Will then the merciful One, who stamped our race With his own image, and who gave them sway O’er earth, and the glad dwellers on her face, Now that our flourishing nations far away Are spread, where’er the moist earth drinks the day, Forget the ancient _care_ that taught and nursed His latest offspring? will he quench the ray Infused by his own forming smile at first, And leave a work so fair all blighted and accursed? Oh, no! a thousand cheerful omens give Hope of yet happier days whose dawn is nigh. He who has tamed the elements, shall not live The slave of his own passions; he whose eye Unwinds the eternal dances of the sky, And in the abyss of brightness dares to span The sun’s broad circle, rising yet more high, In God’s magnificent works his will shall scan-- And love and peace shall make their paradise with man. _W. C. Bryant._ Father of earth and heaven, Whose arm upholds creation, To thee we raise the voice of praise, And bend in adoration. We praise the Power that made us, We praise the love that blesses, While every day that rolls away, Thy gracious _care_ confesses. _Henry Ware, Jun._ Faithful servant of the Lord, Sower of the gracious Word, Scattering thy seed abroad,-- Much of it will fall, and sink Where the cattle come to drink, Trodden in the river’s brink; Much of it on bogs unsound, Much on hard and stony ground, Much where thorns and briers abound. In the path of daily life Worldly _cares_, like thorns, are rife, Ever with the word at strife. _Egone._ CHANGE. Because they have no _changes_, therefore they fear not God.--Psalm lv. 19. My son, fear thou the Lord and the king: and meddle not with them that are given to _change_.--Proverbs, xxiv. 21. For I am the Lord, I _change_ not; therefore ye sons of Jacob are not consumed.--Malachi, iii. 6. Behold, I shew you a mystery; We shall not all sleep, but we shall all be _changed_.--I. Corinthians, xv. 51. Emblem of life! see _changeful_ April sail In varying vest along the shadowy skies, Now bidding summer’s stormy zephyrs rise, Anon, recalling winter’s softest gale, And pouring from the cloud her sudden hail; Then, smiling through the tear that dims her eyes, While Iris with her braid the welkin dyes, Promise of sunshine, not so prone to fail. So to us sojourners in life’s low vale, The smiles of fortune flatter to deceive, While still the fates the web of misery weave; So hope exultant spreads her airy sail, And from the present gloom the soul conveys To distant summers, and far happier days. _H. K. White._