GRAY HAIRS. Which fires the Christian's dying eye, And makes the curtain-fold It seems not lonely thus to lie On that triumphant bed, By white-winged seraphs led : It were not lonely thus to soar And though the way to such a goal There rest no stains of gloom, Far through the blue unpillared skies, Beyond the journeyings of the sun, GRAY HAIRS. THOMAS, LORD VAUX was born at Harrowden, England, about 1510, and died in October, 1556. He was contributor to "The Paradise of Dainty Devices," a collection of verses by various writers. THESE hairs of age are messengers, Which bid me fast, repent, and pray ; They be of death the harbingers, That do prepare and dress the way; They be the lines that lead the length They be the strings of sober sound, God grant to those that white hairs have, Their souls may joy, their lives well spent; God grant, likewise, that you may see Upon my head such hairs to be. THOMAS, LORD VAUX. THE NEW BODY. 439 RED o'er the forest peers the setting sun, The line of yellow light dies fast away That crowned the eastern copse; and chill and dun Falls on the moor the brief November day. Now the tired hunter winds a parting note, And Echo bids good-night from every glade; Yet wait awhile, and see the calm leaves float Each to his rest beneath their parent shade. How like decaying life they seem to glide! And yet no second spring have they in store, But where they fall, forgotten to abide, Is all their portion, and they ask no more. Soon o'er their heads blithe April airs shall sing, A thousand wild-flowers round them shall unfold, The green buds glisten in the dews of spring, Yet he complains, while these unmurmuring part With their sweet lives, as pure from sin and stain As his when Eden held his virgin heart. And haply half unblamed his murmuring voice Might sound in heaven, were all his second life Only the first renewed, the heathen's choice, A round of listless joy and weary strife. DEATH AND JUDGMENT ANTICIPATED. 1749. THOU God of glorious majesty, To thee, against myself, to thee, A sinful worm I cry, An half-awakened child of man, An heir of endless bliss or pain, A sinner born to die. Lo! on a narrow neck of land, 'Twixt two unbounded seas I stand, Secure, insensible! A point of time, a moment's space, Removes me to that heavenly place, Or shuts me up in hell! O God, my inmost soul convert, And wake to righteousness. When thou with clouds shalt come, To judge the nations at thy bar; And tell me, Lord, shall I be there, To meet a joyful doom? Be this my one great business here, - Eternal bliss to ensure! Then, Saviour, then my soul receive, CHARLES WESLEY. LINES WRITTEN THE NIGHT BEFORE HIS EXECUTION. E'EN such is time; which takes on trust Our youth, our joys, our all we have, And pays us but with earth and dust; Which in the dark and silent grave. When we have wandered all our ways, Shuts up the story of our days: But from this earth, this grave, this dust, My God shall raise me up, I trust. SIR WALTER RALEIGH. THE BORDER-LANDS. GRADUATED. MRS. JANE EUPHEMIA SAXBY, author of a volume entitled "The Dove on the Cross," is an English lady whose maiden name was Browne. She was born in 1811. FATHER, into thy loving hands My feeble spirit I commit, A longer life, an earlier death; The light of life's long evening fades. I hear them spoken of with dread, Stood on its brink, as now I stand; My trembling soul; how could I fear What should appall me in a place That brings me hourly nearer thee? When I may almost see thy face, Surely 't is here my soul would be! JANE EUPHEMIA SAXBY. TO THE MEMORY OF MY VENERABLE GRANDFATHER-IN-LAW, SAMUEL MARTIN, WHO WAS TAKEN FROM US IN THE SIXTY-EIGHTH YEAR OF HIS MINISTRY. EDWARD IRVING, founder of the communion of Irvingites, or the "Catholic Apostolic Church" as they call themselves, was born at Annan, Scotland, Aug. 4, 1792, and was educated for the ministry of the Presbyterian Church. He was for a time assistant of Dr. Chalmers, but afterwards went to London, where his mighty eloquence attracted many hearers of the higher classes Having embraced peculiar views on the human nature of Christ, and the revival of the spiritual gifts and offices of the Apostolic Church, he was dismissed from the ministry, and established himself in a room that had been the studio of Benjamin West, the artist, where he framed a ritual. He died in Glasgow, Dec. 8, 1834, and was buried in the cathedral there. FARE well man's dark last journey o'er the deep, Thou sire of sires! whose bow in strength hath stood 441 He is not here, the earnest lad who threw He is not here. Far other prizes now May beckon him. O dear one, long away, What high companionships content thee for Thine absence here to-day? What happy schools, far off, of love and joy Have with their charms the gentle grief consoled With which thy faithful spirit laid aside Not all the learning of the wise of earth Could find an answer. Wearily, mine eye Turns from the smiling company to seek Outside the blue June sky. Through open windows of the crowded church, The word it might make known. The buzz within, the rector's stately speech, I hear again thy Master's simple words, MARY E. BENNETT. PARTING WORDS. "And he said, Let me go, for the day breaketh" LET me go, the day is breaking, In the wilderness below; Let me go, I may not tarry, Wrestling thus with doubts and fears; Angels wait my soul to carry, Where my risen Lord appears: Friends and kindred, weep not so, If ye love me let me go. We have travelled long together, Hand in hand, and heart in heart, 'T is not darkness gathering round me, |