Cheap forms, and common hues, 'tis true,
Thro' the bright shower-drop meet his view,
The coloring may be of this earth;
The lustre comes of heavenly birth.

Even so who loves the Lord aright,
No soul of man can worthless find;
All will be precious in his sight,

Since Christ on all hath shin'd;
But chiefly Christian souls: for they,
Though worn and soiled with sinful clay,
Are yet, to eyes that see them true,
All glistening with baptismal dew.

No distance breaks the tie of blood,
Brothers are brothers evermore;
Nor wrong nor wrath of deadliest mood,
That magic may o'erpower;

Oft, ere the common source be known,
The kindred drops will claim their own,
And throbbing pulses silently

Move heart towards heart by sympathy.

So is it with true Christian hearts;
Their mutual share in Jesus' blood
An everlasting bond imparts

Of holiest brotherhood:

Oh! might we all our lineage prove,
Give and forgive, do good and love,
By soft endearments in kind strife,
Lightening the load of daily life!

Then draw we nearer, day by day,
Eac 1 to his brethren, all to God;*

Let the world take us as she may,

We must not change our road, Not wondering, though in grief, to find, The martyr's foe still keep her mind; But fixed to hold Love's banner fast, And by submission win at last.

COMMANDMENT OF CHARITY.

ANONYMOUS.

In the hour of keenest sorrow-
In the hour of deepest woe-
Wait not for the coming morrow,
To the sad and suffering go.
Make it thy sincerest pleasure
To administer relief;
Freely opening thy treasure

To assuage a brother's grief..

Go and seek the orphan sighing—
Seek the widow in her tears;
As on mercy's pinions flying,

Go-dispel their darkest fears;
Seek the stranger, sad and weary,
Pass not on the other side,
Though the task be sad and dreary,
Heeding not the scorn of pride.

Go, with manners unassuming,
In a meek and quiet way-
O'er the father ne'er presuming,

Though thy brother sadly stray; 'Tis a Saviour's kind compassion

'Tis his righteousness alone,

All unmerited salvation

That a round thy path has shown.

THE POWER AND BLESSEDNESS OF CHARITABLE SYMPATHY.

TUPPER.

Man is of three natures, claiming all for charity!

It is not enough to give him meats, withholding other comfort;

For the mind starveth, and the soul is scorned, and so the human animal

Eateth its unsatisfying pittance, a thankless, heartless

pauper :

Yet would he bless thee and be grateful, didst thou feed

his spirit,

And teach him that thine alms-givings are charities, are

loves.

I saw a beggar in the street, and another beggar pitied

him;

Sympathy sank into his soul, and the pitied one felt hap

pier :

Anon passed by a cavalcade, children of wealth and gaity; They laughed, and looked upon the beggar, and the gal

lants flung him gold;

He, poor spirit. humbled wretch, gathered up their givings with a curse,

And went to share it with his brother, the beggar, who

had pitied him.

APOSTROPHE TO CHARITY.

POLLOK.

Breathe all thy minstrelsy, immortal harp!
Breathe numbers warm with love! while I rehearse,
Delightful theme! resembling most the songs
Which day and night are sung before the Lamb!

Thy praise, O Charity! thy labors most
Divine; thy sympathy with sighs, and tears,
And groans; thy great, thy God-like wish, to heal
All misery, all fortune's wounds, and make
The soul of every living thing rejoice.
O thou wast needed much in days of time!
No virtue, half so much; none half so fair:
To all the rest, however fine, thou gainest
A finishing and polish without which
No man entered heaven.

HE DOETH ALL THINGS WELL.
I remember how I loved her, when a little guiltless child,
I saw her in the cradle, as she looked on me and smil'd,
My cup of happiness was full, my joy words cannot tell,
And I blessed the glorious Giver "who doeth all things

well."

Months pass'd, that bud of promise was unfolding every hour,

I thought that earth had never smil'd upon a fairer flower,
So beautiful it well might be the bowers where angels dwell
And waft the fragrance to His throne, "who doeth all
things well."

Years fled that little sister then, was dear as life to me,
And woke in my unconscious heart, a wild idolatry;
I worshipped at an earthly shrine, lur'd by some magic

spell,

Forgetful of the praise of Him "who doeth all things well."

The star went out in beauty, yet it shineth sweetly now, In the bright and dazzling coronet that decks the Saviour's brow,

She bow'd to the destroyer's hand, whose shafts none may repel,

But we know, for God has told us, "He doeth all things well."

I remember well my sorrow as I stood beside her bed, My deep and heartfelt anguish when they told me she was dead!

And oh! that cup of bitterness-let not my heart rebel; God gave, He took, He will restore "He doeth all things well."

CHRISTIANITY, IS WHAT?

Is what, dost thou ask? "Tis the sunbeam that dries
The night-gathered tear from the violet's eyes-
That warms the cold earth round the valueless thorn,
And flings through the darkness a beautiful morn.

What is it? The perfume which steals from sweet flowers,
When the sick heart is pining for summer's lov'd showers,
The raindrop that falls on the desolate leaf;
The oil that composes the billows of grief.

What is it? The young breeze, whose pinions, unfurled;
Stay not till their choice gifts have circled the world;
A harp-tone at midnight, when nature is still,
Or the voice of a dove by a pine shaded rill.

What is it? A star on the wild-heaving sea,
Prostrating the proud on a prayer bended knee:
A fire that refineth the metal within ;
The canker which gnaws at the vitals of sin.