The Sandal Tree.

When on the fragrant sandal tree
The woodman's axe descends,
And she who bloomed so beauteously

Beneath the keen stroke bends--
E'en on the edge that wrought her death,
Dying she breathes her sweetest breath
As if to token in her fall,

Peace to her foes, and love to all.

How hardly man this lesson learns
To smile, and bless the hand that spurns,
To see the blow, to feel the pain,
But only render love again !

This spirit not to earth is given;
One had it-but He came from heaven;
Reviled, rejected, and betrayed,
No curse He breathed, no plaint He made,
But when in death's deep pangs He sighed,
Prayed for his murderers, and died.

Gone to the Grave.

Thou art gone to the grave-but we will not deplore thee,

Tho' sorrows and darkness encompass the tomb, The Saviour has passed thro' its portals before thee, And the lamp of his love is thy guide thro' the

gloom.

Thou art gone to the grave-we no longer behold

thee,

Nor tread the rough paths of the world by thy side; But the wide arms of mercy are spread to enfold

thee,

And sinners may hope, since the sinless has died.

Thou art gone to the grave-and its mansion for

saking,

Perhaps thy tried spirit in doubt lingered long; But the sunshine of heaven beamed bright on thy

waking,

And the song which thou heard'st was the seraphims song!

Thou art gone to the grave-but 'twere wrong to deplore thee,

When God was thy guardian, thy ransom, thy guide; He gave thee, and took thee, and soon will restore thee,

Where death hath no sting, since the Saviour hath died.

The Tand which no Mortal may know.

Though earth has full many a beautiful spot,
As a poet or painter may show,
Yet more lovely and beautiful, holy and bright
To the hopes of the heart, and the spirit's glad sight,
Is the land that no mortal may know.

There the crystaline stream bursting forth from the
Throne,

Flows on, and for ever will flow; Its waves, as they roll, are with melody rife, And its waters are sparkling with beauty and life, In the land which no mortal may know.

And there on its margin, with leaves ever green,
With its fruits healing sickness and woe.

The fair Tree of Life, in its glory and pride,
Is fed by that deep, inexhaustible tide

Of the land which no mortal may know.

There, too, are the lost! whom we lov'd on this earth,
With whose mem'ries our bosoms yet glow;

Their reliques we gave to the place of the dead,
But their glorified spirits before us have fled

To the land which no mortal may know.

There the pale orb of night, and the fountain of day,
Nor beauty nor splendour bestow;
But the presence of Him, the unchanging I Am,
And the holy, the pure, the immaculate Lamb!

Light the land which no mortal may know.

Oh! who but must pine in this dark vale of tears,
From its clouds and its shadows to go,

To walk in the light of the glory above,
And to share in the peace, and the joy, and the love,
Of the land which no mortal may know.

Presumption reproved.

MORTAL.

When nation meets nation in hostile array,

Thou, Death, grim destroyer! art first in the fray.
Thou dealest alike with the brave and the craven,
As thou spreadest a feast for the wolf and the raven.
I saw the young hero how nobly he bore him,
As vanquished and dying his foes fell before him,
Oh, such deeds might have bribed thee to let him
live on

In the light of his laurels so gallantly won.

DEATH.

His blood be upon him, he sought out the strife, Nor thought honour purchased too dearly with life; He hath gotten him fame in a cause foul or fair, And hath sped to his audit to answer it there.

And what are the honour's the conqueror wears, There is blood on his laurels, and curses, and tears. Did I spare such destroyers, my work were soon done, And I then might complain, as did Macedon's son.

MORTAL.

There was one, who was formed of such beauty and grace,

That she seemed not a part of so fallen a race :
Thou breathedst upon her! and blighted she lay-
Cut down in the morning and pride of her day,
Could age not supply thee with victim's enow ?
That thou must pluck roses to twine round thy brow.
Could beauty plead with thee, as she pleadeth with

man.

Thus, thou hadst not shortened her life's little span.

DEATH.

Nay-the deed thou arraignest in mercy was done,
For I have compassion, where mortals have none;
I took the young beauty from life's troubled stage,
Whom a cold-hearted parent would wed to old age-
She called and I heard her and hastened to save.
There was woe in that bridal! there was peace in the
grave.

"With a dotard's fond glee"- came the bridegroom abhorred,

But the worm was her sister, and I was her lord !

MORTAL.

Thou laughest the grief of the father to scorn,
As thy withering touch lays in earth his firstborn,
All the world held beside he had freely foregone,
Fame, honour, and wealth, hadst thou spared him his

For, oh, he looked proudly for solace to him, When his footstep should fail, and his eye should grow dim;

Now silent he sits in his desolate home,

With nought left to cheer, when those dark days shall

come.

DEATH.

He was ta'en, ere his spirit by sorrow was wrung,

Ere hope had beguiled it, or treachery stung,
Ere the germ of corruption he carried within

Had reared in his bosom " the upas of sin "

And thou! misjudging man-who would chain his young feet

To the rough paths of life-hast thou found them so

sweet?

Look back on thy journey, its joys, and its pain,
And say, woul'dst thou travel the bleak waste again.
Go, querulous man-bow thine head in the dust-
And know the decrees of thy Maker are just-
I was born of the wrath, thy transgression drew down
And thou reap'st, but the fruit thy rebellion hath sown
Yet an ark is provided to which thou may'st flee,
In the Saviour-who triumphed o'er Satan, and me-
Then wake, dreamer! wake, ere thy passing bell toll,
From that perilous slumber-the sleep of the soul !

The Last Christian.

Ages had passed away-the sun
His glad millenial race had run-
Sin marred the earth again.
Satan, in chains no longer bound,
Was walking his accustomed round
Abroad his own domain.