LIFE.

THE child lay down to rest!
His bright eye had no tear;

His glad heart felt no fear,
Not yet by grief distress'd:
One little hand still clasp'd his toy;
His dreams were only dreams of joy.

The man lay down to weep!
Since he had been a child,

Stern grief and anguish wild,-
Those thorns, which sin doth keep
Still lurking near each earthly flower,-
Had pierced his soul with withering power.

Old age lay down to die!

Life's joyous hours were flown,
Labour and sorrow known.

I heard the last faint sigh.

The child-the man-the veteran,-all
Were shrouded 'neath the funeral pall.

Then what is life? A smile,
And then a tear!-a breath
Just drawn, and lost in death!
Young for a little while,

We sport on waves which o'er us surge;
Then into age from youth we merge.

Yet more than this is life!

From childhood's happy cot,
From manhood's tearful lot,
From age's last death-strife,
All must arise, arise to know
Eternal joy or endless wo.

Then give us grace, O Lord,
Whether we smile, or weep-
Or live, or die—or keep
Or lose our earthly gourd,

To lay us down in peace with Thee,
And wake with joy Thy face to see.

TRACT MAGAZINE.

HISTORY OF AN ACORN.
(ABRIDGED.)

AN acorn fell from an old oak-tree,

And lay on the frosty ground

"Oh! what shall the fate of the acorn be?" Was whisper'd all around,

HISTORY OF AN ACORN.

141

By low-toned voices, chiming sweet,
Like a floweret's bell when swung-
And grasshopper-steeds were gathering fleet,
And the beetle's hoofs up rung-

For the woodland-fays came sweeping past
In the pale autumnal ray,

Where the forest-leaves were falling fast,
And the acorn quivering lay.

To a little sprite was the task assign'd
To bury the acorn deep,

Away from the frost and searching wind,
When they through the forest sweep.

The spring time came with its fresh, warm air,
And its gush of woodland song;

The dew came down, and the rain was there,
And the sunshine rested long.

Then softly the black earth turn'd aside,
The old leaf arching o'er,

And up where the last year's leaf was dried,
Came the acorn-shell once more.

With coiled stem and a pale green hue
It look'd but a feeble thing;

Then deeply its roots abroad it threw,
Its strength from the earth to bring.