CHRISTMAS.
IT is in the winter of the year,
When summer joys are faded,
When all around us looks bleak and drear,
By time's dark pencil shaded :
That Christmas comes-to chase away
Our looks of gloom and sadness,
To light our path with its sunny ray,
And fill our hearts with gladness.
It was in the winter of the world
When all in gloom lay shrouded,
For the mists of ignorance and sin,
Man's once pure soul had clouded;
That Jesus came-from realms of light,
With love and glory beaming,
Dispelling the shades of moral night,
And man from woe redeeming.
"Glory to God, and peace on earth,"
Rang through the choirs of heaven;
Oh! then as we celebrate His birth,
Let our response be given;
Let us the thrilling anthem sing,
With warm and deep emotion,
And to him the fragrant offering bring,
Of the grateful heart's devotion!
THE sea of fortune doth not ever flow,
She draws her favors to the lowest ebb;
Her tides have equal times to come and go,
Her loom doth weave the fine and coarsest web:
No joy so great, but runneth to an end;
No hap so hard, but may in fine amend.
Not always fall of leaf, nor ever spring,
No endless night, nor yet eternal day :
The saddest birds a season find to sing,
The roughest storm a calm may soon allay.
Thus with succeeding turns God tempereth all,
That man may hope to rise, yet fear to fall.
A chance may win what by mischance was lost,
That net that holds no great, takes little fish;
In some things all, in all things none are crossed;
Few all they need, but none have all they wish;
Unmingled joys here to no man befal :
Who least, hath some, who most, hath never all.
[MY DEAR SIR,-If you deem the following worthy of insertion in your charming and useful publication, you will oblige me by letting it appear in your next number.
Your's very respectfully,
O GOD! my soul upon Thy bosom resteth,
What time distracting care would kidnap me:
Ne'er grim-eyed gloominess my peace molesteth-
For Thou hast clad me in Faith's panoply.
For trial fierce, a regiment of sorrows
If Thou my garrison bid'st desolate;
Thy word a fort is, whence my 'sieg'd soul borrows
Consolance, meekly Thy good time to wait;
Or as the sunshine, that on dark cloud shineth,
Liketh not pierce it without Thine high will;
Or as th' undoubting shadow that reclineth
Low at the foot of its paternal hill—
So, LORD, whate'er Thy wisdom may have hidden,
My curious eye seeks not to penetrate :
My Father! (that I call Thee, Thou hast bidden;)
Thy promises are earnests of my fate.
We insert this introductory note that our readers may know as much respecting the subsequent verses, as we do ourselves. There is a quaint but substantial simplicity about them, reminding us of the sacred poets of the seventeenth century, though we are by no means sure that they are not original. In either case, they belong to a good school, and as such, deserve a place in our pages.-Ed.
Yes, Father, me, while seeking unto other,
Thy call of love to heav'nly peace entic'd:-~
Now, am I, thro' Thy Son, my elder Brother,
"An heir of GOD, joint-heir with Jesus Christ!"
"FAR, far away, from the land of our birth,
Brightest and dearest of any on earth;
"Homeless and orphan'd, in terror and danger,
"Hear our petition, kind gentlefolks all,
"Hear us when on your compassion we call,
"And, though your bounty be never so small,
"Think on our sorrows, and pity the stranger.
"Fresh breathes the air from the ocean below,
"Bright shine the clouds that are sailing above;
"All things around us, wherever we go,
"Seem to speak to us of mercies and love—
"Yet is our way strewn with trouble and danger,
"Think of our woes, then, and pity the stranger."
Far, far away, from the home we would gain,
Subject to trial, bereavement, and pain;
Are we not all like the travel-worn ranger?
Do we not need a sure solace from woe,
Friendless till He who has all to bestow,
Lights up this waste of our journey below,
Smiles on our sorrow, and pities the stranger?
Then, bright with beauty are all things below-
Bright are the heavens stretched o'er us above;
Nature around us, wherever we go,
Seems to speak to us of mercies and love-
Mercies, that lighten our trouble and danger-
Love, that has pitied and ransomed the stranger.
H. Teape and Son, Printers, Tower Hill.
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