So lately broken-hearted;
Now, so supremely blest!
He, who in death departed,
Now, folded to her breast!
And in her deep emotion,
She knelt before the Lord,
And with her soul's devotion,
She worshipped and adored.
In Jesus meek and lowly,
And in his tender love,

She hailed the God most holy,

Who lives and reigns above!

There is a deeper sorrow,
Than aught that mother knew!
Though we the fact may borrow,
To point the type to you:
There is a deeper anguish,

Oh, child of hardened sin,
When we behold you languish,

With dark disease within ;

When though with manly vigour, You draw your mortal breath,

Within is all the rigour

And ghastliness of death.

To

many a mother's heart, And songs resound in heaven, Where angels bear their part. Think of that death appalling, The final hopeless death,

Think of that wondrous calling
Which giveth vital breath,
For they, renewed and living,
Who thus their life regain,
Need seek no short reviving
On earth, like that of Nain.

THE MAN OF SORROWS.

"He was wounded for our transgressions, he was bruised for our iniquities."-ISA. liii. 5.

WHAT a sad picture of placid suffering is that before us! Can we contemplate any individual consigned to punishment, though guiltless, without pity? How much more then, can we look upon PERFECT Innocence exposed to all the extreme horrors of contumely and torture, without the deepest feeling of concern and sympathy? And when we read that this gentle, patient, guileless Being, " was wounded for our transgressions, was bruised for our iniquities," will not that little spark of sympathy kindle into a flame of holy love, and Christ be shed abroad in the heart? It should be so-but is it?

Behold the crown of thorns, the purple robe! that mockery of royalty, in which the semi-barbarian Asiatic