SALE OF CUPID.

WHO'LL buy a little boy? Look, yonder is he,
Fast asleep, sly rogue, on his mother's knee;
So bold a young imp 't is n't safe to keep,

So I'll part with him now, while he's sound asleep
See his arch little nose, how sharp 't is curl'd,
His wings, too, ev'n in sleep unfurl'd;

And those tigers, which still ever ready are found
For mirth or for mischief, to tickle, or wound.

He'll try with his tears your heart to beguile,

But never you mind — he's laughing all the while;
For little he cares, so he has his own whim,
And weeping or laughing are all one to him.
His eye is as keen as the lightning's flash,
His tongue like the red bolt quick and rash;
And so savage is he, that his own dear mother
Is scarce more safe in his hands than another.

In short, to sum up this darling's praise,
He's a downright pest in all sorts of ways.
And if any one wants such an imp to employ,
He shall have a dead bargain of this little boy.
But see, the boy wakes his bright tears flow --

-

His eyes seem to ask could I sell him? oh no, Sweet child, no, no - though so naughty you be, You shall live evermore with my Lesbia and me

COME, YE DISCONSOLATE.

COME, ye disconsolate, where'er you languish,

Come, at God's altar fervently kneel;

Here bring your wounded hearts, here tell your an guish

Earth has no sorrow that Heaven.cannot heal.

Joy of the desolate, Light of the straying,

Hope, when all others die, fadeless and pure, Here speaks the Comforter, in God's name saying · "Earth has no sorrow that Heaven cannot cure."

Go, ask the infidel, what boon he brings us,
What charm for aching hearts he can reveal,
Sweet as that heavenly promise Hope sings us ——
"Earth has no sorrow that God cannot heal."

THE MEETING OF THE SHIPS.

WHEN o'er the silent seas alone,
For days and nights we've cheerless gone,
Oh they who've felt it know how sweet,
Some sunny morn a sail to meet.

Sparkling at once is ev'ry eye,

"Ship ahoy! ship ahoy!" our joyful cry; While answering back the sounds we hear "Ship ahoy! ship ahoy! what cheer? what cheer?"

Then sails are back'd, we nearer come,
Kind words are said of friends and home:
And soon, too soon, we part with pain,
To sail o'er silent seas again.

THE EXILE.

NIGHT waneth fast, the morning star
Saddens with light the glimm'ring sea,
Whose waves shall soon to realms afar
Waft me from hope, from love, and thee.
Coldly the beam from yonder sky

Looks o'er the waves that onward stray;
But colder still the stranger's eye.

To him whose home is far away.

Oh, not at hour so chill and bleak,

Let thoughts of me come o'er thy breast;
But of the lost one think and speak,
When summer suns sink calm to rest.

So, as I wander, Fancy's dream

Shall bring me o'er the sunset seas,

Thy look, in ev'ry melting beam,

Thy whisper, in each dying breeze.

AS DOWN IN THE SUNLESS RETREATS

As down in the sunless retreats of the Ocean,
Sweet flowers are springing no mortal can see,
So, deep in my soul the still prayer of devotion,
Unheard by the world, rises silent to Thee,
My God! silent, to Thee,

Pure, warm, silent, to Thee.

As still to the star of its worship, though clouded,
The needle points faithfully o'er the dim sea,
So, dark as I roam, in this wintry world shrouded,
The hope of my spirit turns tre.nbling to Thee,
My God! trembling, to Thee

True, fond, trembling, to Thee

ROSE OF THE DESERT.

ROSE of the Desert! thou, whose blushing ray
Lonely and lovely, fleets unseen away;
No hand to cull thee, none to woo thy sigh, -
In vestal silence left to live and dre,
Rose of the Desert! thus should woman be,
Shining uncourted, lone and safe, like thee.

Rose of the Garden, how unlike thy doom
Destined for others, not thyself, to bloom;
Cull'd ere thy beauty lives through half its day;
A moment cherish'd, and then cast away;

Rose of the Garden! such is woman's lot,

Worshipp'd, while blooming — when she fades, forgot

SOUND THE LOUD TIMBREL

SOUND the loud Timbrel o'er Egypt's dark sea!
Jehovah has triumph'd his people are free.

--

Sing for the pride of the Tyrant is broken,

His chariots, his horsemen, all splendid and brave How vain was their boast, for the Lord hath but spoken And chariots and horsemen are sunk in the wave Sound the loud timbrel o'er Egypt's dark sea;

Jehovah has triumph'd — his people are free.

Praise to the Conqueror, praise to the Lord!
His word was our arrow, his breath was our sword.
Who shall retnrn to tell Egypt the story

Of those she sent forth in the hour of her pride? For the Lord hath look'd out from his pillar of glory,

And all her brave thousands are dash'd in the tide Sound the loud Timbrel o'er Egypt's dark sea; Jehovah has triumph'd — his people are free'