And the fresh blood comes with its roseate hue, And life spreads quick through her frame, Her head is raised to their wondering view, And she murmurs her mother's name.

141.

HYMN.

God of nature, God of love!
Seen below, around, above,

Traced in every varied form,
Heard in every awful storm;
Glorious in the noonday light-
Mild and beautiful in night;
Now, oh bounteous Lord, to thee,
Low we bend the suppliant knee.

'Tis thy goodness glows around,
Decks the field, and clothes the ground;
'Tis thy breath, in gentle gales,
Sweeps along the dewy vales;

'Tis thy bounteous hand distils
Healthful waters from the hills;
To thee O God! our lives we owe
And every blessing here below.

Sacred Offering.

142.

THE FLOWER OF THE DESERT.

When Mungo Park was exploring the interior of Africa, he one day found himself in the midst of a vast desert, in circumstances of such extreme distress that he lay down upon the ground, in despair-longing for death. At this moment a beautiful little moss caught his eye, and the reflection occurred, "Surely that Being who planted and watered, in this obscure part of the world, so small a flower, cannot forget the creatures, whom he has formed after his own image."-The thought at once touched his heart, and gave him the fortitude he needed.

A wanderer came like a stricken deer,
O'er the wastes of burning sand;
He bore the wound of an Arab spear,
He fled from a ruthless band.

And dreams of home in a rushing tide,
Swept over his darkening eye,

As down he lay by the fountain side
In his mute despair to die.

But his eye was struck by the desert's flower,
The precious boon of Heaven!

And sudden hope, like a vernal shower,
To his fainting heart was given.

For the bright flower spoke of God above,
Of the presence felt to brood,

With a spirit of pervading love
O'er the wildest solitude.

Oh the seed was thrown these wastes among In a blest and gracious hour!

For the wanderer rose, his heart made strong, By that lonely little flower.

Christian Reformer.

143.

A PRAYER.

God! that madest earth and heaven,
Darkness and light!

Who the day for toil, hast given,
For rest, the night!

May thine angel-guards defend us!
Slumber sweet in mercy send us,
Holy dreams and hopes to tend us—
The livelong night!

144.

HYMN.

Almighty Parent of our race,

A youthful train before thee bend, With hearts inclined to seek thy face, And hail thee as their guardian friend.

Direct us early in thy way,

Lest folly's paths our feet entice;

O check our wanderings when we stray, And save us from the snares of vice.

Still may we keep thy word in sight,
By Jesus to mankind supplied;

In sorrow's shade, make it our light,

In duty's course, our law and guide.

As long as thou our lives dost spare,
Let all their powers to thee be given,
And may each scene our souls prepare
For death, for judgment, and for heaven.

H. Hutton.

145.

THE ENQUIRING MIND GRATIFIED.

Who gave the sun his noon-day light? Who taught the moon to shine by night? Whose hands the sheet of heaven unrolled, All set with stars, like drops of gold?

Who gave the winds their course to know,
The ocean tides, to ebb and flow,
And day and night preserve their bounds,
And changing seasons know their rounds?