And fitter than the water pure

Thus first to know him nought could be; For 'tis the pure in heart, be sure, Who only God shall see.

When before Pharaoh Moses stood,

And gave of wrath the first dread sign,
Egypt saw water chang'd to blood-
Lo! Christ has made it wine.

Each thus perchance an emblem wrought
Of what by each to sinners came;
The law, with death and bondage fraught—
Grace, that doth peace proclaim.

The law to those beneath its curse
Turneth to gall the sweetest food;
Each gift is changed to something worse-
The water is all blood.

The voice that dooms to punishment
Rings in their ears where'er they go;
Life's fairest blessings seem but sent
To nourish them for woe.

Grace, bringing news of sin forgiv'n,
Maketh life's blessings more divine-
A Father's gifts, foretastes of heaven-
The water is made wine.
Christ, ever making all things new,
Ennobling what is poor and base,
Doth common elements endue
With sacramental grace.

In the dear cup of home delight
A holier sweetness is infus'd;
Rare gifts no longer pride excite,
But are as talents us'd.

O blessed change, which all things prove--
Good comes from evil, peace from strife;
Trials are chastisements of love,

And death the gate of life!

Nor does Christ offer first his best,

Like the false world, then what is worse;

His blessings stand Time's trying test,

They suffer no reverse:

Sin comes with flatt'ring accents bland,
With honied lips, and smiling face;
Shake from the glass a little sand,
And then her dealings trace.

Her pleasures faded as they came,

And these the fruits she left behind-
Disease, and restlessness, and shame,
A coward's darken'd mind;

A future without hope or joy,
A sad remembrance of the past:
How soon did all her pleasures cloy-
Her fruits, how long they last!

So treacherous are the ways of sin :
Not thus doth Christ his flock mislead;
First comes his gracious discipline,

Then holy joys succeed:

First come the penitential tears,

Then from his chalice mystic wine;
Hopes, brightening with advancing years,
Through the dark valley shine.

Lord, may thy grace on us be sent,
That we thy happy ways may choose;
Dwelling in love, and ever bent

Its blessings to diffuse.

Still may thy presence grace our board,
And sanctify its decent cheer;

Nor there one thought be uttered, Lord!
Unmeet for thee to hear.

T. I. W.

A CHALDEE LEGEND.

FROM fields where Terah's cattle fed,
In far Chaldee, young Abram sped
Upon his way to Babylon.

And, wand'ring in the wild plains where
Euphrates' eddying torrents tear,

Night found the weary lad alone.

No star to guide, no sound to cheer;
Fell wearily upon his ear

The river's ever-gurgling noise:
And must he tarry there till day
Shall come to light him on his way,
And listen to that mournful voice?

But soon the evening star on high,
Hanging her pale lamp in the sky,

The young Chaldean's hope hath rais'd.
He gazed, as in her lonely light
She walked the darkness of the night;
Till all again was gloom, he gazed.

The shepherd sigh'd, darkness and doubt

Had come again-"Oh! I had thought,

When first those heav'n-lit starbeams shone,

It was the glorious God I seek!

The God of whom the sages speak!

The God, till then, to me unknown.

"But no! though high above the reach
Of all that human lore can teach,
The God I seek is greater far;
That God throughout the endless range
Of untold years can never change

Like thee, thou bright but fleeting star."

At early dawn stood Terah's son
Beneath the walls of Babylon;

And through the eastern gate beheld
Her thousands forth the city poured,
Hastening with homage to their lord,
That now display'd his orb of gold.

He, as the sun ascending blazed,
Upon the sight of glory gazed;

But when he would have worshipp'd there,
Thoughts of the star that fled so soon,
Thoughts of the bright but waning moon,
Whisper'd his heart, Beware.

Through th' eastern gate to Dura's plain,

At eventide, he went again

"Where, said he, "is the bright sun now? See, sinking in the distant west,

He too is hastening to his rest!

Ah, changing thus, no God art thou!"

HYMN ON THE ASCENSION.

LET heaven's heights in wonder gaze
On that bright portal's blissful rays,
Where Jesus enters glorious,
Leading his train victorious.

The same who came from heaven to die,
Death's conqueror now, returns on high,
Henceforth triumphant there to dwell,
Rich with the spoils of vanquish'd hell.

He came the fallen soul to save ;
He came to ransom Satan's slave;
The sheep that left its pastures fair
Back to its peaceful fold to bear.

Mortals may now their clay despise,
And up to heaven earth may rise;
For where the heart hath gone before
There can the members also soar.

