riefs, allays my fears, nd treasures up my tears. ld tempt my soul to stray ly wisdom's narrow way; od I would pursue, ng I would not do; felt temptation's power ne in that dang'rous hour. ove my bosom swell, hose I priz'd too well, pitying aid bestow, earth severer woe; ayed, denied, or fled, o shar'd his daily bread. thoughts within me rise, smayed, my spirit dies; THE the accursed tree, eding, who is Hie? so pale and dim, ood, and writhing limbwith scourges tornn of twisted thornso deeply pierced-d, burning thirst-ing death-dew'd brow'tis thou! 'tis thou! the accursed tree, wful, who is He? t noon-day pale, Yet he who once vouchsaf'd to bear Thou, Saviour, mark'st the tears I shed; CRUCIFIXION. cks, and rending veilit trembled at His dooniints who burst their tombmised, ere He died, at His sideppliant knees we bow, 'tis thou! 'tis thou! Bound upon the accursed tree, R. GRANT. In the chambers of the dead- THE FAIREST FLOWER. lower that ever blow'd Calvary's tree, 'blood in rivers flow'd, f worthless me. ue, its sweetest smell, can declare; MILMAN. Nor can the tongue of angels tell THE SPREAD OF THE GOSPEL. land's icy mountains, a's coral strand; 's sunny fountains their golden sand. an ancient river, y a balmy plain, to deliver I from error's chain. h the spicy breezes on Ceylon's isle, ry prospect pleases, man is vile, In vain with lavish kindness The gifts of God are strewn ; The heathen, in his blindness, Bows down to wood and stone. Shall we, whose souls are lighted With wisdom from on high; Shall we, to man benighted, The lamp of life deny? Salvation! oh! salvation! The joyful sound proclaim, Till each remotest nation Has learnt Messiah's name. Waft, waft ye winds, His story, It spreads from pole to pole; Till o'er our ransom'd nature WHAT IS TIME? I ask'd an aged man, a man of cares, Wrinkled and curv'd, and white with hoary hairs: "Time is the warp of life," he said; "O tell The young, the fair, the gay, to weave it well!" I ask'd the ancient, venerable dead, "Time sow'd the seeds we reap. in this abode!" I ask'd a dying sinner, ere the stroke Of ruthless death life's golden bowl had broke; I ask'd him, What is time? "Time," he replied, "I've lost it,-ah! the treasure!" and he died. I ask'd the golden sun and silver spheres, Those bright chronometers of days and HEBER. And they replied, (no oracle more wise,) "Tis folly's blank, and wisdom's highest prize!" I ask'd a spirit lost; but, oh! the shriek That pierc'd my soul! I shudder while I speak, It cried, A particle, a speck, a mite Of endless years, duration infinite!" Of things inanimate, my dial I Consulted; and it made me this reply: "Time is the season fair of living well, The path to glory, or the path to hell 1 ask'd my Bible, and methinks it said, "Time is the present hour, the past is fled; Live, live to-day; to-morrow never yet On any human being rose or set." I ask'd old father Time himself, at last; But in a moment he flew swiftly past; His chariot was a cloud, the viewless wind His noiseless steeds, that left no trace behind. I ask'd the mighty angel, who shall stand One foot on sea, and one on solid land; "By heaven's great King, I swear the myst'ry's o'er! Time was," he cried; "but time shall be no more!" SIC VITA. MARSDEN. Even such is man, whose borrowed light TIME. KING. Why sit'st thou by that ruin'd hall, ? Before my breath, like smoking flax, Man and his marvels pass away; And changing empires wane and wax, Are founded, flourish, and decay. Know'st thou not me? the deep voice cried, Redeem mine hours, the space is brief, So long enjoy'd, so oft misus'd; Alternate in thy fickle pride, Desired, neglected, and accused. While in my glass the sand grains shiver. And measureless thy joy and grief When time and thou shalt part for ever SIR WALTER SCOTT. THE TIME IS SHORT. Short is the time of man below, To buy and sell, to plough and reap. To watch and toil, to rest and sleep. The time is short, then judge aright, And learn the lesson of its flight; For in that time, and that alone, Eternity is lost or won. ough time be short, O man! e fools ungodly mirth, THE The time is short to bear thy cross, CHRISTIAN PILGRIM. ened with thy sin, oves the mourner's tears- n'd, and bought, and blest. Safe from all the lures of vice, In a world like this remains; LINES UPON A MOTHER'S DEATH. her!