; where's the use of repining:
Droop not by the way, for there's work to be done;
Great ends are attained, not by fretting and whining--
By patience and labour the goal must be won.
Fear not the world's frown: though it spurn the down-falling,
'Twill shrink from a lamb if in lion-skin dresst;
Whate'er be thy trouble--however enthralling--
Press onward, despair not, and hope for the best.

If sorrow o'ertake thee--then be not faint-hearted;
Life ne'er was ordained to be shadeless and bright;
One morn from the other by night-time is parted;
The sun always shines though we see not the light;
Misfortunes in life, like the nettle, prove harmless,
If grappled stout-hearted and fearlessly presst;
Rich sweets, without bitters, soon cloy and grow charmless,
Then press on, despair not, and hope for the best.

GONE BEFORE.

The silent night is coming on,
The day is gone and past;
The willows waving to and fro
Their mournful shadows cast.
I'm thinking o'er the happy years
We wandered side by side,
And Oh, my heart is filled with tears,
I've lost my darling bride.
Softly sighs the evening breeze,
And soothes my bosom sore,
While angel voices seem to sing:
"Not lost, but gone before."

I think of her whose gentle voice
My drooping spirit cheered;
In fancy see her eyes grow bright,
When prosp'rous days appeared.
And as--like vessels that from storms
To quiet havens glide--
We neared the haven of our hopes,
I lost my darling bride.
Softly sighs the evening breeze,
And soothes my bosom sore,
While angel voices seem to sing:
"Not lost, but gone before."

HENRY BATH:

DIED OCTOBER THE 14TH, 1864.

"For the charitable heart is as a flowing river: it moveth meekly and
in silence, and scattereth abroad its blessings to beautify the world."

Ever the silent river flows
Adown the mead in speechless eloquence,
More telling than the language of the tongue;
Its heart reflecting Heaven's own radiance
In unmarred beauty as it glides along.

Ever the silent river flows:
And in its depths, of untold wealth the source,
What sleeping myst'ries, hidden and serene,
Lie in their latent, undevelopt force;
Yet on it moves as though it ne'er had been.

Ever the silent river flows:
No shadowy nook escapes its placid glance;
Tow'rds cavern dark wit