A

ANGELIC MINISTRY.

ND is there care in Heaven? And is there love
In heavenly spirits to these creatures base,

That may compaffion of their evils move?

There is, ― else much more wretched were the case
Of men than beafts: but O! the exceeding grace
Of highest God, that loves His creatures so,
And all His works with mercy doth embrace,
That blefféd angels He sends to and fro,

To serve to wicked man, to serve His wicked foe!

How oft do they their filver bowers leave,
To come to succor us that succor want!
How oft do they with golden pinions cleave
The fitting fkies, like flying pursuivant,
Against foul fiends to aid us militant!

They for us fight, they watch and duly ward,

And their bright squadrons round about us plant;

And all for love and nothing for reward;

Oh, why should heavenly God to men have such regard?

3

Edmund Spenser.

LARVE.

Y little maiden of four years old

MY

(No myth, but a genuine child is fhe, With her bronze-brown eyes, and her curls of gold) Came, quite in disguft, one day, to me.

Rubbing her fhoulder with rosy palm,

As the loathsome touch seemed yet to thrill her, She cried, "Oh, mother, I found on my arm

A horrible, crawling caterpillar !"

And with mischievous smile fhe could scarcely smother, Yet a glance, in its daring, half-awed and fhy,

She added, "While they were about it, mother,

I wish they'd just finished the butterfly!"

They were words to the thought of the soul that turns
From the coarser form of a partial growth,

Reproaching the Infinite Patience that yearns
With an unknown glory to crown them both.

Ah, look thou largely, with lenient eyes,
On whatso befide thee may creep and cling,

For the poffible beauty that underlies
The paffing phase of the meanest thing!

What if God's great angels, whose waiting love

Beholdeth our pitiful life below,

From the holy height of their heaven above,

Couldn't bear with the worm till the wings fhould grow?

Atlantic Monthly.

SHE

THE GATE OF HEAVEN.

HE ftood outfide the gate of heaven, and saw them entering in,

A world-long train of fhining ones, all washed in blood from fin.

The hero-martyr in that blaze uplifted his ftrong eye,
And trod firm the reconquered soil of his nativity!

And he who had despised his life, and laid it down in pain,

Now triumphed in its worthinefs, and took it up again.

The holy one, who had met God in desert cave alone, Feared not to ftand with brethren around the Father's throne.

They who had done, in darkest night, the deeds of light and flame,

Circled with them about as with a glowing halo came.

And humble souls, who held themselves too dear for earth to buy,

Now pafféd through the golden gate, to live eternally.

And when into the glory the laft of all did go, "Thank God! there is a heaven," fhe cried, "though mine is endless woe."

The angel of the golden gate said: "Where, then, doft thou dwell?

And who art thou that entereft not?"

caped from hell."

"A soul es

"Who knows to blefs with prayer like thine, in hell can never be ;

God's angel could not, if he would, bar up this door from thee."

She left her fin outfide the gate, fhe meekly entered

there,

Breathed free the bleffed air of heaven, and knew her

native air.

Disciple's Hymn Book.

GOD KNOWN BY LOVING HIM.

IS not the skill of human art

Which gives me power my God to know;

The sacred leffons of the heart

Come not from inftruments below.

Love is my teacher. He can tell

The wonders that he learnt above; No other mafter knows so well; 'Tis LOVE alone can tell of LOVE.

O, then of God if thou wouldst learn,
His wisdom, goodness, glory, see;
All human arts and knowledge spurn,
Let love alone thy teacher be.

Love is my mafter. When it breaks,
The morning light, with rifing ray,
To thee, O God! my spirit wakes,
And love inftructs it all the day.

And when the gleams of day retire,
And midnight spreads its dark control,

Love's secret whispers ftill inspire

Their holy leffons in the soul.

Madame Guyon.