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Of man immortal.-In that magic zone?
No, nor where'er our searching eyes we raise.
Wisdom is not of these!

Where? What is wisdom? 'Tis to fear the Lord,
To humble down the proud and daring heart,
To feel, not scan alone, His holy word;
Cast off the world-and take the Christian's part;
Believe-repent-pray earnestly for grace,
Sincerely ask-forgive-and do no wrong:
CHILD, this it is to sit in wisdom's place,
The sinner's hate, the theme of angels' song:
Since all must die, and meet the loathsome grave,
Pride-riches-power-have nothing to impart;
Equality in dust!-Then, my child, crave
A broken spirit and a contrite heart:
CHILD!-wisdom is of these!

THE HOME OF LOVE.

As the poor bird, from out the ark set free,
Found on the deluged earth no spot to rest;
And, frighted by the wild upheaving sea,
Sought anxiously its late forsaken nest:

So, Lord, again my spirit seeks its home,
Its home-the blest assurance of thy love,
Where, safe from whelming surge, and blinding foam,
The breath of prayer wafts gladness from above.
Thy love is home! home to the grateful mind,
Made one with Thee by strong rejoicing trust,

And to Thy will in every wish resign'd,

Though all its "pleasant things" be turn'd to dust.

Thy love is home! There is no home beside,

For man's far-reaching and immortal thought, Which wastes its might in joyless wand'rings wide, Till to that rest in meek subjection brought. There only may we grasp sufficing good,

And feast our spirits with divinest lore, Strong to enkindle Hope's most raptured mood, With visions high, unfolding evermore! Foretastes of bliss eternal, gleams of light, Revealing fairest imag'ry of heaven, Felt wonders of the Spirit's inward might, To happy dwellers there, are freely given. They breathe an element whose vital power Spreads through each faculty unsullied life, A soul within the soul,-mysterious dower, Bequeath'd by Him who conquer'd in the strife!

O, thought sublime! the creature, and the God,
Bound each to each by law of perfect love,-
The spirit prison'd in a shapen clod,

Free through the uncreated depths to move!
Love is the home of liberty and peace,

Which power omnipotent alone doth frame;-
The palace of the soul, where never cease
Glory and joy, words may but feebly name.
Like stars that o'er a stormy ocean smile,

The chosen few in brightness dwelling there,
Fling lustre o'er this troubled scene awhile,—
On earth still present, though to heaven so near.

A home of love awaits them in the skies,
With blissful friendships, and affections pure;-
For this the Christian lives, and joyful dies,
Trusting the mighty Saviour's promise sure.

Cheltenham.

ARGÆUS.

WRITTEN BY A YOUNG LADY IN HER BIBLE,

THE DAY SHE COMPLETED HER FOURTEENTH YEAR.

THOU Book of Life! thy healing balm still flows
To calm our grief, to ease our many woes.

Amid our trouble and adversity,

When mortal help hath fail'd, we turn to thee,
And find within thee never-failing truth,—

A lamp to cheer our age and guide our youth.

The sailor wandering o'er the sea afar,
Deprived of light from every lesser star,
Upon the angry, stormy billows tost,
His vessel sinking, and his compass lost,—

O, what bright hopes would fill his trembling soul
If he should see the star that points the pole,
Over the foamy waves and billows dark
Shedding effulgence and ethereal spark!
How would he steer his ship with grateful hand,
Led by that light, and guided safe to land!

So 'twas with me: tost on life's stormy wave,
I turn'd to thee, and found thee strong to save:
No longer o'er the sea of discord driven,
But safely harbour'd within sight of heaven;
Lifted above the world's contentious strife,
And anchor'd by the hope of bright eternal life.

London: R. Needham, Printer, Paternoster-Row.

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THE SAND-WIND OF THE DESERT.

(With an Engraving.)

OUR Number for June last contained an account of that fearful natural phenomenon, the Sand-wind of the Desert, extracted from "A Visit to Egypt and Sinai, by Alexander Dumas." This month we present the reader with an engraving which most impressively depicts the occurrence which the verbal representation describes. We give, likewise, an additional account of this dreadful species of tempest, as occurring in the Syrian deserts,-extracted from a "Narrative," given by Lamartine, in his "Travels in the East."

We took the road, says the Narrative, towards the country of Heggias, sleeping each night among the tribes which covered the desert. On the fifth day, after passing the night under the tents of El Henadi, we arose with the sun, and went out to saddle our dromedaries, when we found, to our great surprise, that their heads were buried in the sand, and it was not possible for us to draw them out. We called the Bedouins of the tribe to our aid, who informed us that the instinct of the camels led them to conceal their heads thus, in order to escape the simoom; that their doing so was an infallible presage of that terrible tempest of the desert, which would not be long in breaking loose; and that we could not proceed on the journey without meeting a certain death. The camels, who perceive the approach of this fearful storm two or three hours before it bursts, turn themselves to the VOL. III. Second Series.

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