-ye mourning throng, sin and death hold reign, d Shepherd was her stay. CRABPE. His word, His law, was her command, May claim the mortal frame of clay, That leads to homes shut out from day! Bid her high welcome to that shore, Where sin and sorrow meet no more ;- Take comfort, children, do not weep, S WRITTEN AMONG THE RUINS OF A VILLAGE CHURCH ofless village church, egate of heaven. 1 mounds are gone, Dread Time, how mighty is thy strength ! When thus we mark thy ravages On the enduring grave. What time the Sabbath morn comes round, We see the train of villagers FEAR OF Not that from life and all its woes, DEATH.-HEB. ii. 15. The hand of death shall set me free; Not that this heart shall then repose In the low vale most peacefully. Ah! when I touch time's farthest brink, A kinder solace must attend; It chills my very soul to think On that dread hour when life must end. GUARDIAN Gently, gently fall, sweet sleep, In vain the flattering verse may breathe, ANGELS.-HEB. i. 14. Pray, then, strive to enter in WHERE ARE THEY? OUR FATHERS, Sweet summer sings in leafy bowers; NOT LOST, BUT Say, why should friendship grieve for those They are not lost, but gone before. They are not lost, but gone before. What the sculptured storied urn, In silence wait Time's final day; G. M. BELL. GONE BEFORE. Who are not lost, but gone before. The friends not lost, but gone before. To Jordan's bank, whene'er we come, And hear the swelling waters roar, Jesus, convey us safely home, To friends not lost, but gone before. ANON. BIBLICAL AND INFIDEL GEOLOGY DIRECTLY OPPOSED; OR, A REFUTATION OF DR. JOHN PYE SMITH'S GEOLOGY, AS CONTAINED IN HIS WORK ON THE RELATION BETWEEN THE HOLY SCRIPTURES AND SOME PARTS OF GEOLOGICAL SCIENCE. BY THE REV. THOMAS LOCKERBY, MINISTER OF CADDER. IN demolishing Dr. Smith's geology, we render completely abortive every attempt to found or support antiscriptural, irrational, and unphilosophical geology; (for no man will ever labour more earnestly, and few with greater ability, and less disingenuity, (p. 484,) for he has left no stone unturned;) and have, therefore, completely proved that the Bible is eternally true, and geology an imposture. We fearlessly affirm the Bible to be true, in its plain meaning and intent, without the aid of philology, or Biblical criticism; and, like Dr. Smith against the Rev. Henry Cole, we solemnly protest against either of these tools touching the charter of our salvation, with the intent to bend it to, or harmonize it with, any science, (Exod. xx. 25; Deut. xxvii. 5.) The Scriptures must be their own interpreter. Alas! every labouring, heavy-laden sinner, cannot attend the useless class of Dr. Robert Lee; and if he could, perhaps he would be turned away from the strait gate, (Matth. vii. 13; Luke xiii. 24,) should the Government Professor not be able, or willing, to direct to it, and how to enter it. Perhaps there would have been no great loss, though David Buchanan, Easter Muckcroft, and his spirited son, Alexander, of Whitehill, and the brave people in Chryston, had kept Dr. Robert Lee, and his magnanimous co-presbyters, on the 24th January, 1839, and fed them with bread of affliction, and with water of affliction, (1 Kings xxii. 27,) till their hairs were grown like eagle's feathers, and their nails like bird's claws, (Dan. iv. 33.) We cannot exactly give their |