with saying, that the most gifted in our congregation cannot find a worthier field of labor than the Sunday school. The noblest work on earth is to act with an elevating power on a human spirit. The greatest men of past times have not been politicians or warriors, who have influenced the outward policy or grandeur of kingdoms; but men, who, by their deep wisdom and generous sentiments, have given light and life to the minds and hearts of their own age, and left a legacy of truth and virtue to prosperity. Whoever, in the humblest sphere, imparts God's truth to one human spirit, partakes their glory. He labors on an immortal nature. He is laying the foundation of imperishable excellence and happiness. His work, if he succeed, will outlive empires and the stars.

THE DELUGE.

BY MRS. ROLLS.

When o'er the mountains rose the orb of day,
And spread o'er vale and plain his cheering ray,
How swell'a the human bosom with delight,

As the rich landscapes burst upon the sight!

The ripening harvest waved in golden pride,
And clustering vineyards clothed the hillock's side;
Whence rose the song which lighten'd labour's toil,
As bow'd the swain beneath the luscious spoil;
Where the fair valley spread her bosom green,
What varied forms of busy life were seen!

There toil'd the hind, the hunter led the chase,
Or the bold warrior moved with martial grace;
Whilst blooming beauty cull'd the opening flower,
Or led the dance through pleasure's roseate bower;
Then, half-conceal'd beneath the cedar's shade,
The humble dwelling its white walls display'd;
Or the proud city's loftier domes arise,

Where pomp and grandeur caught th' admiring eyes.
Fair was the scene! but guilt and pain were there;
The tyrant master, and the slave's despair;
The haughty brow, that heaven's just God defied,
The lust of pleasure, and the rage of pride;fon
There, from their bowls, the midnight revellers reel;
There the fell murderer grasps the reeking steel:
By rapine led, the plunderers track their way,
Through waste and slaughter, to their hapless prey;
Whilst age and infancy lament in vain,

Or bleed, the victims of the impious train.

Mustering his wrath, awhile his anger stay'd; Till full their cup, the Lord of Heaven delay'd To pour his vengeance; as the whirlwind sleeps, Ere o'er the main with furious blast it sweeps, Then burst at once, on earth's astonished train, The raging tempest and tremendous rain; Whilst pealing thunders heaven's vast concave rend, And, struck by lightning, rolling rocks descend; High heaves the ocean's bed—the o'erwhelming tide Rushes against the mountain's yielding side; 'Tis vain for succour to those hills to fly, For now not e'en their loftiest tops are dry; Beast, man, and city, share one common grave, And calm above them rolls the avenging wave; Whilst yon dark speck, slow floating, now contains, Of beast or human life the sole remains.

THE LAST DAY.

HARK! from the deep of heaven, a trumpet-sound
Thunders the dizzy universe around;

From north to south, from east to west it rolls,
A blast that summons all created souls;
The dead awaken from their dismal sleep:
The sea has heard it ; coiling up with dread,
Myriads of mortals flash from out her bed!
The graves fly open, and, with awful strife,
The dust of ages startles into life!

All who have breathed, or moved, or seen, or felt;
All they around whose cradles kingdoms knelt;
Tyrants and warriors, who were throned in blood:
The great and mean, the glorious and the good,
Are raised from every isle, and land, and tomb,
To hear the changeless and eternal doom.

But while the universe is wrapt in fire, Ere yet the splendid ruin shall expire,

Beneath a canopy of flame behold,

With starry banners at his feet unroll'd,

Earth's Judge: around seraphic minstrels throng,
Breathing o'er golden harps celestial song ;

While melodies aerial and sublime

Weave a wild death-dirge o'er departing Time.

Imagination! furl thy wings of fire,

And on Eternity's dread brink expire;
Vain would thy red and raging eye behold
Visions of Immortality unroll'd!

The last, the fiery chaos hath begun,

Quench'd is the moon and blacken'd is the sun!
The stars have bounded through the airy roar;
Crush'd lie the rocks, and mountains are no more;
The deep unbosom'd, with tremendous gloom
Yawns on the ruin, like creation's tomb!<

And, lo! the living harvest of the Earth,
Reap'd from the grave, to share a second birth;
Millions of eyes, with one deep dreadful stare,
Gaze upward through the burning realms of air;
While shapes, and shrouds, and ghastly features gleam,
Like lurid snow-flakes in the moonlight beam.

Upon the flaming Earth one farewell glance!
The billows of Eternity advance;

No motion, blast, or breeze, or waking sound!
In fiery slumber glares the world around;
'Tis o'er from yonder cloven vault of heaven,
Throned on a car by living thunder driven,
Array'd in glory, see, th' Eternal come!
And, while the Universe is still and dumb,
And hell o'ershadow'd with terrific gloom,
To immortal myriads deal the judgment doom!
Wing'd on the wind, and warbling hymns of love,
Behold the blessed soar to realms above:
The cursed, with hell uncovered to their eye;
Shriek-shriek, and vanish in a whirlwind cry!
Creation shudders with sublime dismay,
And in a blazing tempest whirls away!

J. M.

THE BETTER LAND.

"I hear thee speak of the Better Land,
Thou callest its children a happy band;
Mother! Oh where is that radiant shore?
Shall we not seek it, and weep no more?
Is it where the flower of the orange blows,

And the fire-flies glance through the myrtle-boughs?"

dow not

"Not there,

there, my child !"

"Is it where the feathery palm-trees rise,

And the date grows ripe under sunny skies?
Is of glittering seas,

Or 'midst the green islands

Where fragrant forests perfume the breeze,

And strange, bright birds, on their starry wings,

Bear the rich hues of all glorious things?"

Not there, not there, my child!"

"Is it far away, in some region old,

Where the rivers wander o'er sands of gold?

Where the burning rays of the ruby shine,
And the diamond lights up the secret mine,
And the pearl gleams forth from the coral strand ?-
Is it there, sweet mother, that better land?"

"Not there, not there, my child!

"Eye hath not seen it, my gentle boy!
Ear hath not heard its deep songs of joy ;
Dreams cannot picture a world so fair-
Sorrow and death may not enter there;
Time doth not breathe on its fadeless bloom,
For beyond the clouds, and beyond the tomb,

-It is there, it is there, my child!"

HEMANS.