POETRY. - THE WEEPING BIRCH TREE, IN AUTUMN. Gem of the grove! like a maiden fair, With thy silvery arms, and thy golden hair; Not a tree in the woods that can vie with thee; From the laurel bank thou hast made thy spring, While it passes away from the other trees, And so all through the sunny day, It is in the dark and gloomy hour, Happy the emblem! teach me this For his good a smile, for his griefs a moan; To joy with him when he is made to rejoice, H. V. T. ADVENT HYMN. "The Lord is at hand."-Phil. iv. 5. Yes, it is He who attends our way, In the starless night, as in sunniest day, Each time the family board is spread With the fruit of the corn and the vine, If the cloud of affliction gather low, Encircling the cloud with His peaceful bow, But a world has died!-yet a world may Such are the angels' strains, "The Lord is at hand!" believe and live! Their hymn on Bethlehem's plains. § revive! And who art thou, mourner? sin-stricken, sad, Thy Lord is "at hand"-He speaks! be glad, But lo! "He's" at hand in a brighter reign, The heavens are stooping, the skies proclaim, While all around His thunders roll, With their seven-times echoing voice, ** And His lightnings flash from either pole; †† He is calling his saints to rejoice. *John xxi. 12. + Mark vi. 31. Matt. xi. 28. Gen. vii. 1. Luke ii. 10-15. ++ Matt. xxiv. 27. "Come, mine elect! in thy chambers hide” From the fiery tempest-blast; "For a little moment there abide," Now wake thee to thy heavenly birth, The flowers appear on the springing earth, "The voice of the turtle is heard in our land," "Tis the break of eternal day; Earth's shadows have fled, "The Lord is at hand," H. V. T. "SOON, NOT SURPRISING." [The child, whose falling asleep is here referred to, attended divine service on the evening of the first Sunday in October last, and on her return home complained of indisposition, which, though at first, exciting little alarm, terminated fatally on the following Tuesday night.] SABBATH anthems round thee swelling, Beckoned by the western ray, * Isaiah xxvi. 20. + Cant. ii. 11-13. Pilgrim fair; whose steps were treading Noontide heat shall never smite thee; Thee from all who love thee best. Christ, thine infant weakness heeding; Brought thee where his lambs were feeding, Far from sin, from danger free Safe within the bright land, whither Fondly turns the sufferer's eye; Could a sigh recall thee hither, Who would heave that cruel sigh? By thy loving Saviour taken, Where just souls made perfect dwell; Thou didst fall asleep to waken, Roused by heaven's full choral swell; We, like her of old, who weeping Whispres meekly-"It is well." LYRA. CROOKSBURY HILL. [This beautiful and lofty hill forms a very prominent feature in th exquisite scenery of Surrey. It stands near Waverley Abbey. Its ancient name is said to have been Crux Hill, or the hill of the cross, a stone cross having in former times stood on the summit. Thither the Cistercian Monk was wont to repair, to perform his devotions. The purple flowers of the Heather and Harebell abound there.] Majestic, fir-crowned hill, Rising like some huge giant from the plain, How beautiful and fair, From thy proud summit, do those scenes appear, From thy lone lofty height Prayer hath ascended oft in times gone by Which, near thy base, old hill, in beauty stand, There 'mid the fragrant flowers His prayers were uttered, and his teardrops shed, The glorious grandeur of awakening day, Both cross and monk lie low, And yet thou rear'st thy head, thou ancient hill, Type of the trusting faith, Which 'mid the sad mutations of this life Looks calmly upward, and unscathed bears on ANNIE WHITE. |