THE SUNDAY SCHOOL.

GROUP after group are gathering, such as prest
Once to their Saviour's arms, and gently laid
Their cherub heads upon his shielding breast,

Though sterner souls the fond approach forbade ;
Group after group glide on with noiseless tread,
And round JEHOVAH'S sacred altar meet,
Where holy thoughts in infant hearts are bred,
And holy words their ruby lips repeat,

Oft with a chastened glance, in modulation sweet.

Yet some there are, upon whose childish brows
Wan poverty hath done the work of care;
Look up, ye sad ones!-'tis your Father's house,
Beneath whose consecrated dome you are;
More gorgeous robes you see, and trappings rare,
And watch the gaudier forms that gaily rove,
And deem, perchance, mistaken as you are,

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The coat of many colours" proves His love, Whose sign is in the heart, and whose reward above.

And ye, blest labourers in this humble sphere,

To deeds of saint-like charity inclined,

Who, from your cells of meditation dear,

Go forth to guide the weak, untutored mind--
Yet ask no payment, save one smile refined
Of grateful love, one tear of contrite pain.
Meekly ye forfeit to your mission kind

The rest of earthly sabbaths. Be your gain
A sabbath without end, mid yon celestial plain.

A PSALM OF LIFE.

What the heart of the young man said to the Psalmist.

TELL me not, in mournful numbers,

Life is but an empty dream! For the soul is dead that slumbers,

And things are not what they seem.

Life is real! Life is earnest !

And the grave is not its goal; "Dust thou art, to dust returnest," Was not spoken of the soul.

Not enjoyment, and not sorrow,
Is our destined end or way;
But to act, that each to-morrow
Find us farther than to-day.

Art is long, and Time is fleeting,

And our hearts, though stout and brave, Still, like muffled drums, are beating Funeral marches to the grave.

In the world's broad field of battle,
In the bivouac of Life,
Be not like dumb, driven cattle!
Be a hero in the strife!

Trust no Future, howe'er pleasant!
Let the dead Past bury its dead!
Act-act in the living Present!

Heart within, and GoD o'erhead!

THE TRUE PLAN OF LIFE.

Lives of great men all remind us
We can make our lives sublime,
And, departing, leave behind us.
Footprints on the sands of time;

Footprints, that perhaps another,
Sailing o'er life's solemn main,
A forlorn and shipwrecked brother,
Seeing, shall take heart again.

Let us, then, be up and doing,
With a heart for any fate;

Still achieving, still pursuing,

Learn to labour and to wait.

THE TRUE PLAN OF LIFE.

IF thou dost truly seek to live
With all the joys that life can give;
If thy young feet would gladly press
The ways of peace and happiness;

Go thou, with fresh and fervent love,
To Him who dwells in light above,
Who sees ten thousand suns obey,
Yet listens when the lowly pray.

Cling thou to JESUS faithfully,
As vines embrace their guardian tree;
Nor shame thy pure and lofty creed;
Be His in thought, and word, and deed;

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And thou shalt breathe in this low world,
An eagle chained, with wings unfurled,
Prepared, when once thy bonds are riven,
To soar away, and flee to Heaven.

ADVICE OF POLONIUS TO HIS SON GOING TO TRAVEL.

GIVE thy thoughts no tongue,

Nor any unproportioned thought his act.
Be thou familiar, but by no means vulgar.
The friends thou hast, and their adoption tried,
Grapple them to thy soul with hoops of steel;
But do not dull thy palm with entertainment
Of each new-hatched, unfledged comrade. Beware
Of entrance to a quarrel; but, being in,

Bear it that the opposer may beware of thee.
Give ev'ry man thine ear, but few thy voice:

Take each man's censure, but reserve thy judgment.
Costly thy habit as thy purse can buy,

But not expressed in fancy; rich, not gaudy:

For the apparel oft proclaims the man.

Neither a borrower, nor a lender be:

For loan oft loses both itself and friend;

And borrowing dulls the edge of husbandry.

This, above all,—To thine own self be true;

And it must follow, as the night the day,
Thou canst not then be false to any man.