re.

They now seem standing on the verge
Of that unfathomed sea,
Just waiting for the final surge
That opes eternity.

When comes that surge, or soon or late,
May they in peace depart;
And meet within the shining gate,
No more to grieve or part.

THE DONATION VISIT.

The following poem was read upon the occasion of a donation visit by
the Head of Christiana congregation to their pastor, Rev. James I.
Vallandigham.

Fair ladies dear, and gentlemen.
I thought not to be here to-day:
But I'm a slave, and therefore, when
My muse commands, I must obey.

I've struggled hard against her power,
And dashed her yoke in scorn away,
And then returned, within an hour,
And meekly bowed and owned her sway.

I know the ground on which I stand
And tremble like an aspen when
I see around, on every hand,
Such learned and such gifted men,

Who really have been to college,
And know the Latin and the Greek;
And are so charged with general knowledge
That it requires no little cheek

In an obscure and modest bard
To meet a galaxy so bright,--
Indeed, I find it rather hard
To face the music here to-night.

Dear friends, we've met, as it is meet
That we should meet at such a time,
Each other and our host to greet,--
Or guest, 'tis all the same in rhyme.

No king nor queen do I revere;
The majesty of God I own.
An honest man, though poor, is peer
To him that sits upon a throne.

I long to see the coming day
When wicked wars and strifes shall cease,
And ignorance and crime give way
Before the march of truth and peace.

That welcome day is drawing near;
I sometimes think I see its dawn;
The trampling of the hosts I hear,
By science, truth and love led on.

I see the murderous cannon fused,
With its death-dealing shot and shell,
For making railway carwheels used,
Or civil railway tracks as well.

And small arms, too, will then be wrought
Into machines for cutting wheat;
While those who used them will be taught
To labor for their bread and meat.

God speed the day,--'tis bound to come,
But not as comes the lightning's stroke;
But slowly, as the acorn dumb
Expands into the giant oak.

Now, reverend sir, I turn to you,
To say what all your flock well know;
You, as a pastor kind and true,
Have led the way we ought to go.

You have rejoiced in all our joys,
And sympathised with us in trouble;
You have baptized our girls and boys--