Izaho dia naisento
Ar' izaho dia ory,
Raha Andriamanitra
No saini' ko, faly aho.

Velona, aho olonibelona
Maty, Jehovah no ahy,
Inona no mampahony!
I Jesoy efa nisolo.

TRANSLATION.

BY MR. EDWARD BAKER.

Afflictive sin! from thy disease,
What can my guilty soul release?
Jesus alone the med'cine knows,
From Jesus' wounds the healing flows.

Submit then, O my soul, to sigh,

And weep thou, O my tearful eye; But when thy love, my God, I view. My heart and voice their joy renew.

Living, I human griefs sustain;
Dying, Jehovah is my gain
What then to me is earthly care?

For Jesus died my woes to bear.

COWSLIP GREEN.

[Vignette.]

BY THE REV. HENRY THOMPSON, M.A.

Cowslip Green is an untenanted cottage residence in the beautiful valley of Wrington, and was, many years since, the residence of the late Mrs. Hannah More.]

LIGHT rests around each honour'd spot,

Trod by the wise and good,

The scutcheon'd hall, the ivied cot,

The hearthless solitude:

As when with reverent step we trace
The path their lives went down,
Lingering by each old storied place,
Renown'd in their renown.

Rude Husbandry may lay the land
In fertile ruin round,

Or Eden, rear'd by Beauty's hand,
Bloom o'er that charmed ground.

* “ Quùm ea loca videmus, in quibus memoriâ dignos viros accepimus multùm fuisse versatos, magis movemur, quam si quando eorum ipsorum aut facta audimus, aut scriptum aliquid legimus."

CICERO.

Or Desolation, blank and lone,
There frown in sullen sway;
Still the pure light lives quenchless on,
Through change and o'er decay.

There the rapt soul, from earth remov'd,
Communion soars to hold

With each great mind that dwelt or rov'd
Amid those haunts of old.

Sweet dream, but soon to melt in air!
Yet, did we rightly deem,

That dream might shape substantial wear,
When life shall be a dream.

Go, pilgrim! and when Earth's dull truth
Falls deadening round thy track,
And Memory wooes the light of youth
To thy dark bosom back,

And, musing o'er the vision'd hour,

Spent in this sainted glade,

Fain wouldst thou prove again the power

Thy willing soul obey'd :

Ask why around this still retreat
Such holy gleams abide;

And Faith may win like influence sweet
Home to thine own hearthside.

Go,-through" an atmosphere of love*,"

Gaze, with a heart resign'd,

On all around thee and above;

Thy Saviour and thy kind.

"She lived and walked in an atmosphere of love." Mr. Harford's

obituary sketch.

Live to his glory and their weal;
So, while friends fall away,

While hearts best lov'd and trusted feel
Estrangement's icy sway;

While die or part the faithful few,
One Friend shall still be near,
One fadeless hope;-to meet the true,
Blest in his presence dear,

Thus, though thy wanderings ne'er again
These solemn scenes explore,

Thou still shalt tread, nor tread in vain,
The lucid steps of MORE.

Nor shall dim Fancy's dreams alone
That holy presence bring;

When meet Earth's myriads round the throne Of Heaven's descending King,

Where shine the spirits of the just

From imperfection free,†

There hope, with no delusive trust,
With that lov'd saint to be.

"The spirits of just men made perfect." Heb. xii. 23.

Rectory, Wrington, May 9th, 1834

THE MISSION OF TELEMACHUS.

BY THE REV. CHARLES B. TAYLER.

"EVERY thing is worth seeing in that magnificent city," said a young soldier, who stood at the entrance of a spacious grotto, carelessly leaning against the rock. His casque and gleaming arms, seen chiefly by their burnished lustre, were lying on the low couch from which he had just risen. He had wrapped his cloak around him; and the strong but elegantly shaped leg, the lower part of which was alone seen, the hand that grasped and gathered up the loose folds of the cloak, the whole outline of his tall and erect figure, were remarkable for manly grace. He was the brother of the youthful hermit whose cell he had visited, and he was then journeying from Rome to his native city in Syria.

The countenance of the soldier was handsome and animated; that of the hermit, though less handsome, was infinitely finer. Its habitual expression was calm, and cheerful, and open; it met the gaze of man fully and steadily, and yet with that ingenuous modesty which seems left by youth on the faces of some grown up to mature manhood, and not only left there by youth, but preserved there by the pureness of that wisdom which is from above.

The hermit had been writing at a rude table while his brother slept, but, when the tired soldier rose up from repose, refreshed and invigorated, the other laid