H.

Jesus, ador'd by heaven's quire,
Sweetness of life, the soul's desire,
O let thy grace effect that we
With all our hearts may follow thee.

Grant that our life in thee be spent,
Our hearts on thee for ever bent;
And that thy love, with holy fire,
Our breasts for ever may inspire.

AN UNPOETICAL FRIEND OF THE EDITOR'S.

CORRESPONDENCE.

The Editor begs to remind his readers that he is not responsible for the opinions
of his Correspondents.

ON DAILY SERVICE IN CATHEDRALS.

SIR,-It is painful to dwell upon the defects of that which we love and venerate; but where these defects can be very easily remedied, and partake of the nature of abuses, it becomes a duty to expose in the hope of curing them. I must therefore beg permission to call your attention to a defect, very like an abuse, in the performance of the services at St. Paul's. I went there this afternoon for the purpose of attending divine service; to my astonishment, I found that there was no service, and on inquiry learnt that no service would be performed in that cathedral for two or three months, except on Sundays, because a scaffolding is being erected in a part of the church never, I am sorry to say, used for divine service at all, in order that the children of the different charity schools in London may be exhibited on one day in the year. Now, in the first place, supposing the erection of the scaffolding really to make the performance of divine service impossible, is this temporary exhibition, for it is nothing more, a sufficient reason for depriving, during two or three months in every year, the inhabitants of a busy city, thronged at every hour of the day with the eager pursuers after uncertain riches, of the opportunity of daily keeping alive in their minds the recollection that there is something deeper in man than the love of gain, that he is something more than a bubble which appears for a moment to vanish for ever? But that there is really no reason at all for suspending the performance of divine service appears from the fact, that service is performed on Sundays during this very period. I presume at least that no one would venture to allege as a reason for such a practice, the necessity of suspending the labours of the workmen during two hours in each day; and inviting a few of the toil-worn class of our fellow Christians to feel, while joining in the common services of the church, that they were, equally with their richest brethren, members of Christ, and heirs of the kingdom of heaven. I am the more anxious to call your attention to this subject

because I am convinced that the habitual neglect of the daily services both in town and country by the clergy has been productive of much irreligion, and much false religion, and because, at a time when the utility of the cathedral establishments has been called into question in high quarters, it is sad to see the members of those bodies display so little sense of the importance of the duties assigned to them. This is not the first time that I have had occasion to blame them. I was on a former occasion sent away from the cathedral, whither I had gone for the purpose of attending afternoon service, in a similar manner, because the Queen was gone down to open the parliament, and "on that day, said one of the door-keepers, "we always have a holiday;" and twice when I have been in the church on Sundays, though the sacramental plate was put out, as if to lead persons to suppose that the sacrament would be administered, in fact it was not; yet several minor canons were present, who are bound to receive it at least every Sunday if they can; and on the former occasion I myself, and two ladies who accompanied me, were desirous of staying to receive it, and therefore applied to one of the vergers to know whether it would not be administered. He answered, it would not, because there was no congregation. Now, as it happened, my companions and myself would have made precisely the number to which the priest is authorized by the rubric to administer the sacrament, even if no other person is present; but how is there likely to be a congregation if the priests are in the habit of leaving the church before they see whether a sufficient number of communicants stay, and those who wish to stay are sent away? Is this the way to bring Christians back to that feeling of union with Christ through the sacraments instituted by himself, and the services of his church, which now is so sadly forgotten? I will only add, that for the neglect of divine service of which I have first complained, there is not even the poor excuse of the want of attendance; for notwithstanding the melancholy neglect into which the custom of daily attending church is fallen, I have frequently seen at St. Paul's on an afternoon from fifty to a hundred persons who remained during the whole service; and the Rev. Sydney Smith, in his recently published Third Letter to Archdeacon Singleton, states that he has often counted a hundred and fifty. I remain, Sir, yours &c., A BARRISTER OF LINCOLN'S INN. May 14, 1839.

ON THE COLLECTION AT THE OFFERTORY.

DEAR SIR,-I cannot but hope that the suggestion contained in the letter of your correspondent "J. H.," in your number for this month, will receive the attention it deserves. It has so happened that my own mind has been somewhat similarly directed in consequence of a clergyman having brought before a meeting, lately assembled in Dublin, the importance of establishing clerical libraries in this country. On seeing a report of this gentleman's speech in a newspaper, it occurred to me that the present moment might be found to afford considerable