I am content with what I have,
Little be it, or much;

And, Lord, contentment ftill I crave,

Because thou faveft fuch.

Fulness to fuch a burden is,

That go on pilgrimage;

Here little, and hereafter blifs,

Is beft for age to age.

BUNYAN.

XXXIX.

HUMILITY.

HE bird that foars on higheft wing,

Builds on the ground her lowly neft;
And fhe that doth moft fweetly fing,
Sings in the fhade when all things
reft.

In lark and nightingale we fee
What honour hath humility.

When Mary chofe "the better part,"
She meekly fat at Jefus' feet;
And Lydia's gently-opened heart

Was made for God's own temple meet.

Faireft and beft adorned is fhe

Whose clothing is humility.

The faint that wears the brightest crown,

In deepest adoration bends;

The weight of glory bows him down

Then moft when moft his foul ascends;

Neareft the throne itself must be

The footstool of humility.

JAMES MONTGOMERY.

XL.

FAITH AND NATURE.

-'twas Nature wept, but

E wept
Faith

Can pierce beyond the gloom of death,
And in yon world fo fair and bright,
Behold thee in refulgent light.

We miss thee here, yet Faith would rather,
Know thou art with thy Heavenly Father.
Nature fees the body dead
Faith beholds the spirit fled;
Nature ftops at Jordan's tide -
Faith beholds the other fide;

That but hears farewell and fighs -
This, thy welcome in the skies;

Nature mourns a cruel blow

Faith affures it is not fo;

Nature never fees thee more -
Faith but fees thee gone before;

Nature tells a difmal story

Faith has vifions full of glory;

Nature views the change with fadness-
Faith contemplates it with gladness ;
Nature murmurs- -Faith gives meeknefs;
"Strength is perfected in weakness."
Nature writhes and hates the rod
Faith looks up and bleffes God;

That sees harfhness-This fees love;

Oh! let Faith victorious be

Let it reign triumphantly!

But thou art gone! not loft, but flown,
Shall I then ask thee back, my own?
Back-and leave thy fpirit's brightness?
Back-and leave thy robes of whiteness?
Back-and leave thine angel mould ?
Back-and leave those streets of gold?

Back-and leave the Lamb who feeds thee?
Back-from founts to which He leads thee?
Back-and leave thy Heavenly Father?
Back-to earth and fin? Nay, rather
Would I live in folitude!

I would not afk thee, if I could;
But patient wait the high decree,
That calls my spirit home to thee!

XLI.

THE DEAF AND DUMB.

OW the bright fpring comes forth to

clothe the trees,

And her foft-fighing whispers in the breeze;

The liquid warblings, from a thousand throats,

Pour on the perfumed air their richest notes;

The gush of many ftreams comes o'er the foul,
The harmonies of nature past me roll,—

But the deaf hear them not!

It is a Sabbath morn;

and many feet

Haften, thro' funny paths, their God to meet
In His own temple—and on bended knee
Tell Him their wants, and for His pardon pray;
To hear of all His love-to hear and feel,

And send their hearts up with the anthem's swell,—
But the dumb cannot fing!

Amid a bufy world they are alone,

And to no kindred heart can make their moan;
The spirit has no vent.-Oh, who can tell
The paffionate longing, or the struggling swell,
Of the imprisoned Eagle caged within,
To burst its barriers, and its freedom win!—
But the dumb cannot speak.

But there was One, who in His inmoft foul,
Sighed for the mute, and with His touch made whole.
Teach them to know Him! Soon His healing balm
Sheds o'er the struggling foul a holy calm-

No longer desolate, for He is nigh.

Oh! pitying heart, that like thy Lord can figh,
Pray for the deaf and dumb!

A day will come, when on the closed ear
The melodies of Heaven will burst so clear,
That the mute mourner's bounding heart shall note,
And vibrate to the chords that round him float —