"In thee is our hope, we murmur no more,
"For thou wilt receive us to mansions of light !”

Then give me the garland, and give the bouquet,
I'll love her, watch o'er her, and guard while I live;
To our Saviour commend her at deaths parting day,
And trust, soon, in Heaven, new greeting to give.

EXTERNAL BEAUTY.

'TIS evanescent as a dream;

'Tis light and tenuis as the air;

'Tis fleeting as the gliding stream;
Tho' we may call it wond'rous fair:
We've scarcely time to call it fair,
Before 'tis flown no more to come;

'Tis like the bird that flits the air,

Which straight is gone elsewhere to roam.
Then gather richer peace of mind,

This treasure, when you gain, you'll prize;
For, not to earthly scenes confin'd,

It looks to dwell beyond the skies.

THE TREASURE.

"Tis richer than the fragrant gale,
Tho' that Arabia's sweetness bear,
And India's spices, that exhale
Their odors to the balmy air:

'Tis sweeter than the hillock side, Tho' verdure smile its beauty there, And silver stream with pebbly glide,

Softly and slow is murmuring near:

"Tis better than the morning song To raise delight, tho' all the grove, With every echo, flow along

-Yes,-all the choristers that rove:

'Tis softer than the twinkling star; Than Cynthia's beamlets floating clear;

Than azure, gleaming from afar,

Tho' light from milky way it bear:

"Tis better than the wealth that flows,

From India to the Southern pole,
Tho' all beneath the earth that glows,
With all above, its riches roll:

Before the blast from trump of fame,

This rich possession I would chuse,
Tho' mounting on the burning beam,
To darkest, deepest night it go:

Give me a throne on Andes rais'd-A sceptre o'er the world I'd wield, -Then, to gain this so justly prais'd; I'd joyful fly to glean the field :

Let friendship and affection twine
Their finest fibres round my heart,
With all the joys, let these combine,
They ever knew, I'd with them part:

Yet there's a gem-the cottage pure, Where calm contentment peaceful dwells;—

But e'en before this I'd prefer,

The treasure that my bosom tells.

'Tis richer than the vault of Heav'n,

'Tis richer than the gems that shine, With diamonds glowing morn and even, Around the fair celestial shrine

And, Oh my God! what is this treasure, Whose riches so surpass all measure ? Oh God!-what is it but thy smile!!