INTRODUCTION IN AN ALBUM.

A PLANT with leaves, but without flowers,
Is what this Album seems-

It lacks the springs refreshing showers,
And vivifying beams-

No bud gives promise of perfume,
Or scents the air with balmy bloom:

A sky without a star's mild light
Is what it next appears;
Oh, better far the gloom of night,
Its darkness and its tears,

If thro' the broken clouds but play
One transient beam, one passing ray.

The ripple which the waters make
When onward flows the rill,

Is better than the silent lake,

Unruffled, deep and still

And who would not even storms prefer
To seas where winds or waves ne'er stir?

And thus I bid the buds awake,

And shed around their bloom

The stars I also pray to break

From darkness and from gloom

And give their perfume and their light, Undimmed by clouds, untouched by blight.

IMPROMPTU

ON THE DEATH OF MR. AND MRS. MASSE.

BRIGHT was the prospect of their wedded life,
Undimmed by sorrow, and unvexed by strife;
Not calmer flows the pure and placid stream-
Not more untinged by grief an infant's dream-
And yet was sorrow's dark and louring cloud
Above them spread. He to the mandate bowed,
That from her love in youth his soul withdrew
To realms where faith is pure, where hope is true.
Beneath the awful pressure of that grief

To which death only can afford relief,
Not long her spirit lingered on that scene

Whence his had fled: no more her heart might lean
With that fond confidence, and silent love,

On him who yielded her regard above

All others: the paths of life together had been trod-
Together thro' death's vale to earth's dread God
In social union shall their souls

appear,

And wait that voice of love the faithful only hear!

K

THE TRAVELLER'S HYMN.

FROM those we love, oh Lord! to part Is grievous to be borne;

But thou that sooth'st the broken heart, Can teach us not to mourn.

Thou that canst dry the mourner's tear,
And raise the feeble frame,
Our downcast spirits still wilt cheer-
Each wild emotion tame.

Our clouds of sorrow, oh dispel,
And dissipate our fear-

Tho' wild waves roar and billows swell,
The Lord will still be near.

We will not fear the lightnings wrath,
The thunder's awful sound,
If thou wilt guide us on our path
Our faith will still abound.

Thou that art ruler of the sea,

Oh guide us on our way

The whirlwind and the tempest, Thee Mid all their rage obey.

Oh, hush the stormy winds to peace,
And still the billows' roar-
Th' obedient sea its rage shall cease,
The waves be rough no more.

Thou that didst mould our mortal form,
And raise us from the dust-

In sorrow's hour, or passion's storm,
Oh Lord, in thee we trust.

SONG.

WHEN friend meets friend in social mirth,
And heart with heart seems blended-
A lovely scene appears this earth,
With prospects rich and splendid;
We gaily pass

The circling glass,

Mid smiles and hearty laughter

And give the woe,

That we must know,

To the hours that shall come after.

But a deeper thrill our hearts would know,
More bright the joy above us,
If we could but think, as now I drink,
That those we love will love us.

The festive scene hath deep delight,
When pure and heart entrancing,

Beneath the friendly veil of night
Fond woman's eye is glancing;
Tho' pure and bright,
That kindly light,

Whenever in joy it brightens-
Yet purer far

Than light of star,

When love its rays enlightens.