Another to my cherished flock

Shall break the bread of peace! Yes, though my fleeting hours be told Though I, the watchman, sleep, A better watch I leave fold my "The Shepherd of the sheep!" 'Tis now our well-remembered nights, Begun and closed in prayer, Our Sabbaths on the snowy heights, Our mutual toil and care,

Our glorious hope and sympathy,

Our vows before the shrine,

Come, like the dayspring from on high,
To cheer me when I pine!

And cheered I am! My fever's dream
Is ripening into day!

my last fond theme

Pray for your pastor— pray!

Pray for the church your faith hold fast!

Strive on, as ye have striven;

So shall we meet, to form at last

One family in heaven!

"WHERE is thy home?" I asked a child,

Who, in the morning air,

Was twining flowers most sweet and wild In garlands for her hair.

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My home," the happy heart replied, And smiled in childish glee, "Is on the sunny mountain side,

Where soft winds wander fiee."
O, blessings fall on artless youth,
And all its rosy hours,

When every word is joy and truth,
And treasures live in flowers.

"Where is thy home?" I asked of one Who bent, with flushing face,

To hear a warrior's tender tone
In the wild wood's secret place.
She spoke not, but her varying cheek
The tale might well impart;

The home of her young spirit meek
Was in a kindred heart.

Ah! souls that well might soar above,
To earth will fondly cling,

And build their hopes on human love,
That light and fragile thing.

"Where is thy home, thou lonely man?

I asked a pilgrim gray,

Who came with furrowed brow, and

Slow musing on his way :

wan,

He paused, and with a solemn mien
Upturned his holy eyes-

"The land I seek thou ne'er hast seen,
My home is in the skies!"

O, blessed, thrice blessed, the heart must ve
To whom such thoughts are given,
That walks from worldly fetters free -
Its only home in heaven.

LESSON XLVI.

Thought and Deed. KENNEDY.

FULL many a light thought man may cherish,
Full many an idle deed may do ;
Yet not a deed or thought shall perish,
Not one but he shall bless or rue.

When by the wind the tree is shaken,
There's not a bough or leaf can fall,
But of its falling heed is taken
By One that sees and governs all.

The tree may fall and be forgotten,
And buried in the earth remain ;
Yet from its juices rank and rotten
Springs vegetating life again.

The world is with creation teeming,
And nothing ever wholly dies;

And things that are destroyed in seeming,
In other shapes and forms arise.

And nature still unfolds the tissue

Of unseen works by spirit wrought;
And not a work but hath its issue
With blessing or with evil fraught.

And thou mayst seem to leave behind thee
All memory of the sinful past;

Yet O, be sure thy sin shall find thee,
And thou shalt know its fruits at last.

LESSON XLVII.

Night. J. MONTGOMERY.

NIGHT is the time for rest;

How sweet, when labors close.

To gather round an aching breast

The curtain of repose,

Stretch the tired limbs, and lay the head

Upon our own delightful bed!

Night is the time for dreams;

The gay romance of life,

When truth that is and truth that seems,

Blend in fantastic strife;

Ah, visions less beguiling far

Than waking dreams by daylight are.

Night is the time for toil;

To plough the classic field,

Intent to find the buried spoil

Its wealthy furrows yield;

Till all is ours that sages taught,
That poets sang or heroes wrought.

Night is the time to weep ;

To wet with unseen tears

Those graves of memory where sleep

The joys of other years

Hopes that were angels in their birth,
But perished young, like things on earth.

Night is the time to watch;

On ocean's dark expanse To hail the Pleiades, or catch

The full moon's earliest glance, That brings unto the homesick mind All we have loved and left behind.

Night is the time for care;

Brooding on hours misspent, To see the spectre of despair Come to our lonely tent;

Like Brutus, 'midst his slumbering host, Startled by Cæsar's stalwart ghost.

Night is the time to muse;

Then from the eye the soul

Takes flight, and with expanding views

Beyond the starry pole,

Descries athwart the abyss of night

The dawn of uncreated light.

Night is the time to pray;

Our Savior oft withdrew

To desert mountains far away;
So will his followers do;