellowship in our churches. I recollect when a child, I heard a preacher relate an anecdote to the point, which made a strong impression on my mind. There was a poor woman, a member of his church, whose lot was cast in the very lowest state of poverty and laborious exertion. Her husband was a kind-hearted being, but possessed no energy of character, who drilled along in the same track year after year, without even bettering his condition, and who could never imagine how a family could be very poor, so long as they neither froze, nor starved to death. They had a numerous progeny, who were always as neat as it was possible for their hard-working mother to keep them. That cheerfulness and contentment, which in the husband was the consequence of imbecility of character, in the wife was the result of a deep inward feeling of the requirements of the religion she professed, and a