And as a soldier of the Cross he sought not earth's

renown,

But gained a richer diadem than monarch's jewelled

crown.

He died not where home's quiet scenes spread tranquil peace around,

No sister's gentle form was seen upon that blood-stained ground.

He fell amidst the battle's din,-the victory dearly

won,

And angels from their shining ranks hailed from above, "Well done!"

For they unseen by mortal eye kept holy vigil there, And chariots of heavenly fire stood waiting in the air. 'Midst tears from many a manly eye his spirit broke earth's chains,

And soared amid the glittering throng to heaven's eternal plains;

He entered at the golden gates, and loud the music rang, And angels welcomed him with joy, and sweet the seraphs sang.

Those cheering words fell on his ear, "A crown is thy reward,

Welcome, thou faithful servant, to the mansions of thy Lord."

And ye who now deplore his loss, his face again shall see, When frail corruption has put on bright immortality; And ye shall listen to his voice, far sweeter than of yore, The first to greet ye as ye land upon fair Canaan's shore.

And then the soldiers of the Cross shall wave their palms with joy,

And shouts of victory over death eternity employ. Those who beneath its banner fought, around the throne shall meet,

And lay the trophies of their spoils at the Redeemer's feet.

E. W. HUDDLESTON.

WE have much pleasure in introducing a few of the compositions of this young writer. Many of the following effusions exhibit great promise, and we hope to be favoured in future volumes with further contributions from the same pen. Mr. Huddleston, like many others, whose contributions have here been printed, is enabled only to devote leisure hours to literature, which he cultivates as an amusement after the completion of his daily duties.

JERUSALEM.

SILENT and desolate the shattered walls, The vine-fringed arches, where the glare of day Ne'er gilds the gloom, save when a suubeam falls, Searching for beauty, finding but decay ;Silent and desolate the winding streets. Where Israel's children once in thousands trod, Perchance a lonely pilgrim treads, and meets No answering echo to his weary plodIs this Jerusalem, the city of our God?

groans,

Ay!-Seated by yon sad memorial stones,
(Sole remnants of her glory and her woe!)
The wailing Jews dart up their prayers and
Steeped in a grief a Jew alone can know ;
And other worshippers in scorn pass by
To bend the knee before their Prophet's shrine :-
And through the long dim vistas may the eye
Behold the dreaming Moslemah recline,

Where mournful cypress-leaves a fitting shade entwine.

Around the city rise the hills of yore:

The ancient streams still murmur to the breeze:
The Olive Mount is thinly scattered o'er,

E'en as of old, with venerable trees :
But over all the melancholy change
That time and ruin work, has slowly come:
As in the burial-vale, where'er we range,
Each reverent footstep falls upon a tomb,
So over all Death seems to hang his awful doom,

And, yet, Jerusalem, thou'rt still a queen !

Though dimmed the crown thy brow once proudly

wore:

For where immortal glory once hath been

That spot is consecrate for evermore !
Jehovah's glory now no longer dwells

Where, for long ages, dwelt His earthly throne;
Yet still the lingering, fadeless halo tells

What radiant grandeur once upon thee shone That glows so brightly when its heavenly source has flown.

MAY.

THE fragrant perfume of the dewy morn,
The genial influence of the noontide ray,
The various beauties of each lengthening day,
The minstrel birds which herald in the dawn,
The gentle grandeur of each starry night,
Proclaim the coming of the glorious May.
Welcome, sweet Queen of Spring! a fair array
Of trembling dewdrops gilds thy brow with light.
Meet emblem, in thy radiant loveliness,

Of that bright season in our earthly life,
Where every trifling circumstance is rife
With the pure bliss of youthful happiness:
Meet emblem, too, of that blest May above,
Where endless Spring abounds with fadeless love!

DECEMBER.

WELCOME, thou bleak December! though thy face
Is pitiless and grim, and thy stern hand
Hast made so drear and desolate the land,
Yet I thy solemn march still love to trace;

For while the piercing north winds wildly roar
Among the leafless monarchs of the grove,—
O'er which the icy frost has lightly wove
A pearly network, silvery and hoar,-
And while the spotless snow-flakes softly fall
In ghastly whiteness on the dismal plain,—
It seems as though thy dark and gloomy reign
Cast over all the earth a funeral pall :
For all is slumbering, and the dying year
Unto its final dissolution fast draws near.

SWEETS TO THE SWEET.

A SNOWY, stainless brow, which keepeth
The angel Innocence enshrined:

A pure and guileless heart, which sleepeth
And waketh unconfined

By the stern fetters after-years shall twine,
Bind on that angel-brow a lily-blossom,-

Sweets to the sweet!

A soul-reflecting brow, which telleth
The depths of blessed wisdom learned:
A heart within whose centre dwelleth

Love cherished and returned,

Where woman's sympathetic instincts burn,
Bind on that noble brow an orange-blossom,——

Sweets to the sweet!

An aged brow, time-seamed with wrinkles,
Shaded and sunlit, sere and hoar:

A heart whose music-fount still tinkles

The happiness of yore,

Which bears the joys and sorrows of fourscore,

Bind on that furrowed brow a violet-blossom,

Sweets to the sweet!