How have we used this fleeting year?
Have we grown wiser? O, I fear,
And tremble to reflect,
How sadly it has gone to loss,
How I have shunn'd my daily cross,
Some idol to erect.

To gain some trifling, selfish end,
It may be I have wronged a friend,
And turned his love to hate;
How many idle words I've said;
How many broken vows I've made;
How shunn'd the narrow gate!

O Lord! forgive our wanderings wide,
Our oft departures from thy side,
And keep us in thy fold;
Be thou our Shepherd and our all;
Protect these lambs, lest any fall,
And perish in the cold.

On this our Anniversary,
Help us to put our trust in Thee,
And lean upon Thy arm;
Direct us through the coming year;
Protect us, for the wolf is near,
And shield us from all harm.

Our Superintendent superintend;
On him Thy special blessings send,
And guide him in the way;
Enrich our Treasurer with Thy grace,
So that he may adorn the place,
He fills so well to-day.

Write on our Secretary's heart
Thy perfect law; and O, impart,
To our Librarian dear,
The volume of thy perfect love
Which cometh only from above,
And casteth out all fear.

In pastures green, O lead us still!
And help us all to do thy will,
And all our wants supply;
Help us in every grace to grow,
And when we quit thy fold below,
Receive us all on high.

Then, by life's river broad and bright,
Our blissful day will have no night;
On that immortal plain
May all the Jackson scholars meet,
And all their loving teachers greet,
And never part again.

THE INTELLECTUAL TELEGRAPH.

ADDRESSED TO MISS C. CASHO.

Dear friend! O, how my blood warms at that word,
And thrills and courses through my every vein;
My inmost soul, with deep emotion stirr'd--
Friend! Friend! repeats it o'er and o'er again.

I'll make a song of that sweet word, and sing
It oft, to cheer me in my lonely hours,
Till list'ning hills, and dells, and woodlands ring,
And echo answers, Friend! with all her powers.

'Tis truly strange, and strangely true; I doubt
If any can explain, though all have seen,
How kindred spirits find each other out,
Though deserts vast or oceans lie between.

Some golden sympathetic cords unseen,
Unite their souls as if with bands of steel,
So finely strung, so sensitively keen,
The slightest touch all in the circle feel.

Their pulses distance electricity,
And leave the struggling solar r