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By oppression's woes and pains,
By your sons in servile chains,
We will drain our dearest veins,

But they shall be free!

Lay the proud usurper low,
Tyrants fall in every foe,
Liberty's in every blow,

Let us do or die!

BELIEVE me if all those endearing young charms,
Which I gaze on so fondly to-day,

Were to change by to-morrow and fleet in my arms,
Like fairy-gifts fading away!

Burns.

Thou would'st still be ador'd as this moment thou art,
Let thy loveliness fade as it will,

And around the dear ruin, each wish of my heart
Would entwine itself verdantly still!

It is not while beauty and youth are thine own,
And thy cheeks unprofan'd by a tear,

That the fervour and faith of a soul can be known,
To which time will but make thee more dear!
Oh! the heart that has lov'd ne'er forgets;
But as truly loves on to the close,

As the sunflower turns on her god when he sets,
The same look which she turn'd when he rose.

THE MEETING OF THE WATERS.

THERE is not in the wide world a valley so sweet,
As that vale in whose bosom the bright waters meet;
Oh! the last rays of feeling and life must depart,
Ere the bloom of that valley shall fade from my heart.
Yet it was not that Nature had shed o'er the scene,
Her purest of crystal and brightest of green;
'Twas not the soft magic of streamlet or hill ;
Oh! no-it was something more exquisite still.

'Twas that friends, the belov'd of my bosom were near,
Who made every dear scene of enchantment more dear,
And who felt how the best charms of nature improve,
When we see them reflected from looks that we love.

D

Sweet Vale of Avoca! how calm could I rest

In thy bosom of shade, with the friends I love best,
Where the storms which we feel in this cold world
should cease,

And our hearts, like thy waters, be mingled in peace!

HABITS OF BEES.

ONE circumstance respecting bees is worthy of remark, namely, that a hive brought down from the hills to the low country or coast-side, is always more industrious and thrives better for a year or two, than those that have been reared there. Can this be owing to an acquired habit of greater exertion in mountain bees, from the necessity they are under of working harder to provide a store for an expected longer winter in the hills than in the plains below ?-Robertson.

THE WORKS OF CREATION.

I PRAISED the earth in beauty seen,
With garlands gay of various green;
I praised the sea, whose ample field,
Shone glorious as a silver shield:
And earth and ocean seem'd to say,
"Our beauties are but for a day!"
I praised the sun, whose chariot roll'd
On wheels of amber and of gold;
I praised the moon, whose softer eye
Gleam'd sweetly through the summer sky:
And moon and sun in answer said,
"Our days of light are numbered."

O God! O Good beyond compare!
If thus Thy meaner works are fair,
If thus Thy beauties gild the span
Of ruin'd earth and sinful man,
How glorious must the mansion be,
Where Thy redeem'd shall dwell with Thee!

OH! for a closer walk with God,

A calm and heavenly frame;

A light to shine upon the road
That leads me to the Lamb!

Heber.

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COME my soul, thy suit prepare,
Jesus loves to answer prayer;
He himself has bid thee pray,
Therefore will not say thee nay.

Thou art coming to a King,
Large petitions with thee bring;
For His grace and pow'r are such,
None can ever ask too much.

With my burden I begin,
Lord remove this load of sin!
Let Thy blood for sinners spilt,
Set my conscience free from guilt.

Lord! I come to Thee for rest,
Take possession of my breast;

There Thy blood-bought right maintain,
And without a rival reign.

Cowper.

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"I deliver'd thee when bound,

And when bleeding, heal'd thy wound;
Sought thee wandering, set thee right,
Turn'd thy darkness into light.

"Can a woman's tender care

Cease towards the child she bare?
Yes, she may forgetful be,

Yet will I remember thee.

"Mine is an unchanging love,
Higher than the heights above;
Deeper than the depths beneath,
Free, and faithful, strong as death.

"Thou shalt see my glory soon,
When the work of grace is done;
Partner of my throne shalt be,
Say, poor sinner, lov'st thou me ?"
Lord, it is my chief complaint,
That my love is cold and faint;
Yet I love Thee and adore,
O for grace to love Thee more!

Newton.

Cowper.

How sweet the name of Jesus sounds

In a believer's ear!

It soothes his sorrows, heals his wounds,
And drives away his fear.

It makes the wounded spirit whole,
And calms the troubled breast;
'Tis manna to the hungry soul,
And to the weary rest.

Dear Name! the rock on which I build,
My shield and hiding-place;
My never-failing treas'ry fill'd
With boundless stores of grace.

Jesus! my shepherd, husband, friend,
My, prophet, priest, and king;
My Lord, my life, my way, my end,
Accept the praise I bring.

Weak is the effort of my heart,
And cold my warmest thought;
But when I see Thee as Thou art,
I'll praise Thee as I ought.

Till then I would Thy love proclaim
With every parting breath;

And may the music of Thy name
Refresh my soul in death.

Newton.

ONE there is above all others,
Well deserves the name of friend!
His is love beyond a brother's,
Costly, free, and knows no end:
They who once His kindness prove,
Find it everlasting love!

Which of all our friends to save us,

Could or would have shed his blood?

But our Jesus died to have us
Reconciled in Him to God:
This was boundless love indeed!
Jesus is a friend in need.

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