ON THE MEMORY OF MRS CATHARINE

THOMSON.

WHEN faith and love, which parted from thee never,

Had ripen'd thy just soul to dwell with God, Meekly thou didst resign this earthly load

Of death, called life; which us from life doth

sever.

Thy works, and alms, and all thy good endeavour,
Staid not behind, nor in the grave were trod ;
But, as faith pointed with her golden rod,
Follow'd thee up to joy and bliss for ever.
Love led them on, and Faith, who knew them best,
Thy hand-maids, clad them o'er with purple

beams

And azure wings, that up they flew so drest, And spake the truth of thee on glorious themes Before the Judge; who thenceforth bid thee rest,

And drink thy fill of pure immortal streams.

MILTON'S SONNET ON HIS OWN
BLINDNESS.

WHEN I consider how my light is spent
Ere half my days, in this dark world and wide,
And that one talent which is death to hide,
Lodged with me useless, though my soul more
bent

To serve therewith my Maker, and present
My true account, lest he, returning, chide;
Doth God exact day-labour, light denied?'
fondly ask: but Patience, to prevent

That murmur, soon replies, "God doth not need Either man's work, or his own gifts; who best Bear his mild yoke, they serve him best: his

state

Is kingly; thousands at his bidding speed,
And post o'er land and ocean without rest;
They also serve who only stand and wait.'

SAMSON BEWAILING HIS BLINDNESS. "O LOSS of sight, of thee I most complain! Blind among enemies, O worse than chains, Dungeon, or beggary, or decrepit age!

Light, the prime work of God, to me is extinct, And all her various objects of delight

Annull'd, which might in part my grief have eased,
Inferior to the vilest now become

Of man or worm; the vilest here excel me:
They creep, yet see; I, dark in light, exposed
To daily fraud, contempt, abuse, and wrong,
Within doors, or without, still as a fool,
In power of others, never in my own ;

Scarce half I seem to live, dead more than half.
O dark, dark, dark, amid the blaze of noon,
Irrecoverably dark, total eclipse

Without all hope of day!

O first-created beam, and thou great Word,
Let there be light, and light was over all ;'
Why am I thus bereaved thy prime decree ?
The sun to me is dark

And silent as the moon,

When she deserts the night,

Hid in her vacant interlunar cave."

HENRY VAUGHAN.

BORN 1614-DIED 1695.

HENRY VAUGHAN was born in Brecknockshire about the year 1614. He was intended for the bar, but, in consequence of the civil wars, returned to his native place, and became an eminent physician. He died in 1695.

EARLY RISING AND PRAYER.

WHEN first thy eyes unveil, give thy soul leave
To do the like; our bodies but forerun

The spirit's duty: true hearts spread and heave
Unto their God as flowers do to the sun;

Give him thy first thoughts then, so shalt thou keep
Him company all day, and in him sleep.

Yet never sleep the sun up; prayer should
Dawn with the day: there are set awful hours
'Twixt heaven and us; the manna was not good
After sun-rising; far day sullies flowers:
Rise to prevent the sun; sleep doth sins glut,
And heaven's gate opens when the world's is shut.

Walk with thy fellow-creatures: note the hush
And whisperings amongst them. Not a spring
Or leaf but hath his morning hymn; each bush
And oak doth know I AM.-Canst thou not sing?
O leave thy cares and follies! go this way,
And thou art sure to prosper all the day.

Serve God before the world; let him not go
Until thou hast a blessing; then resign

The whole unto him, and remember who
Prevail'd by wrestling ere the sun did shine:
Pour oil upon the stones, weep for thy sin,
Then journey on, and have an eye to heav'n.

Mornings are mysteries: the first, world's youth, Man's resurrection, and the future's bud,

Shroud in their births; the crown of life, light, truth,

Is styl'd their star; the stone and hidden food: Three blessings wait upon them, one of which Should move-they make us holy, happy, rich.

When the world's up, and every swarm abroad,
Keep well thy temper, mix not with each clay;
Despatch necessities; life hath a load

Which must be carried on, and safely may :
Yet keep those cares without thee; let the heart
Be God's alone, and choose the better part.

THE RAINBOW.

STILL young and fine, but what is still in view
We slight as old and soil'd, though fresh and new.
How bright wert thou when Shem's admiring eye
Thy burnish'd flaming arch did first descry;
When Zerah, Nahor, Haran, Abram, Lot,
The youthful world's gray fathers, in one knot
Did with intentive looks watch every hour

For thy new light, and trembled at each shower!
When thou dost shine, darkness looks white and

fair;

Forms turn to music, clouds to smiles and air;

Rain gently spends his honey-drops, and pours
Balm on the cleft earth, milk on grass and flowers.
Bright pledge of peace and sunshine, the sure tye
Of thy Lord's hand, the object (a) of his eye!
When I behold thee, though my light be dim,
Distant and low, I can in thine see him,
Who looks upon thee from his glorious throne,
And minds the covenant betwixt all and One.

TIMBER.

SURE thou didst flourish once, and many springs, Many bright mornings, much dew, many showers, Past o'er thy head; many light hearts and wings, Which now are dead, lodg'd in thy living towers.

And still a new succession sings and flies,
Fresh groves grow up, and their green branches
shoot

Towards the old and still-enduring skies,
While the low violet thrives at their root.

THE WREATH.

TO THE REDEEMER.

SINCE I in storms most us'd to be,
And seldom yielded flowers,
How shall I get a wreath for thee
From those rude barren hours?

(a) Genesis, ch. ix. ver. 1.