press themselves in English, to them a foreign tongue. Among those who are utterly unacquainted with any language but their own; eyes will flash and cheeks flush while some peasant repeats some soul-stirring verses composed by himself or his ancestors; and proud indeed is the father who can boast a son well versed in the art of poesy. This have I not witnessed, but I have witnessed the delight and enthusiasm with which the uncultivated minds of peasants have appreciated the sublime beauty and figurative language of Scripture, when offered in the teanga vin milish na h' Eirion, (sweet honied language of Erin.)

THE unsanctified wish to be freed from the punishment of sin; the believer from its bondage and pollution.-Robert Hall,

THE HOUSEHOLD CHAIN BROKEN.

A TRUE NARRATIVE.

BESIDE a flowing river,

Where waving beeches stand, And silver aspens quiver,

We dwelt, a happy band.
Twelve buds and blossoms growing
Around one happy hearth;
Youth, health, and love bestowing
Each blessing of the earth.

We wandered through each upland scene,
And roamed the forest glade;
Or floated down the silent stream,
Beneath the trembling shade.

And thus the happy years flew by,
Without a care, without a sigh.

Save his, who crossed the distant seas,
No vacant place was seen,

No voice's music had been hushed,

Life glided like a dream.

But three or four of all the band

Sought an eternal home;

The rest forgot the better land,

Nor thought that death might come.

Till He who doeth all things well
The bandage struck from sight,
And breaking up the household chain,
Let in eternal light.

The white-robed minister of death
Received the rending word;
And by the loveliest and the best,
His warning voice was heard,

66

Maiden, thy form of clay,

Shall melt like the mists away,
Till on thee burst the ray,
Beaming from endless day."
The shaft had sped, her roses fled,
Her buoyant step grew slow,

But living faith can smile on death,
66 I go, I go !

She cried,

My flesh and heart are failing fast,

Soon shall their links dissever;

But God my strength and portion is,

He shall be mine for ever.

O happy maiden, thou hast given

Thy summer-time of glee,

66 Thy heart's first fragrance unto heaven," Death had no sting for thee!

Thus day by day, with a slow decay,
Melted her bonds like mists away,

Till her glad spirit rejoicing stood

In the bright home of her "Saviour God :”
Eyes long in mental night,
Followed her upward flight,
And as she entered light,
On them fell radiance bright.

*Psalm lxxiii. 26.

Then years flew by, as the lightnings fly,
Again the summons of death came nigh.

'Twas heard by a child with sunny hair,
And eyes of violet blue;

She ceased her brother's sports to share,
And pale and pensive grew.

At midnight rose her wailing cry,
With showers of tears of agony,
“Oh, what if I to-night should die,
"I have not heaven in view!"
She wept for sin; at length she found
The sinner's ransom paid,

And with a strong though child-like faith,
Her sins on Jesus laid.

And ere the messenger came nigh,

To her such faith was given; "I fear not now," she said, "to die,

For Jesus is in heaven."

Then came the bright one down,

Bore her to her starry crown;

Oh, what glad seraph-chants were strewn
Round the bright pathway to her Saviour's throne.

A year flew by, like a breeze's sigh,
Again the summons of death came nigh.

It came to one in manhood's prime,
In youth and health abounding
Intellect beaming on his brow,
Kindness his steps surrounding;
The stronger rushed upon the strong;
The seventh morning came,

His feet had entered Jordan's stream,

Its chill was on his frame;

But till it froze his rich deep voice,
For mercy still he prayed;
"O Christ, have mercy upon me,"
Were the last words he said.
Swiftly thy wing swept on, O Death,
To burst our links of love;

But we trust it bore our wrested one
To a better home above.

And month by month, and year by year
The Patriarch of the band

His white hairs bent o'er the Holy Book
To read of that better land.
"I feel the gathering snows of age
And they tell me of the grave;
In myself but sin, I trust in Christ,
And He alone can save."

Thus years went by, with a warning cry
Suddenly death again came nigh.

The Patriarch bowed on the Sabbath-day
In the holy house of prayer;

At night he sank to his usual rest,

At dawn came the summons there. His children stood by his painless couch, He knew them but could not speak ; He pressed their hands, and he looked farewell, Then turned the Book to seek,

He placed it in their willing hands

They read him that Word of God;