Go there with all the birds,-and seek

A happier clime, with livelier flight;
Kiss, with the sun, the evening's cheek;
And leave me lonely with the night.
I'll gaze upon the cold north light,
And mark where all its glories shone-
See that it all is fair and bright,
Feel that it all is cold and gone!

Seasons of Prayer.-HENRY WARE, JR.

To prayer, to prayer;-for the morning breaks,
And earth in her Maker's smile awakes.
His light is on all below and above,
The light of gladness, and life, and love.
O, then, on the breath of this early air,
Send upward the incense of grateful prayer.

To prayer;-for the glorious sun is gone,
And the gathering darkness of night comes on.
Like a curtain from God's kind hand it flows,
To shade the couch where his children repose.
Then kneel, while the watching stars are bright,
And give your last thoughts to the Guardian of night.

To prayer;-for the day that God has blessed
Comes tranquilly on with its welcome rest.
It speaks of creation's early bloom;
It speaks of the Prince who burst the tomb.
Then summon the spirit's exalted powers,
And devote to Heaven the hallowed hours.

There are smiles and tears in the mother's eyes,
For her new-born infant beside her lies.

O, hour of bliss! when the heart o'erflows

With rapture a mother only knows.

Let it gush forth in words of fervent prayer;
Let it swell up to heaven for her precious care.

There are smiles and tears in that gathering band,
Where the heart is pledged with the trembling hand.
What trying thoughts in her bosom swell,
As the bride bids parents and home farewell!

Kneel down by the side of the tearful fair,
And strengthen the perilous hour with prayer.

Kneel down by the dying sinner's side,
And pray for his soul through him who died.
Large drops of anguish are thick on his brow-
O, what is earth and its pleasures now!
And what shall assuage his dark despair,
But the penitent cry of humble prayer?

Kneel down at the couch of departing faith,
And hear the last words the believer saith.
He has bidden adieu to his earthly friends;
There is peace in his eye that upwards bends;
There is peace in his calm, confiding air;
For his last thoughts are God's, his last words prayer.

The voice of prayer at the sable bier!

A voice to sustain, to soothe, and to cheer.
It commends the spirit to God who gave;

It lifts the thoughts from the cold, dark grave;
It points to the glory where he shall reign,
Who whispered, "Thy brother shall rise again."

The voice of prayer in the world of bliss!
But gladder, purer, than rose from this.
The ransomed shout to their glorious King,
Where no sorrow shades the soul as they sing;
But a sinless and joyous song they raise;
And their voice of prayer is eternal praise.

Awake, awake, and gird up thy strength
To join that holy band at length.
To him who unceasing love displays,

Whom the powers of nature unceasingly praise,
To Him thy heart and thy hours be given;
For a life of prayer is the life of heaven.

Effect of the Ocean and its Scenery on the Mind of the Buccaneer when agitated with Remorse for his Crime.RICHARD H. DANA.

WHO's yonder on that long, black ledge,
Which makes so far into the sea?

See! there he sits, and pulls the sedge-
Poor, idle Matthew Lee!

So weak and pale? A year and little more,
And thou didst lord it bravely round this shore!

And on the shingles now he sits,

And rolls the pebbles 'neath his hands;
Now walks the beach; then stops by fits,
And scores the smooth, wet sands;

Then tries each cliff, and cove, and jut, that bounds
The isle; then home from many weary rounds.

They ask him why he wanders so,
From day to day, the uneven strand?-
"I wish, I wish that I might go!

But I would go by land;

And there's no way that I can find-I've tried

All day and night!"-He looked towards sea, and sighed.

It brought the tear to many an eye,
That, once, his eye had made to quail.
"Lee, go with us; our sloop rides nigh;
Come! help us hoist her sail."

He shook." You know the spirit-horse I ride!
He'll let me on the sea with none beside!"

He views the ships that come and go,
Looking so like to living things.
O! 'tis a proud and gallant show

Of bright and broad-spread wings

Flinging a glory round them, as they keep

Their course right onward through the unsounded deep.

And where the far-off sand-bars lift

Their backs in long and narrow line,
The breakers shout, and leap, and shift,
And send the sparkling brine

Into the air; then rush to mimic strife :-
Glad creatures of the sea! How all seems life!-

But not to Lee. He sits alone;
No fellowship nor joy for him.

Borne down by wo, he makes no moan,
Though tears will sometimes dim

That asking eye.-O, how his worn thoughts crave-
Not joy again, but rest within the grave.

The rocks are dripping in the mist
That lies so heavy off the shore.

Scarce seen the running breakers;-list

Their dull and smothered roar !

Lee hearkens to their voice." I hear, I hear
You call. Not yet!-I know my time is near!"

And now the mist seems taking shape,
Forming a dim, gigantic ghost,—
Enormous thing!-There's no escape;
'Tis close upon the coast.

Lee kneels, but cannot pray.-Why mock him so?
The ship has cleared the fog, Lee, see her go!

A sweet, low voice, in starry nights,
Chants to his ear a plaining song.

Its tones come winding up those heights,
Telling of wo and wrong;

And he must listen, till the stars grow dim,

The song that gentle voice doth sing to him.

O, it is sad that aught so mild

Should bind the soul with bands of fear;
That strains to soothe a little child

The man should dread to hear!

But sin hath broke the world's sweet peace-unstrung The harmonious chords to which the angels sung.

In thick, dark nights, he'd take his seat
High up the cliffs, and feel them shake,
As swung the sea with heavy beat
Below-and hear it break

With savage roar, then pause and gather strength.
And, then, come tumbling in its swollen length.

But thou no more shalt haunt the beach,
Nor sit upon the tall cliff's crown,

Nor go the round of all that reach,
Nor feebly sit thee down,

Watching the swaying weeds:—another day,
And thou❜lt have gone far hence that dreadful way.

The third and last Appearance of the Spectre Horse and the
Burning Ship.-RICHARD H. DANA.

TO-NIGHT the charmed number's told.
"Twice have I come for thee," it said.
"Once more, and none shall thee behold.
Come! live one, to the dead!”—

So hears his soul, and fears the coming night;
Yet sick and weary of the soft, calm light.

Again he sits within that room;
All day he leans at that still board;
None to bring comfort to his gloom,
Or speak a friendly word.

Weakened with fear, lone, haunted by remorse,
Poor, shattered wretch, there waits he that pale horse.

Not long he'll wait.-Where now are gone
Peak, citadel, and tower, that stood
Beautiful, while the west sun shone
And bathed them in his flood

Of airy glory?-Sudden darkness fell;
And down they sank, peak, tower, and citadel.

The darkness, like a dome of stone,
Ceils up the heavens.-'Tis hush as death-
All but the ocean's dull, low moan.

How hard Lee draws his breath!

He shudders as he feels the working Power.
Arouse thee, Lee! up; man thee for thine hour!-

'Tis close at hand; for there, once more,
The burning ship. Wide sheets of flame
And shafted fire she showed before;

Twice thus she hither came ;