GENTLE ANNIE.

SOFT as the fall of autumn's leaf,
Or words of tender love,

A gentle maiden paced unseen
Along a silent grove.

Scarce fifteen rosy years had left

Their tintings on her cheek; And all the lily's lovely grace

Adorned her spirit meek.

Her heart was like the drifted snow,

Untarnished by a stain;

Her thoughts were innocent as babes, Her song a loving strain.

No selfish or unsacred wish

E'er warped her gentle life;

The sunshine of benevolence

Destroyed the weeds of strife.

An orphan lamb she fed each morn,

Which taught her how to love;

And the sweet sentiment she shared

Between it and a dove.

She nursed her sire of silver years,
She soothed her mother's care;

And conversed with, and kissed, and blessed
The patriarchal pair.

And thus, like lilies in the shade,

Or daisies in the sun,

So ev'ry blossom of her heart

Was opened, one by one.

OUR LIFE'S A JOY.

OUR life's a joy, and 'tis not just

To brand it as a bitter cup;

Our trials are but balance-dust,

When weighed against our joys. Cheer up!

No life hath been a cheerless way,

With nought but briers thickly sown, Where pois'nous reptiles held the sway, And every hope was left unblown ;

A day of clouds, without a gleam

Of sunlight dashed across its morn; A deep, dark, sadly-murmuring stream, On which no real joy was borne ;

A night without one starry eye;

A winter without any flowers;

A melancholy destiny,

Controlled by none but evil

powers.

Nay! life's a path where virtues grow,
And sacred songsters warble lays;

A fount whence purest pleasures flow;

A night illumed by friendship's rays;

A winter-time, whose cumbrous snows
Press rosy flow'rets from the earth;
A day, whose sunny radiance throws
A halo over every birth;

A destiny which angels guard,

And hedge about from morn till even;

And Life Eternal's the reward

For all who live this life for heaven.

So, cheer up, hearts! it is not just

To call our life a bitter cup;

Our trials are but balance-dust,

When weighed against our joys. Cheer up!

TRUE GREATNESS.

WHAT is Greatness?

True Contrition

Mourning o'er a false ambition;
Making full and frank confession
Of a life of past transgression;
Better plans and acts revolving,
And in strength of soul resolving
Works shall follow on confessing—
Faith, and charity, and blessing.

What is Greatness? Ask the Poet
And the Patriot if they know it;
Ask the men of high aspiring,
Those who know the true inspiring
Genius gives to generous givers,

To the greatest human livers;

Ask them, honest-hearted neighbour,

They will tell you, "FAITH and LABOUR."

What is Greatness? 'Tis abiding

Firm in purpose, true, confiding,