When winter-fortunes cloud the brows

Of summer-friends,—when eyes grow strange,— When plighted faith forgets its vows,

When earth and all things in it change,-
O Lord, thy mercies fail me never—
Where once thou lovs't, thou lovs't for ever.

Great God, whose kingdom hath no end,
Into whose secrets none can dive,
Whose mercy none can apprehend,
Whose justice none can feel-and live,
What my dull heart cannot aspire
To know, Lord, teach me to admire.

FRANCIS TAYLOR.

THE extract which follows is from "Grapes from Canaan, or the Believer's present Taste of Future Glory," by FRANCIS TAYLOR, 1658;" a small volume of occasionally rude, but animated verse.

1

FRANCIS TAYLOR.

DESIRE OF HEAVEN.

O, LONG to be installed in the throne
Of endless glory; let thy spirit groan
After a full and plenary possession
Of blessedness transcending all expression.
Be like the bird of paradise, which, (they say,)
Being entangled in the snare, straightway
Begins to strive, and never giveth o'er
Till she enjoy her freedom as before.

66

Sing Simeon's swan-like song at his decease-
Lord, let thy servant now depart in peace."
Welcome the messenger of death, which brings
Most joyful tidings from the King of kings;
Which tells the saints of an approaching crown
Of matchless glory, honour, and renown.
Death is the chariot, which without delay
Saints to their Father's house bears swift away.
Death is to humble penitents no less
Than a short entrance into happiness,
Death is the saints' ascension-day to bliss;
Their marriage-day with Jesus Christ it is.
Death is the charter of their liberty,
The period of their pain and misery: