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THE MISSIONARY PRAYER.
For oft I think of little children there,
J. T. T.
LINES ADDRESSED TO THE AUTHOR OF
(See pape 34.)
If the cross be thy anchor, no harm can be hurl'd
SUBJECT FOR SONG.
When I would meditate, as poets sing,
E. L. A.
ON HEARING SWEET SINGING.
The air's divine; it must be heavenward rising-
Ah, no! the mortal song
I said it was a sound to heaven ascending;
The senseless song records
Of love, some passionate words.
For it must only move
E. L. A.
" HE SAT DOWN.”—Psalm cxxxvii.
And o'er it the sun threw his parting beam,
His harp was hung on the drooping willow,
And fancy half dreamed that the plaintive billow,
But no one discovered the tear as it fell,
And it followed its course to a distant dell,
No stranger perceived in the river's wail,
As it hastened to utter its plaintive tale,
He thought of the land that his fathers trod,
And he thought of the temple of his God,
And he said, "If I e'er forget the land
Let its proudest skill forsake my hand,
And my tongue be still in death.” Belle Vue, Launceston.
E. L. COPE.